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3. HANDS OF FIRE
Thunderbold had never seen his daughter this disturbed
He'd never seen anyone this disturbed. He knew Freegirl pondered the future more than most—becoming melancholy by what she saw —but he'd never seen her have an emotional outburst.
Children of the Glimpse seldom had such trouble as to create an explosion. To visualize an emotional eruption in another was horrifying. They were happy people, as higher powers were in command. Even when someone was injured, they did not have a panicked reaction. All things were accepted with a light heart.
When threats occurred, the people of Photopia Contemplated the reserving of energy. If the imminent threat was dangerous weather, the humans motivated to protect. Or simply, relocate. The Children of the Glimpse took stressful times and turned them into opportunities for learning something new. They never complained —they just took care, for they believed obstacles are opportunities in disguise.
Freegirl’s surroundings were utopian, yet she remained agitated. Her perceptions made no sense—no one should be having nightmares.
Apocalyptic catastrophes don't happen to perfect worlds.
Thunderbold was feeling sad, as he walked to the crafts chamber where his daughter had been working on her clay horse. He picked up the crushed figure and held it to his heart. What is happening here, he thought. Why this distress and destruction?
With a sigh, he decided to give his soul serenity. To take his mind off Freegirl, he strolled into his private sanctuary—a golden room, his place of ease—and sitting in his plush, cotton chair he Contemplated.
He closesd his eyes and breathed in the air, slowly, and peacefully. Soon, he was relaxing in the Dreamscape.
His hands were on fire! The horrible burning smelled awful. He screamed uselessly, for he could not awaken from his Dream, and he could not stop the burning.
When he finally realized the burning was real, his eyes opened. He immediately ran to the ivory water-basin, and dunked his hands in the cool water flowing through the mountain, filling the tiny pool.
His wife, Balancea, hurried to his golden sanctuary, to see what had caused such an uncommon sound to come from her husband.
Baffled and wide-eyed, Thunderbold stood at the ivory bowl, his hands in the soothing water, shaking his head.
“Have you been playing with fire again?” asked Balancea. This was not meant to be comical, for Thunderbold was always burning himself—though never this seriously.
He enjoyed lighting things ablaze with the pure concentration of his mind. Sometimes, he would use the warmth of his hands to touch a piece of wood and get the cooking fires started. He had just recently learned how to do this, and the reality of having that much power always pleased him.
However, this time he was truly frightened, for he had no intention of bringing forth flames. He’d wanted to calm himself and think on what to do about Freegirl, who was upstairs in her cave, a million miles away.
“Balancea.” He looked worn. She went to him, wearing a softly wrinkled forehead, concern oozing from her presence. Standing behind him, she put her hands upon his shoulders.
“It’s fine…” she consoled. “You’ll heal…”
“No!” He was agitated, with glaring signs of irritability. Balancea gently backed out of his space. “Something is very unstable here. The balance is teetering, and I don’t know why.” He looked down at his hands, which were still in the pool of water. “These burns are beastly, and I wasn’t even calling flames. Ohhh…” he moaned. “They hurt…”
“Thunderbold, what is it?” Her face became very serious. “Don’t tell me now you can’t heal.”
“I don’t knooow.” He sounded odd— exasperated. “They’re not responding. I wasn’t calling Fire.” He shook his head back and forth. “I was… sitting… Contemplating... quietly. A bunch of jagged light beams came to me, and then I saw this huge pair of hands full of fire…coming at me. I guess I got apprehensive and lost my Focus. The next thing I saw, my hands were in flames.”
He stopped to breathe deeply. “And Freegirl…” He closed his eyes at the thought of his daughter. “Freegirl is losing Calm. Something bizarre is happening, and it’s affecting her and me.”
Balancea’s husband was making her uneasy. She watched him with alarm. . “I will make an aloe vera wrap for your hands. You need to rest and relax your mind. Your energy is drained and your Healing is impaired, as hers was. It will be fine, my love.” She nodded to the ivory basin and added, “Keep them in the water until I get back.” Then she scooted his oversized, plush chair to him, kissed him on top of his head, and left.
First, her unusual and intense daughter. Then the nightmare haunting her only child. Then the strange girl’s ankle not healing.
Now her husband, slightly distraught, trying to relax, and burning himself instead.
And now he wasn’t healing.
Balancea had always had a gentle and simple life. Her husband wanted to become an Image, and since the higher powers did not interest her, she chose to be devoted to his practice and discipline. Freegirl was just like him, which seemed wonderful when she was young—a little daughter curious about everything, she was willing to work hard and focus on her practice.
But now Balancea was starting to wonder. What force was being pushed into her perfect world?
She walked to the cave of the Medicine Worker’s for help. Lean-legged and taking long strides, Freegirl’s mother climbed the black onyx staircase above the first balcony. Standing on the outside of the mountain, in the fresh light, she climbed to the top level, of the shimmering golden caves.
Thunderbold’s mate reached the screen in front of the golden cave, where the Medicine Worker, Izgosh, lived. While the two walked back to her husband’s sanctuary, they pondered the symbolism of the Hands.
The Hands of Fire.
It was a spiritual attack during a quiet time, and they understood nothing.
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