The Tethering: A Portent of Crows (Excerpt)

The Counterpart

How could he explain the true nature of the world to those who chose to embrace the illusion of what they believed? Frankly, it was impossible until they were drowning in the truth and had no choice but to acknowledge it or go under.

The night before had been an exceedingly difficult evening. For him, it was most obvious as to why. To others, they would simply feel inexplicably irritable, or perhaps more — angry, enraged, depressed, depending on the malleability of the individual. The truth was the energy was turbulent, heavy, and yes, unequivocally negative. For him, it was as tangible as though he were walking through a heavy fog filled with toxic chemicals. It was a night to stay home and allow the cloud of bad energy pass as one would shelter from a sudden thunderstorm, but unfortunately it seemed that she had made another choice.

It had been just three years now that he’d lived in the city. At the onset, it was quite clear that this area would be a place of great spiritual activity both good and bad. And more than a decade before, he’d first been told about her, told that once they met, finally connected, things would become much clearer. And also, regrettably, they would draw attention. That was the nature of power. Of course, given all of this, it was primary that the time be right to make contact, not too early and as well, not too late.

These were the thoughts that plagued him as he waited, albeit not always patiently. And it was clear to him, as clear as anything, that this night, this particularly difficult night was not the right time. However, all of this didn’t change the fact that she was potentially in great peril. And it frustrated him to no end that she would willfully be out on a night like this, and how extraordinarily unprotected she was allowing herself to be.

He’d parked his black sedan on one of the side streets adjacent to Banks. He was familiar with the neighborhood, although he did not frequent it. Being in the area too often, he believed, might just tip his hand before he was ready. At this point, with keeping himself at such a distance, it was difficult to gage how sensitive she was.

The light was waning yet had not entirely disappeared. As he slowly walked along Olympia St. heading to Banks, he was alerted by an odd rustling in the trees he was passing. What he could clearly see in the dimming light was far too many crows filling the somewhat barren branches. He took a sharp breath inward at the sight. It wasn’t precisely that he believed in superstitious omens but rather understood that animals, like people, were affected by shifts in energy. In fact, one might say that they were more attuned than people who cluttered their minds with unimportant incidentals and distraction. Throughout his life, he had spent an inordinate amount of time arduously training and learning to reign in and monitor his mental faculties. With this, he could be more aware and responsive the spiritual shifts in the natural world.

And there was undeniably one taking place this evening, one that had alerted this particular species of bird.

“Black birds, especially crows and ravens, collect when there is a concentration of energy.”

“Energy, what sort of energy?”

His Uncle Silas had furrowed his tawny brow, or rather he had in his recollection. “Negative usually, I’m afraid. I know these birds get a bad rap, but in this instance it is true. They herald a great concentration of negativity, sort of act as a marker and perhaps at times as a buffer.”

Throughout his life, his Uncle Silas had often served as a mentor and guide in these matters. The truth was that he grew up differently than most, although he knew without question that he wasn’t alone in this regard. For him, the unseen was commonplace. What others might disregard as fantasy was accepted as normal as learning to ride a bike, as one’s first steps or words. The shock of it really was that everyone didn’t live the same way, didn’t acknowledge truths that were as basic as drawing breath.

So, as a result, at a relatively young age, at least the age of reasoning, he’d also learned discretion and secrecy. In effect, he would always be two people, one that the world would know and another — his true self that only the like-minded would be aware of.

Copyright © 2020 by Evelyn Klebert