Anathema (Anathema #1)

by Nick Roberts

“I just want to say how blessed we are. I know we’ve had bad times before, but that’s in the past. This is a house of love and trust. We don’t yell at each other. We don’t fight. We don’t lie. This is a safe place. This is our home,” she said as she looked back and forth between the two of them.

“I just wanted to show a scope of human experience. A journey, I guess,” Scottie said. He pointed to the faces in the dark quadrant of the painting. “These people are in the darkness. They see no light. They have no hope, and they can’t stand it. Their very existence is anathema to them. So, what happens is they change. They experience a metamorphosis,” he said pointing to the faces in the middle of the painting. “They have escaped despair but are still just as close to the darkness as they are to the light. They can be influenced either way by their surroundings. So, then what happens is they have a choice to continue toward the light or recede back into the abyss,” he said. Bryan looked closely and noticed that not all of the faces were moving toward the lighter colors; some were being turned back to the dark half. Scottie continued, “Once they surrender to either side, then they continue their journey until they’ve either reached damnation, or nirvana.” He pointed to the faces of joy and harmony in the top right. “That’s where I see you guys. I feel like I’m somewhere in the middle and want to get to where you all are. You guys are my heroes.”

Growing up as an African American in southeastern West Virginia had exposed Dave to both the dark side of Appalachian culture, and the unbelievably beautiful side of small-town values.

“What is it with you always having no tolerance for anything? You couldn’t drink more than two beers without getting shitfaced, you could never finish a joint, and now you’re telling me that you can’t even handle caffeine? What kind of tough guy are you, anyway?” ​“I was too busy getting laid to worry about keeping up with you drunks,” Dave retorted. “Every beer you drank equals two girls that I got.”

“I don’t have much time,” Ellie struggled to say, “so I need you to…listen carefully.” Derrick nodded his head. “I love you…your daddy loves you, but…this world is full of bad, scary things…and…sometimes, you might not see…any light. That just means it’s your turn…to be the light.”

“He was our neighborhood boogeyman growing up,” Tori confided. “The tragedy with his family happened in the neighborhood on the other side of the river from where I grew up. We heard rumors that Derrick Stockton went crazy and started seeing imaginary friends and then killed his entire family the night the town flooded. My older brother used to say, ‘If you don’t start actin’ right, Derrick Stockton will crawl through your closet in the middle of the night’.”

“There’s nothing you can change about what happened to you. I’m sorry to say it, but it’s true. You have no power over the past or any mistakes you’ve made along the way. What’s even more troubling is that you can’t completely control what happens in the present, either. If the world decides to be nasty, it’ll be nasty. You’ve been through a lot—more than most, but less than some. Good and bad things happen every day, but here’s the truth: you can’t control what happens in the world, Derrick…you can only control how you will respond to it.”