As We Know It
Chapter 5Several days had passed since the incident at the studio, and still, Taylor couldn't stop thinking about it. For a day or two, he convinced himself it was nothing more than a dream, but that couldn't carry him far. In the back of his mind, he knew it wasn't, and even simple, mundane things, like using his phone at all, would tug at the corners of his mind just enough to drive him insane.
When the dream logic didn't work, he threw himself into his work - he was grateful for having new music to work on, a tour to plan, because it occupied his mind. When Plan A failed him, Plan B went into effect: complete distraction. But even burying himself in other things couldn't keep his mind from wandering for long.
He needed an answer - hell, he didn't even know that he had the right question.
What he needed was some spiritual advice. He briefly considered talking to a priest, but the thought of explaining the situation made him squirm, so he did the next best thing: he looked up the nearest psychic in the paper and decided he would give it a go. After several minutes of deliberation, he eventually settled on Madame Estelle, Reader of the Stars, and also a part time dog-trainer.
When he walked up to her house, it didn't seem particularly mystical - in fact, it looked just as mundane as he had been afraid of. Perfectly trimmed lawn with squat little gnomes near the flower bed didn't exactly scream spiritual to him.
Taylor hesitated as he reached the door - the name plate had a cute little illustration of a puppy on it and Taylor sighed before knocking lightly on the door.
"Enter," a voice came from the other side of the door, trying its best to sound mysterious. Taylor opened the door, and the scent of incense hit him squarely in the face. Coughing and gagging on the aroma, he looked around at his dimly lit surroundings, looking for the source of the voice. It didn't take him long - a few feet away, he saw a woman standing in the hallway, draped in a flowing, silky psychic-looking ensemble.
"I've been expecting you... Taylor."
"Yeah, we spoke on the phone, I have a 2:30 appointment."
"Oh, um, of course. Have a seat, and drink some tea."
"Sure," Taylor said, taking a seat on the squishy couch. He looked into the teacup, unsure of drinking anything she gave him, and simply held onto it. The closer he got to the furniture, the more he understood the abundance of incense; everything else distinctly smelled like dogs.
"I need to read your leaves," she said, losing her affected mystic tone for a moment. "Now sit."
Obediently, Taylor did. He picked up the cup of tea that was sitting in front of him and sipped at it - with a suddness he wasn't expecting, she grabbed Taylor's hand and examined his palm carefully.
"Hmm... life line, I see."
"What do you see? What is it?"
"I just mean that I see it, now let me work," she said. Taylor sighed and drank his tea as Madame Estelle continued to examine his hand. He felt her hand slowly creeping its way up his arm, and he pulled back, startled. She eased up from his palm and reached instead for an old, worn deck of cards that were sitting on the table in front of her.
"Now, tell me, why did you decide to come to me today?"
She turned over one of the cards to reveal the image of a beautiful, angelic woman.
"A girl?" she asked.
"Not exactly..."
"Ah... I see," she said, a hint of understanding in her voice. Taylor tried, and failed, to resist rolling his eyes at the implication.
"Wait, no, I didn't mean that..." Taylor started to speak, then stopped himself. "Never mind."
She turned over another card, one that showed two men in battle against one another.
"There's going to be conflict," she continued, and turned over the next two cards: Death was the first, then one that simply said Judgment.
"Interesting..."
"Yeah? What are you seeing?" Taylor leaned over to peek at the cards as well, which Madame Estelle quickly pulled out of his view, glaring at him.
"You need to leave this in the hands of a professional, dear. And this... oh dear, this is bringing some bad news, I'm afraid."
"Great. Just what I needed to hear," Taylor muttered.
"You have a great responsibility on your shoulders, and many people are depending on you."
"I already know that," Taylor sighed. "Can't you ask it to give me some advice?"
"The spirits communicate only the information that they believe it pertinent to the situation at hand - true wisdom only comes with time."
Taylor was pretty sure that she was just rehashing phrases from fortune cookies at this point.
"Look, I'd really love to stay and continue with this," he said, and began to stand in his seat. The woman looked alarmed and reached for his arm to pull him back, which Taylor quickly dodged.
"You're in a lot of danger," she continued, not seeming to have even heard Taylor at all.
"I'm sure I'll be in a lot less danger once I'm somewhere sane, but... thanks for your help, I think," Taylor said. He stood up and crept towards the door, Madame Estelle calling after him as he opened the front door again.
"But I haven't even read your tea leaves yet!"
Taylor shut the door behind him, his head spinning, and not with newfound revelation about the spirit world, or his own destiny; he had a headache from the incense. As he jogged down the front steps and started to walk away from the house, he thought quietly to himself. He hadn't really been expecting much of anything from a psychic, but he wasn't sure why he ultimately felt disappointed by the way it turned out. The psychic thing was bullshit, he had already been half sure of that walking into it, but the nagging thought in the back of his mind that still didn't understand what was going on felt unsatisfied. He wasn't sure if his disappointment stemmed from the fact that he got not real information, or that the cryptic message felt a little too real for him. So he continued to walk.
He walked until he found himself standing in front of a large church; it was old, in the way that something can genuinely make you feel insignificant by simply taking in how much life must have filtered through its doors over time. Taylor stood and looked at it, but didn't approach it. An angel wasn't something that he quite knew how to stomach just yet, but maybe there was an answer somewhere. He walked up to the door and paused at its entrance.
Taylor felt distinctly uncomfortable, and was sure to step lightly as he walked through the large, ornate archway of the door. There was something so intimidating about walking into a holy place, like every corner of it was judging him. Some places had metal detectors, this place might as well have had sin detectors.
That, and he hadn't seen the inside of the church since that one incident, and he was pretty sure that he wasn't exactly welcomed back.
The place was, thankfully, empty. He stood in front of the door, momentarily unsure of what to do. After the bizarre encounter with Micah the other day, this seemed like the only thing to do, and still, it felt a little frightening. Taking in a deep breath, he stepped forward into the vacant row of seats and ducked into one of the pews.
He sat, then wondered if he should be kneeling. He was pretty sure he had forgotten how to do this.
"Um, hi," he said to the empty air. "Long time, no talk. How am I supposed to start this, do I need to confess something? Well, I guess I'm sorry about last time, even if it was kind of worth it."
Taylor cleared his throat, beginning to feel a bit silly about the whole thing.
"Anyway, I guess I just need to know what's going on right now. I know I don't usually talk to you unless I need something, and I guess this is really no different, but a sign or something would be nice."
"Ask and you shall receive," a voice came from immediately next to him. Taylor opened one eye and saw that Micah was sitting in the pew behind him, leaning forward, his face only inches from Taylor's.
"Another sign, please," Taylor pleaded. Micah leapt into the seat right beside Taylor, so quickly and gracefully it was practically instantaneous; just his proximity gave Taylor uneasy goose bumps - his body, mind, everything felt electrified near him.
"I've been watching you," Micah said. "And I know you're struggling with everything I told you already-"
"You know, I'm pretty sure there are laws against this kind of thing."
"But I'm really glad that you're finally coming to your senses," Micah said, ignoring Taylor's comment.
"I haven't done anything yet, I just... I guess I didn't give you a particularly great chance to explain yourself. To explain your highly insane, stalkerish, and possibly homicidal behavior. And really, on second thought..."
"Are you going to hear me out on what I need to tell you?"
"I guess if I'm seriously entertaining the idea that you could actually be an angel, I'm willing to hear anything at this point."
"Then, fine, here‘s the truth of the matter: the world is going to end, and you're going to be the one to stop it."
"Ok, I lied. This is insane," Taylor started to stand up to leave; Micah glared at him intensely enough for him to sit back down, resigned.
"Now, don't be coy, Taylor, you wouldn't even be here if you didn't think that there was something seriously wrong. You felt something, right? That's just it - the world is changing, rapidly now that they're approaching."
"Now that who's approaching?"
"War, famine, death, pestilence. They're about to be unleashed into the world," Micah said, matter of factly as though he was simply reading a headline from the days newspaper.
"Hate to break it to you, but all of that is already in the world. You're way too late on that one."
"I don't mean the idea of it, I mean the living, breathing incarnations of these things. I've never dealt with them personally before, but they're a bunch of you-know-whats, if you know what I mean."
"And you're thinking I can help with this how? I mean, come on. Me... against war."
"One person can do amazing things - look at David and Goliath."
Taylor stared at him as though he might morph into an inspirational bumper sticker at any moment. Micah puffed his chest out, and Taylor was sure that if he had wings, they would be fluttering in excitement. He wilted slightly at Taylor's sour expression.
"Look, somewhere out there, there's this big, divine plan, and a very important prophecy. There has to be someone, somebody completely pure, to make the world whole again. I mean, I've botched the wording of it and all that, but the idea is essentially the same."
"Someone pure?" Taylor laughed. "Sorry, you should have called me 9 years ago or something."
"You think this is funny," Micah blushed furiously.
"How could I not think this is funny? Even if it was true, it's not going to work. You've definitely got the wrong guy here, I'm not capable of fighting anyone, let alone the end of the world. At least David had a slingshot, what do I have? I'm a musician, so unless you thinking singing ‘Heal the World' is going to help..."
"Unconventional thinking, I like it," Micah said with a nod.
"Aren't you supposed to be providing guidance or something? Has anyone ever told you what a terrible angel you are?"
"Sometimes," Micah said, honestly. "But if you can stop this before your brother is able to-"
"Whoa, wait a second. Who said anything about my brother?"
"That's... not important," Micah said, his voice rushed and unsure.
"No, what are you implying here?" Taylor said, an eyebrow raised. Micah cleared his throat, clearly trying to stall.
"That prophecy I told you about? It's about two people. Brothers, actually."
"So, are you saying the downfall of humanity is my brother's fault?"
"Something like that." Taylor thought about it for a moment.
"Figures Isaac would start something like this," he said.
"Um... yeah."
Taylor was silent for awhile, his mind overwhelmed with thoughts and ideas. There was logic that was telling him to get out of there, that reminded him that this was crazy, that there was no reason to believe that he was special at all, that told him outright that he wasn't anything different. But there was also a part of him, no matter how small, that wanted to listen, a part that loved the world enough to be unable to let this nagging feeling go. The part of him that actually did believe.
"Well, I guess if I'm in this, it's good to know that there's somebody in this with me. And as for you, we're going to have to get out of here."
"And do what?" Micah asked, one eyebrow hovering dangerously.
"You can't go around looking like that," Taylor said, eyeing Micah's clothing suspiciously. "It's going to draw attention."