All Living : A Seedvision Saga (9781621473923) by Michael C. Humphrey Read Free Book Online Page A

in his path and rushing downstream with no choices.
    He watched, as if time had slowed to a snail’s pace, as the rock smashed into the side of Abel’s head and split him open like a field melon. Abel’s body seemed to hang suspended, like an overly ripe fruit on the vine, then slumped onto the soil, his life blood spilling out of him.
    For a moment, Kole was too stunned to react. Then he was on his feet, racing down the hill. “No,” he screamed.
    Cain spun around when he heard his brother’s voice. A look of fear flickered across his face, and he fled, racing downstream away from Kole and disappeared into the woods.
    Kole reached Abel’s body and knelt down beside him. He gently cradled his brother’s head in his arms and wept tears of loss. It was a completely foreign feeling that began to crawl from his belly and into his limbs. His arms were numb, and his legs were drained of all strength. He cried and cried, rocking Abel’s body back and forth in his arms, until he had no more tears to cry.

Lester stared at the journal in Al’s hands, Kole’s hands, ah, hell; he didn’t even know what to call him now. His oldest friend. Yeah, by a long shot. He didn’t know what to say; he couldn’t say it even if he did know. His eyes were misty, and he had a lump in his throat that he couldn’t seem to swallow. He fiddled with his napkin. He picked up the miracle cigarette, flicked it, and put it back down without puffing on it. He looked around the room, looked at the scratches in the laminated table surface, looked anywhere but into Al’s eyes, Kole’s eyes.
    “I feel like I’ve just met you. I feel like I should be calling you Kole instead of Al,” said Lester.
    “I like the name Al. Call me Al, and quit fidgeting. I’m still the same guy I was forty-five minutes ago when you sat down.” Al had reached the last page of his first journal and now closed the book.
    Lester noticed something inside the back flap as it shut. “Hey, what’s that?” he asked, pointing at the journal.
    “What’s what?” asked Al.
    “That picture inside the back cover,” said Lester. “It looked like a drawing of a woman.”
    Hesitantly, Al opened the journal up again to the last page. Inside the back cover was a pencil drawing, marvelously detailed. It was actually a masterful rendering of two women; a younger one, standing with her hands clasped in front of her, gazing out from the page with love in her eyes, and at first glance what looked to be a peculiar, older woman. The younger one was beautiful; lightly shaded hair, narrow eyes, high cheekbones. She appeared to be slightly freckled.
    Observing her, Lester could tell she was graceful, elegant, and demure. Her head had a slight downward tilt to it making her appear to tease you with her innocent coyness. Her full figure filled a one-piece, wraparound, knee-length dress to capacity, and her bare feet seemed to find firm footing an inch above the bottom margin.
    Behind her, in silhouette, was the face of an older woman that seemed to be distantly related to the first girl, but her appearance was dramatically different and strikingly unusual. Her age was hard to determine, her eyes were like small pieces of flint in deep sockets. Her forehead fell back sharply from a protruding brow, and her hairline was thin. There was plumpness to the face that bespoke ample fare, but there were also lines and creases that hinted at a life of hard work and suppressed sorrow. Radiating through all its unique character was the depiction of a serene face with a slight smile playing about the lips, a continence reflecting the pleasant contentment of one who must have watched countless sunsets with a lifetime lover.
    Lester grinned at the pictures of the two women. One, a beauty any man would find hard to resist, and the other, a face that any modern-day scientist would validate as clearly belonging to a pre-historic Neanderthal woman.
    “Did you draw this?” Lester asked in an awed voice