out of the darkness

Nearing the end of my shift dispatch called. There was a traffic accident with possible fatalities four miles out of town north on Route 95. Paramedics and the fire department were on their way. A possible rain shower was predicted with temperatures hovering in the mid 30’s. But as the storm approached a surprise cold front dropped the temps and freezing rain began to fall. With hazardous conditions I was glad for studded tires, required on all public service vehicles and optional for anyone from October 1st until April 30. With lights and siren I proceeded cautiously only minutes away.

On a straight stretch that crested on a small rise I could see dark smoke rising and flickers of flame. Approaching, a fearful foreboding and dread seized my mind. In my ten years with the Coeur d’Alene Idaho police department I had witnessed hundreds of wrecks and multiple fatalities, but something was seriously wrong. My wife Kate, four-year-old Sadie, and 16 months old Cade were to return before dark from a visit with her mom in Hayden just north a few miles out of town. Pulling up and putting on spiked rubber stretch on’s over my boots I set flairs and walked to the wreckage in horror. Still in flames, the car was only vaguely recognizable, but the front license plate, still visible, told all. I stood staring in disbelief. The only fragments that were left of three lives that I loved more than life itself where charred skeletal remains.

I staggered dropping to my knees feeling the blast from an atomic aftermath leveling everything in its path. Other officers arrived but it was Christy who walking up looking at the car and then at me who recognized the connection. ‘Oh God! Carson! No’! Then taking me away she led me to a cruiser never leaving my side. My sister who lived close by in Post Falls upon hearing the news made arrangements for her family and immediately came to stay with me at my house. ‘I’m not leaving you alone right now. I’ll give you space and I’ll be here whenever you need me’.

Upon investigation I found out that as Kate approached the crest of the hill an oncoming car crossed the lane out of control hitting her on the right front causing the car’s rear end to spin into the oncoming traffic colliding with an 18-wheeler, rupturing the gas tank and exploding into flames before it spun to a stop. Not a stranger to sudden separations accompanied with death, the police came when I was the age of eleven to give my sister Donna and I the news that our parents had both died in an automobile wreck coming home late that night from a function, Dad apparently falling asleep at the wheel before crashing. And on a stint with the Army in Afghanistan I often witnessed mutilation and carnage that only war can bring. The wails and mournful cries of mothers weeping for their children will haunt me till I die. When the giver of life comes as the grim reaper, none can stay his hand.

As the hours turned into days, days into weeks, weeks into months, and months into a year I made changes wanting to separate myself from the dark emotions that were triggered by the event and others that resulted from it. Realizing the futility of blaming God and questioning ‘why’ this happened I became acutely aware of the weight of the pain and suffering this world was saddled with. Endless questioning leads to morose self-pity and an immobilizing paralysis. My loss and suffering was not unique to the pages of history and annals of time. But my, how my pain and feeling of lost persisted, loneliness threatening to swallow me like a giant black hole.

After receiving the benefits of the fund set up for the survivors of a fatal incident whether of officers or their families and given time off to consider my options, I decided to retire from the police department. Familiar faces with uncomfortable greetings and awkward inquiries, melancholy moments though genuine, I chose to leave to pursue a different path. For some years I had been writing novellas and only months prior to the fatal crash published my first long story. It enjoyed a surprising reception from readers and four and a half and five star reviews poured in from all parts of the world. My publisher wanted more and I decided to follow my new passion.

My house was not only a refuge from the stressors at work, it was also a place of love and laughter. It radiated light and warmth and for a while I was the most blessed man on earth. Without the presence of my wife and children, the house was now only a mausoleum, their voices echoing off the walls and down the halls, but they didn’t live here anymore. I began seeking for a new place with new and favorable energies conducive to my new pursuits. I did not seek to erase or forget my memories. That is not possible. And besides they were the greatest treasure in my life, though often remembered with a oppressive sadness threatening to steal my broken heart away.

Having received settlements after the death of my family and the proceeds from the sale of my house I searched for a place away from the busy bustle of a mid-size tourist town bursting at the seams. Fifty miles North traveling past the place of the collision and saying goodbye to the incident I settled in Sandpoint Idaho. A tourist town to be sure but much smaller with a small town feel. It is nestled between the Selkirk, Bitterroot, and Cabinet Mountains adjacent to Idaho’s largest lake, Lake Pend d’Oreille. It’s deep waters reflected majestic pine covered mountains home to Schweitzer Mountain with world class alpine skiing and an average of 300” of yearly snowfall.

The town itself was quintessential Northwest Americana with logging operations and Paul Bunyon descendants with thick stocking caps, plaid insulated shirts, boots, and suspenders. I purchased an older two-story house completely remodeled while retaining its nostalgic charm. It set on a slight promontory with mountain views and a secluded front yard well established with Spruce, Douglas Fir, and Ponderosa Pines set among Western Cedars. Within walking distance was a farm to market restaurant and an old business conversion into a great little coffee shop.

My transition into my new home was relatively easy. With help I packed up all my personals, tools, and things dear to me from each of my family members. My new home was shown fully furnished with the option to buy as is. Empty houses don’t have the same appeal and as I had no desire to decorate, I bought the home without those hassles and simply moved in. I emersed myself in my writing which requires a lot of reading and research, with the assistance of quietness, space, and little distraction. It was very satisfying and rewarding, but loneliness would creep in to hinder my focus and concentration.

So many, I thought, lead lives of quiet desperation no one caring enough to know how you really feel. For some it’s just the daily grind, possibly stuck in an unhappy marriage, off to work and back again. You stop for gas, run into the grocers, monotonous, repetitive, Me TV reruns. What if all along it was so much more than this, and our earth, a cosmic catastrophe as well as the people on it, are being held in its gravitational grasp simply complying. You do what you always do, live like your parents only with more modern modicums of distraction and servitude. And there’s always fear, the prime motivator in an existence only vaguely aware that beyond the routine of life death and taxes there is a whole different world.

These and other thoughts occupied my mind, as I took breaks to exercise and walk inhaling the beauty of my surroundings. But it wasn’t enough. An early riser I spent time in communion with my creator and then I would take an exhilarating morning stroll to my favorite coffee oasis, ‘The Brewed Awakening’, the perfect blend of coffee, cuisine, and culture. I would take a quiet table, put my feet up, and do a little work on my laptop. Having people around and hearing their chatter had a healing effect on my psyche. Often I would look up endeavoring to make eye contact and with a nod and a smile say ‘good morning’.

One lady in particular caught my attention; very attractive, single, confident, but not overbearing and somewhere around thirty years of age. Several times we had exchanged hellos, but on this notable morning the temperature and the business was brisk and after getting her coffee she looked for a place to sit. Looking in my direction I stood and beckoned her over and asked if she would join me. Walking over she said ‘thank you’. ‘I thought you would never ask’. Slightly embarrassed I said, ‘it’s not that I didn’t want to, I was just hesitant to intrude or assume upon your space. Smiling she extended her hand and said, ‘I am Susan Bancroft’. Reaching out to her it was electric, and I know she felt it to as her eyes dilated when we touched.

Smiling and flushed I said, ‘I am Carson Balman’. Drawing back with a slightly startled look, she said ‘I know you’. ‘I’m the one who covered the story about your family tragedy for the Coeur d’Alene Press. It was horrible and I am so sorry’. Noticing her feeling uncomfortable I said, ‘now I make the connection. You did a fine job, both accurate and compassionate. Thank you’. Relaxing you said, ‘I did not recognize you from the photograph in the paper with the clean scrubbed military look. ‘I was happy to abandon that persona’ I said, ‘for a relaxed look that better fits my new pursuits. Now it is boots and blue jeans, plaids, long sleeves, henleys, and hoodies’. My hair was a thick dark mange that I combed with my fingers and shook to relax touching my shoulders, sometimes with a ballcap atop my crown. My face was covered with a dark haze popular these days.

Secretly I wondered if women would find me attractive now in my mid-thirties, not early twenties when I was first married. Smiling you said, ‘I think country chic would best describe you. Relaxed, comfortable with your new image’ and dropping her eyes, ‘and very handsome’. Quickly you asked ‘tell me about your new pursuits’. ‘I have become a writer’, I said. ‘I am currently working on a sequel to my first long story that was published receiving a very favorable reception. Maybe it’s just beginner’s luck but I am encouraged to continue this path’. ‘Great,’ ‘I am an avid reader. What was the name of your book’? ‘It’s possible you may have come across it’ I said, ‘I write using a pseudonym. I don’t want or need the attention or distraction. ‘Ferguson Jennings is the’, ‘Wait! you are Ferguson Jennings! I read your book, ‘Terra Genesis and another chance’. I loved it’! Enthusiastically reaching out your hand with bright eyes and a huge smile you said, ‘May I shake your hand again’? What a pleasant surprise’.

Once again there was current in our clasp. Pausing you spoke, ‘your readers are going to want more of a bio from you. It’s a point of connection that often resonates with people’. ‘I know’ I said, ‘my editors have made me aware’.

‘Let me get us another coffee’ I said, ‘I would love to hear about you’. Returning with hot Joe and fresh lemon bars you said, ‘how did you know’? After more coffee and conversation she began to open up about herself. Born and raised in Moscow Idaho she attended the U of I getting a degree in journalism working with periodicals, newspapers, and magazines. While working for The Press, Susan went to night school and earned a realtor’s license, and like me gravitated to a smaller community and a slower pace of life.

She was married until the death of her husband in a skiing accident. He was on Silver Mountain in Kellogg with friends and hit a slick spot. Not thinking he reached down to do a quick adjustment of his bindings then looked up unable to avoid a tree. His friends got him carefully off the mountain, but he died two days later from a massive brain bleed. ‘I was with him when he drew his last breath’, she said. Reaching out and grabbing her hand I held it gently and matching her gaze saying, ‘I’m truly sorry for your loss, but I think we are two souls on the mend’.

As Susan got up to leave I asked ‘do you think I will see you tomorrow’? Smiling and looking me in the eye you said, ‘You can count on it. Same time same place’. And this became our coveted ritual, a place to talk and share freely, opening our hearts to the possibility of love once again. She was a natural beauty with long auburn hair, dark inquiring eyes, and a softness in her countenance that didn’t require lavish amounts of makeup. And yes, she was well put together, looking good in anything she wore.

After a while she invited me to her townhouse on the water with impressive views of the Cabinet Mountains, and Lake Pend d’Oreille one of the top five deepest lakes in America. During WWII it was the second largest naval training ground in the world with large scale submarine prototypes skulking in its deep waters. Reciprocating she came to my house immediately falling in love with the setting and its Victorian charm. I could only help in the kitchen not having developed any level of culinary competence, adequate but certainly not for entertaining.

A few months past and sitting by the fire one night I finally got up the nerve to express my heart completely. First in a casual manner I suggested that she didn’t have to pay her monthly fee for her townhouse if she made the decision to move in here with me. ‘And what are you proposing about the sleeping arrangements’ she inquired with sarcasm and a smile. Breathing out I said ‘Susan, I know its only been a short time but you have captured my heart, lock stock and barrel. I don’t want to live lonely, and I don’t want to live without you. Clearing my throat and looking into her radiant face I said the words she wanted to hear. ‘I love you and I’m praying you will answer my prayer and be my wife. Will you marry me? ‘Ah, yes’ she said as a geyser of tears flooded her face. We sat holding each other and then you spoke. ‘I have always known from our first meeting that you were the man I would spent the rest of my life with. I started loving you then, knowing we could help broken hearts mend’.

It was a beautiful May day when we said our vows outside in a small pavilion with a spectacular view of the lake and mountains. Close family and friends gave witness to our love and commitment. Tears of joy overflowed. It was shortly after Susan made this house a home that I began to have strange visions and dreams. Often I would be taken up looking down at myself working in my normal routine. There was nothing sinister, dark, or foreboding, but certainly unsettling. We decided to research our area for anything that might be a link to my unusual experiences. Hesitant to label them as paranormal, metaphysical, or out of body I still felt I was being prepped by forces out of my control.

Our investigation did not reveal adequate evidence of ley lines or vortexes, but reference was made to the chiefs and spiritual leaders of the Kalispel Indians who spent time in this area seeking for guidance and wisdom, with energy conductors, creating electric current, as well as semi-conductors in the ground below us in the form of copper, quartz, galena, tourmaline, topaz, gold and silver among others. At one time a mining firm obtained core samples confirming the presence of these minerals and metals, but with insufficient quantities to warrant a capital venture.

I continued to have these experiences until one day I found myself in another world, place, or dimension staring at a man who looked exactly like me. He looked up from what he was doing and said, ‘howdy, I’ve been looking forward to finally meeting you in person. And yes, I’m you just living in a parallel place adjacent to your world and experience, only without the scars. Picture a sidewalk with an expansion joint in the middle’, you spoke. ‘You walk on one side not realizing a parallel world exists so close, right next to you’. He walked over and gave me a hug. ‘I’m a touch person just like you. Looking into my face, he motioned for me to sit down. ‘Got lots of questions don’t ya’. ‘You can only imagine’ I said.

‘Scientist believe’, you said ‘that there may be thousands of other earth like planets totally capable of sustaining human life. I don’t really know how many are out there. I do know we have a symbiotic relationship with the earth. Sad to say it’s mostly a one way street as we are aware of you, but you rarely of us. For now just accept the existence of this while we consider what’s happening with you and your planet.

From your youth you were being prepped for this reality. All the tragedy and death you’ve witnessed has helped loosen the bonds that bind you and everyone on earth to merely a physical, material, self-centric superficial existence. Your tragedies have not only loosened the chains that bound you but helped you to define all that is really important in your life. All the generations that proceeded you have embedded their mark on your mind. Only a handful desire or imagine anything different rejecting the greater in the pursuit of a nice home, new car, fancy foods, a well-stocked bar, a rewarding career, and leisure retirement without any financial restraints and a good medical plan. Others live a dismal existence searching daily for a way to provide for themselves and maybe a family, and still others live waiting to die and live forever in a Heavenly Hotel with streets of Gold, bountiful buffets, and open season for unlimited glorious fishing and hunting’.

Continuing he said, ‘whatever your path in life you are unwittingly a willing compliant to your blindness and enslavement. Change, true change is accomplished by a succession of steps, dissatisfaction with the present world pivotal to your metamorphosis. Letting go of the one in order to receive the other. What you know of life is largely through its polarities: night and day, sickness and health, summer and winter, want and abundance, right and wrong, though not so clear any more. Every coin has two sides, and everything you experience a natural existing opposite: Love and hate, war and peace. Doesn’t it follow that the earth would have one too, and each one of us their own opposite or twin, always the mirror in reflection. This present version of the world was created from the void left from the previous one. Created in the beginning and experiencing multiple catastrophism’s it is growing weary and tired again and this time fire will destroy heaven, the part contaminated with evil, the earth and all its elements.

Sodom and Gomorrah would blush if they beheld the abominable evil, filthiness, and depravity the present world wallows in and justifies. Even those who do not practice these perversions take a que sera attitude adjusting to the new cultural climate like they do the weather. You are now at the mercy of madmen, genocidal maniacs who simultaneously are poisoning your soup with arsenic, your wine with cyanide, carpet bombing the air you breathe and the ground you walk on along with everything that grows on it with tons of toxins effectively blocking out the sun while they attempt to nuke the neighborhood and then not be able to identify the cause of death because all these things are safe and effective, not multiple mechanisms of harm’.

‘Seed after seed and kind after kind a simple genetic formula to sustain and provide for all time. If all races come from Adam, the newcomer in the earth long after its repopulation, then it follows that all fruit comes from the seed of an apple, and all vegetables and grains from a kernel of corn. Reasoning a little further if the things that are made come from things unseen and we are warned not to look to the visible, except to acknowledge the evidence of God, and with all things being made new to the exclusion of sin and death, what does creation consist of’? Pondering his question, I said ‘atoms’. ‘And what do all atoms consist of’? ‘99.99 percent empty space but with energy’, I said.

‘So it is that every single thing you touch, taste, see, handle, and breathe is given its own unique form while in actuality it consists of nothingness. It is man that has built all these constructs in your mind with lines, laws, boundaries, rules, and regulations. Everything appears fixed, real, and solid with proportion and dimension. Tell me how much is the US Dollar worth’? ‘It is created out of thin air with nothing to sustain its value except the people’s belief in it’ I said. ‘Likewise, nothing has value to you or any power over you except what you give it. It is the fear of loss, disease, death, a collapsing economy, food shortages, sky rocketing fuel costs, and fear of the unknown and unseen ad nauseum, that is the driver in this present world. Without fear there would be no standing armies, and no need for government to control and confiscate.

Your experience in life can be summoned up as a journey in darkness, ignorance, and fear. Don’t be like the elephant tethered with a thin line of twine or terrorized into submission by a mouse. Remember the admonitions in the scriptures to fear no evil, to fear no one and to fear no thing, taking no anxious thought for food, raiment, or the rent, never wanting never lacking’.

‘The earth was created with good and evil and choices. We are not all sailing in the same boat. Just ask Noah and his eight. Don’t fret about evil and evil doers. Evil is not eternal, nor will darkness stand in the presence of light’. ‘What then is possible to obtain to in this present world’? I asked. ‘The scriptures commanded you to be perfect even as your Father in Heaven is perfect. I believe you will be the generation that will see this come to pass. Out of the darkness and into the light, a new day dawning the genesis of a new beginning’.

We talked for hours and he answered multiple questions. When we finally said goodbye and gave each other a parting hug, I was instantly back in my home again, greeted by a beautiful woman, a sweet kiss, a warm fire, and a glass of wine. Smiling with laughing eyes you said, ‘so tell me what you’ve been up to today and where you’ve been’. Sitting back and relaxing I chuckled and smiled. ‘Let me see, how do I begin’?