Author's note: The House of the Watchers is a story about 9-11 that came to me out of nowhere. I dedicate it with love to all those who are across the sea, to all those who have lost someone dear to them. And to my best friend who may soon be joining those brave souls , and who I will pray every day not to lose.
I wiped down the bar and watched Jim’s departing back as he left for his waiting cab. Another assignment safely completed, Jim would suffer no more than a headache and little Scarlet would wake up tomorrow morning never knowing she had been in any danger. The bar was empty and the only light came from the small oil lamps burning on the table. I slipped the lock on the door, extinguished the lights and drew the lace curtains to announce that I had closed for the night, and checked to make sure everything was in order for the regular bartender when he returned in the morning. I made my way to the back room, removed my black and white bartender’s uniform and slipped back into by street clothes before going out the back door and making my way to the beach that lay a few blocks away.
***********
The sky turned pink with the glow of sunset and the world seemed to soften a little around the edges. I sat there, looking out at the water sparkling as though so many multi-coloured gems studded is crystalline surface.
I had always enjoyed sunset, it was when the earth seemed to tuck in its inhabitants like so many tired children who had had too long a day and needed a gentle reminder of how lucky they were. And yet, so few mortals stopped to appreciated it.
The sky gradually grew dark, and I unfurled my wings to take to the air. They would be expecting me back shortly, and I had to report the completion of my assignment for the day. As I flew steadily upwards the dark blue of night lightened to the dim blue of the endless twilight that exists in space, and the Bridge came into view. Despite tit’s name the bridge, or the Path as some called it, was really neither…it was a broad river of stats, a small nebula actually, yet scientific standards, which had long been ignored by modern science as insignificant. Of course that was partly because there was no reason to allow it to be discovered for what it was. I approached it, hovered for a few minutes arranging my thoughts, and crossed over to the House of the Watchers.
If the sunset hinted at peace, what lay behind the Bridge radiated the reality in all its glory. For centuries, millennia even, the mortal realm had attempted to describe the House, and throughout time it had borne many names: Paradise, Hades, the Afterlife, and of course, Heaven. Nothing came close to describing the reality however. Human descriptions, I had noticed, tended to flair on the side of the dramatic, describing heaven awe inspiring and trailing clouds of glory. Well, it was awe-inspiring, but not in the way that so many mortals believer. In fact, most mortals were shocked when they Returned here; they would gaze around the gently rolling hills coated with eternal green and wonder where the clouds were.
“Isn’t Heaven supposed to be in the Clouds?” They would ask, and we would reply, “Yes, and it is…but why make everything out of clouds when you don’t have to?”. Then we would sit back and wait patiently for them to Remember.
The gentle breeze that flowed through the air ruffled my wings and brought the scent of peach blossoms from the nearby forest to my nose. Yes the House was awe-inspiring, but it was not it’s picturesque appearance or graceful Grecian architecture that created that awe, it was the atmosphere of peace and acceptance that came over you when you entered. Every Soul was appreciated for what they were here…and despite mortal mythology; all mortals came here, or rather Returned here. Hell was not precisely a figment of the human imagination, but it came close. For while Hell did exist, it existed on the same plane, and was indeed ruled by the same masters, as the rest of the House and it was not the tangible horror of fire and brimstone that the earthly religious fanatics took so much delight in torturing the populace with.
It was worse.
The Hell that existed in the minds of the mortal races was tangible, a situation that, while horrid, could be adapted to, a physical torture that they could rap their minds around living with for the rest of eternity, where they could revel in their very martyrdom. The reality was not physical; instead it was prison of the spirit. The High One did not send many there, much fewer than the so called priest threatened with the fate, but those who found themselves in the Other, as it was called, lived with their mistakes -- and to deserve such punishment the mistakes were severe – over and over again. They were not separated from the other inhabitants of the House, at least not by force, but the often separated themselves by chose. The y could easily wander the same paths and take part in the same activities as their more innocent companions, but they could not see the pleasantness or beauty of those paths and places, their minds eye saw only what their crimes had made – or could have made – of such a world. Murderers could look nowhere without seeing the lat moments of their victims, a ghostly charade that played out even their sleep, they saw the grieving families, the pain they had caused and more importantly the future of the life they had so violently ended. The victims themselves of course, while the avoided their former enemy out of habit for a while, had usually already forgive and already moved on …the perpetrator could no, until he forgave himself, which took a very, very long time. A Soul came to the Other by it’s own follow, a poor choice in choosing how to live one of their many lives…but they still had to pay the price for an experiment gone wrong, and they still had to remember for eternity.
I shuddered; the Other was not something I liked to dwell on. I folded my wings carefully behind my back and walked idly among the fruit trees, listening to the soothing music that drifted from the various pavilions, making my way in the general direction of the main pavilion. They would know I was coming, and there was no need to rush. I passed a small child on my down the paths, and despite myself my heart went out her, even though I knew she was happy, that she retained her youth by choice here and could reborn any time she chose, it still pained me to see life taken from one so young. I looked closer at the little girl and smiled, young yes…in this Cycle she had died young, but she was one of the oldest Souls I had seen. Perhaps she was in need of a break, for lack of a better phrase. Still, I had no sympathy for the one who ad sent her here. I patted the girl on the head and continued down the pathway.
My steps ultimately took me to the main pavilion, a graceful open arched structure that gave the impression of being castle-like without any of the overdone grandeur. This was the main gathering point for the Divinities …for it was not only the Souls and Watchers who inhabited the House. I parted one of the flowering curtains of vines that acted as the only doors to the building and waited patiently for the Divine Ones to notice my presence. Despite their reputation they looked little like Gods, aside from their physical looks they were singularly unimpressive to one who spent a great deal of time with them. They could be impressive when they wished of course, but Newcomers were often nervous enough with having to deal with great beings rising out of the clouds…so they often looked like abnormally attractive humans, and the often bickered as well as humans too. In fact, that was what they were doing when I arrived.
“I tell you!” Said Temperance, and auburn haired beauty that looked to be about twenty but was of course much, much older, said from her place in the far corner, “Another was is not the solution! Why hurt more than we have to! The people fear us enough already, that not what we want is it?”
“Temperance is right.” Bell said from here chair near me, “Why destroy? We are supposed to build.”
“Because mortals are so often beyond our control/”A resonating male voice came from the corner. Its speaker was a young looking man with dark hair and a slight yet muscular build. Andrew’s vice was touched with sadness, “And they start things that we cannot possibly help them with. And ye, they do so much of it in our names.”
I resisted my impulse to embrace the God. Like the others he had many names, Death, The Grim Reaper, and sometimes Rebirth…but he did not fit any of those descriptions. He never sent people to their deaths, he was a kind and gentler man who simply guided Souls in the Return and explained where they were upon arrival. They only need ed his assistance for the first few hours, until memory set in…True memory…and they recalled their past lives and the House and met with past friends. and sometimes parents. In fact the first thing a Returning Soul usually did upon gaining remembrance was embrace Andrew and whisper something along the lines of “It’s alright I’m glad to be back.”
I hated to admit that he was right. Most religious leaders had decided that they could do anything in the name of the Gods…even punish others for believing in those same Gods under a different name. I looked around the pavilion, names…so much of the mortal realm put so much emphasis on names in their beliefs. It was an ongoing joke in the House really, and a Soul before rebirth would often comment about which lie there were going to believe in this time. Each of the occupants of the room had at least a dozen names, one for every religion that had ever existed, so many that I did not even keep track. But no matter how many names they had there were only a few of the” Temperance –who was best classified as the Goddess of Balance --, Andrew, Bella – the Goddess of Love and Beauty both inner and outer --, Naturea – The nature Goddess -- , Jonathan – The God of Celebration -- , and the High One. The High One had the most names of all, and yet he was none of them, and, although he appeared to be an old man with gentle eyes, he was neither gender. While the Divine Ones could be described somewhat by there titles, the truth is that they worked as a unit, with each one dependent on the other, and no one filling a duty alone.
Snapping out of my reverie and, seeing that they were not going to notice me alone, I gently cleared my throat.
“ You wished to see me?” I said politely as their heads turned to me.
The High One smiled, “Yes Charity.” He said warmly, “ I trust all went well?”
I nodded, “I suppose I must be a good barmaid,” I replied, “Jim decided it was better for him to take a cab home, and the little girl arrived home safely. I’m sure that if you check you’ll find her fast asleep, perhaps we should send her a pleasant dream.”
“Perhaps I shall.” Bella said, “I have always liked sending dreams.”
“Are you sure you can send one that’s suitable for a child rather than a single young man?” Temperance laughed gaily. Bella glared at her.
“Charity.” The High One said, cutting off the laughter with a gentle hand gesture. The others suddenly looked solemn, “We did not call you here just for a report.”
I suddenly dread clutching at my stomach. Not for my sake, the High One had nothing against his Watchers, even when we did not perform as expected. No I felt dread for the world. The High One used a very specific tone when something horrible was going to happen…and he wore that tone like a mantle now.
“Yes?” I said cautiously.
“I need you to speak with the rest of the Watchers as soon as possible. Andrew is going to need your help.”
That only added substance to my dread, Andrew only needed the aid of the Watchers when there was to be and Influx of Return, and there had not been one since the end of the Second World War so many years ago.
“Something is going to happen?” I asked, lowering my wings in sadness, “Something we cannot stop? Something you cannot stop?”
“I am afraid so.” The High One replied, grief touching his voice, “And I am afraid not. The one who is going to cause this has planned it for years, and it will through the population of the mortal realm into a downspin that my well last for years. And, to my despair, he is beyond my aid.”
“Will he return as well?” I asked.
“Eventually yes, but his…Workers will Return earlier, as they will end their lives in the event…but they may not be in the Other as long as their instructor. Despite their actions the will believe they were working for good…and they are good Souls, you know there is no other kind…so they may understand more quickly. Their master however, I regret to say that he will be taking punishment for this Cycle as long as number 122 if not 188.”
My jaw dropped at the numbers…Souls had names like any other Being, but when they were in the Other they were referred to by numbers, and the two that had just been named were the two assigned to the poor Souls who had made the worst Rebirth Choices in history. One was the Soul who had chose to take Rebirth as Hitler, that was 122, the other belonged to a Soul that had made a choice that had become so terrifying that the mortal realm still trembled, the Soul who had made the Cycle as a mystery killer known as Jack the Ripper.
“Is it truly that bad?” I gasped,
Temperance was the one who nodded, tears coming to her large eyes…war was an invention of humans that caused her immense pain, since her entire purpose in life was to avoid violence. “I fear we will not have seen an Influx like this since the end of the War, and the sad thing is it will not be the event itself that takes so many, it will be the emotions in the aftermath.”
I nodded and swallowed, “How long?” I asked quietly.
“One week.” The High One said sadly, “Not much time…until now we tried to prevent it, but everything we have tried has failed…and now it is too late. There is a point were events have their own momentum, and ever we cannot change their course.”
I nodded, “I shall gather the others.”
As I backed out of the pavilion respectfully, I looked at the calendar on the wall. A week the High One had said, and today was September 4.
************
I gathered the other Watchers that night, and odd collection of short, tall, pretty and no-so pretty winged Beings…as various as the Souls we served. As I stood before the group, which was gathered in one of the minor pavilions, every face I saw looked grave. The Watchers got along very well, but we usually worked separately, and only came together on the occasions when we socialised. Thus it was that every being in front of me knew that this was not such an idle gathering.
I saw no reason not be direct, and so I told them exactly what the High One had told me. “You all know what to do.” I said sadly when I had finished, “I wish as much as any of you that this wasn’t happening…but of the High One can’t stop it, then it cannot be stopped. But remember, the Souls will be making the Return sooner than they had intended when they were Born, they will take longer to Remember, we will have to be gentle with the…and Andrew cannot handle it all himself.”
There was no need to say that of course, all of m y companions already knew the procedure, we simply did not like having to use it. I fell silent and left the gathering open to the inevitable questions.
“Cannot one of Them go down themselves and stop it?” Corina asked hopefully, that was a question I had been expecting, for it as often asked on the verge of a disaster.
I shook my head, “You know the policy Cor,” I said sadly, “Remember what happened the last time we broke it? Only the Watchers can interfere with a human Cycle, and only in limited amounts. The Souls have to make their own choices, that’s how they learn their lessons.”
Cor nodded. Only once or twice had a God descended. The last time had resulted in such a stretching disaster that the world still had no completely recovered. It was after that that Divine Ones had made a pact never to interfere directly again. It put more strain on the Watchers, but it was much better over all.
“We have a week?” Appleblossom said shyly.
“That’s the estimate.” I replied gravely, “We had better get ready, a week can fly very quickly as I’m sure we all know.”
It was a sad gathering indeed that departed from the Pavilion. And sad we remained, we continued with out other duties carefully and meticulously, but or spare time was spent in meditation, drawing in the calm we would need from the environment around us. The day before the event was due to happen I spent a vigil with my set of Tarot cards in the Garden Pavilion, idly shuffling the deck and letting the individual cards speak to me. My wings felt heavy on my back…and it took me a long time to sleep, as though by not sleeping the night would pass more slowly. At midnight the Watchers gathered again, to employ the only line of aid we had that would make any difference. We could not aid many, but there were a few that we knew had to live, special cases we had been watching over since their Rebirth. There were only two or three of them, but we could possibly save more than that…if we hurried. We lined up sadly at the entrance to the Bridge, felt the High One give us his blessing, and lend the necessary speed to our wings and them one by one, we plunged across the Bridge and downwards towards earth.
The rushing wind felt cool against my face, and pulled at my wings as I pierced towards Earth like and arrow launched from a bow, I flew directly over Europe and out over the ocean until the huge landmass of North America began flowing underneath me. I went directly to the United States, centring in carefully on Manhattan and Greater New York. From house to house I dashed, randomly it seemed, instinctively knowing which area my companions were in and which homes were not necessary to visit. In our wake people woke up in the middle of the night, stating to bleary eyes husbands that they would not be going into work the next day. Everyone who uttered those words was a life saved. As I exited one of the houses I glanced up at the stars…and wiped a tear from my eye as I took to the sky. Things were out of our hands now, we would be blamed by some, and praised by others…but there as nothing we could do now but watch.
***********
I stood with the others watching the huge pool that stood in the centre of the Gazing Pavilion. We watched silently as the sun rose over the skyline of Manhattan, watched the city come to life. We watched thousands of people get out of cars and walk to work under the shadow of the most beautiful and prominent feature of that skyline, the dominating structure of the World Trade Center, and for a few short moments it seemed that everything was going to be all right after all, that we may have been wrong. But the view remained focused on the great Twin Towers, rippling only slightly with the wavering water…and at 8 o’clock the first jet hit. Next to me Corina screamed, and I felt tears trickling down my cheeks. So this was it, my heart wrenched within me as I thought of the horror that was playing out on people who were innocent. Then, almost on the heels of the first a second jet came, crashing into the other tower with a fire that could have dimmed a volcano. Many of us turned away in tears as the towers that had stood so grandly tumbled to the ground. I fought down the surge of grief and guilt that threatened to overwhelm me, and watched the others force themselves to follow my example. Uttering a prayer for the families left behind, I exited the pavilion and let the others to the Entrance, where the first Returners were already beginning to arrive.
*********
Andrew was already there of course, smiling sadly and speaking gently to one of the young women who knelt sobbing at his feet. The Watchers split at that point, half of us plunged back down to earth to Guide those needed it back and to save those who could possibly be saved. The rest of us remained to aid the in the transition between mortal and ethereal. I dashed tears away from my eyes at the sight of the crowd… and this was only the beginning. Perhaps the same sentence as 188 was not enough after all. I swallowed the though and went to work, taking comfort in each face that lowly gained recognition and threw their arms around the various Watchers. Though it still wrenched my heart to see so many Returning so early, I could not help but laugh at some of the wry comments that came from the newly awakened Souls.
“Well that didn’t work out quite as I expected,” One said ruefully, wiping at her eyes.
“Haven’t had an experience like that since the French Revolution.” Another said, shaking his head sadly.
It was quite some time before the crowd settled down and drifted off to various pavilions to reacquaint themselves with their situation. Some vanished immediately, choosing a different, and hopefully better, Rebirth to accomplish what they had been denied so painfully. Others merely drifted, happy to be back, and yet still sad for those whom they had left behind. That state would not completely leave them for quite sometime time, in fact it would not leave them completely until the Souls that had been their families in this Cycle Returned themselves.
I was exhausted, grief touched with anger washed over me in waves as I made my way away from the Entrance, where Returners still trickled in, more slowly now, but constant –towards the main pavilion. But before I could leave Andrew called me over to his side.
“I’ afraid I’m going to need you for the next four.” He said gently, embracing me sympathetically.
“Four” I said, looking at the dozens of Souls passing over the Entranceway.
Andrew nodded, “Two for each plane.”
My stomach knotted. But inside I knew that these four, with the exception of the one who had commanded them, would be suffering the most once they Remembered. And so I stood my ground and watched the four Souls who had, only moments ago, been the hijackers who flew the jets, and managed to bring a genuine smile to my lips. No Soul was bad, I reminded myself, they just sometimes chose bad Cycles, but they learned something from it, they always learned something. I looked into the eyes of the four men in front of me. They wore an odd expression as they looked around, a combination of contempt and religious ecstasy. I had seen that expression before, it was reserved for fanatics usually, especially those who believed in martyrdom. It faded with Remembrance, but it took longer for those who wore it to Remember. I saw now why Andrew had chosen me to aid him in this, he was a God, but he could only handle so much, and as the unofficial head of the Watchers I was the next in line in aiding with Remembrance. As Andrew and I patiently escorted them to the pavilions, gently explaining where they were and why, and where they would be, I listened carefully to what they were grumbling about. I had heard it all before of course, they talked mostly about heroism, what kind of harems they would have, and various other lies that had been embedded in them by their religion. The enter concept of Martyrdom never failed to amaze me. IT had always baffled me, even before I became a Watcher, why some mortals felt they could gain the esteem of the Divine Ones, not only by dying, but by dying in the most horrendous way possible. True martyrs, such as soldiers who died in the line of battle, I could understand, but not those who purposely took their lives to achieve that goal. Once they gained Remembrance, martyrs like these four were often the ones who wept the most for their deeds in the Cycle, and no Soul was ever a martyr more than once – at least not one like these. I watched carefully for the signs, and sure enough the four soon began rubbing their eyes, and blinking constantly, as if trying to clear their vision of a sight that they knew shouldn’t be there. Essentially of course that was exactly what they were doing. Finally when we were just on the steps of the pavilion, the first broke down and wept, and the others quickly followed.
“What have I done?” The first cried, wringing his hands, “What have I done?”
I was there in an instant, “You chose a poor Cycle, and now you must pay for your deeds within that Cycle, but your suffering need not last forever.”
The words rolled off my tongue easily, I had been forced to say them more than I wished. Eventually the four stopped weeping, and, looking up at me with red-rimmed eyes, said what every Soul who has been condemned to the Other had said before them: “I never thought it would happen to me.”
“No one ever does.” I said sadly, and then I added, out of sympathy, “Know that the High One is displeased with your actions on Earth, but he realises that you what you committed you did not necessarily commit of your own free will. This does not absolve you of your crimes, but he believes you may recover faster than you think.”
The gratitude for that statement was almost palpable, then they retreated to their pavilions, and I, at a nod from Andrew, continued to my meeting with the Divine Ones.
**********
I knelt respectfully at the High One’s feet, my wings trembling.
“We have done what we can my dear.” He said, as if reading my thoughts, his voice was heavy with an indescribable sadness.
“When will it stop?” I asked tearfully, “When will they understand that we do not want them to kill each other? That this is not the answer?”
“Alas,” The High One sighed, “Would that I knew the answer to that question. I used to think I knew, but Mortals have to make their own choices…. and as much as it may pain us, we must allow them to make the wrong ones. And hope, for their sake that they eventually learn the Truth.”
I nodded sadly as the truth of his words rang through me, and, finding myself unable to aid Andrew any more just then, I sought my own bed and lay staring at the ceiling wondering if Mortals would ever learn enough to be wise.
