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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Isle of Carthis
April 2, 1970
Catherine Parker let her hand brush across the stone wall as she gazed about the small room, "This is it- atleast I think so."
Her companion shook his head, "I don't understand, Catherine. There's nothing here."
"So it appears," she mumbled under her breath. Prudently, she chewed the words up in her mouth before exhaling, "Except."
With a whining scrape, she pushed the lid of a coffin in the center of the room, Jacob quickly coming to her aid. Eventually, there was a gaping opening in which she, with a fiery glint in her eyes, reached down in side and came out with a small cedar chest. Upon opening the box, there appeared cloth-tied paper, the scrolls.
"The prophecy," she murmured, "this has to be it, my friend."
"Catherine, I," Jacob paused in awe, "maybe we shouldn't."
Eyes never leaving the scrolls, Catherine waved Jacob's idea aside boldy, "Nonsense, Jacob. We've come this far. Here we have our own Holy Grail."
Hands trembling, Catherine untied the knot and hungrily began reading the text. Cautiously, Jacob peered over her shoulder and both their eyes were wide and they scanned the words precociously. With a start, Mrs Parker's knees buckled out from underneath her and she slid down the nearby wall.
"Catherine! What is it?" Jacob knelt down beside her, grasping her small hands.
Her eyes glazed over and her forehead creased with pain, confusion, and shock, Catherine simply stared at him and whispered, "I can't believe it, I really can't believe it."
"Can't believe what?" he inquired with his sweet belgium accent.
"My daughter, Jarod. I, Jacob, the prophecy is true. I can't believe this. We can end the Centre with this, but it says we will fail. I don't understand, but somehow the children are the only ones who will be able to accomplish this. 'Though they may quarrel, hunt and scamper, the chosen, a boy named Jarod and a girl of the Parker heritage, will together conquest the corrupted.' My angel, our angel, she'll complete my plan with Jarod. The only thing is, they don't quarrel in the slightest, quite the opposite. Perhaps another... Jacob?"
"I can't begin to comprehend or understand, but according to this, destiny will be fulfilled, and soon they will be enemies."
"I don't forsee that at all, impossible," she shook her head.
"Not impossible. Nothing is," Jacob murmured.
"Hey!" a loud voice echoed through the dark dungeon-like room, "what are you two doing down here?"
"We, just, uh," Catherine started, but could muster no explanation.
"Eh, those be the scrolls aren't they!" he pointed at her.
She could do nothing, but stare at him with the wide eyes of a petrifed deer. Suddenly, a shot rang out in the bitter frosty air and the monk fell to his knees and groaned, clutching his chest, in which a fountain of scarlet pain was erupting. Behind him, a figure appeared, but the silouhette was unknown until it spoke, "Catherine, give those to me."
She looked up into the stone eyes of her husband and, clutching the scrolls to her chest, held tight and affirmidly spoke, "I'd rather die."
"Don't say things like that! Damn it, Catherine, why must you do these things! You don't realize what you've done now!" he glared at her angrily and grabbed her wrist tightly.
"Please, Sweetheart, it will be all right. I've read the prophecy!"
"No!" he struck her, causing the scrolls to flutter to the ground, which Jacob quickly loaded back into the wooden chest, "Nothing will ever be the same!"
"But for the better my darling! Please," she began weeping, "it doesn't have to be this way."
"Don't even bother with excuses, Catherine. I may still love you, but I don't want to. I know about the two of you," she glanced at him with guilty pleading eyes in which he continued, "don't act so surprised. The Centre has eyes everywhere. Even in Scotland. Its time to go. And you will pretend that today has never happened."
"I will not pretend like one of your science experiments! This is for those poor children!"
"And you're killing yourselves in the process! Catherine, not another word, we're leaving. Jacob, see to it that those scrolls be put away for eternity. One day, this will be fine. Everyone will be forgiven for their sins. Now, Jacob!"
While Catherine was whisked out the door, Sydney's brother scampered to return the scrolls to the tomb, which little did he know, but it would be reopened in a couple of short decades by an unsuspecting couple whose futures would be revealed beneath the stone seal.
*****
"Jarod, our Jarod? How do you know that its the same Jarod?" Margaret inquired after Catherine wrapped up her story.
"Your boy is so incredibly special, and I can easily forsee a future between him and my daughter."
"So, what is it that you intend to do about this, Catherine?" Major Charles remarked skeptically, though hopeful.
"Some friends and I plan to rescue the children," she affirmed.
"How do you plan to do that?" Margaret asked nervously wringing her hands together.
Catherine sighed, "Well, we have some tricks up our sleeves and I plan to ask Jarod for his help as well. He's the mastermind behind any great plan."
"Is he going to be okay? I mean, the prophecy, what exactly did they say would become of him?" Charles murmured shyly.
"He will endure the unbelievable. But he will endure and that's what's important. I know that. Trust me. Everything will be fine. We are all going to make it through these trying times we've become so accustomed to."
"Thank-you, Catherine, you don't realize just how much you are doing."
"For myself as well," she nodded, "now I must be going or else my husband will become suspicious and my colleagues can't cover for me forever. I appreciate what you've done for me."
"Come back anytime," the two walked her to the door and waved goodbye as she drove away into the distance.
"Do you believe her?" Margaret whispered to her husband.
"Honey, that is too pure a story and woman for me to not believe her."
He patted her on the shoulders and gave her a hug as the dust settled before them. Soon it would be stirred again, and that was what he feared.
April 2, 1970
Catherine Parker let her hand brush across the stone wall as she gazed about the small room, "This is it- atleast I think so."
Her companion shook his head, "I don't understand, Catherine. There's nothing here."
"So it appears," she mumbled under her breath. Prudently, she chewed the words up in her mouth before exhaling, "Except."
With a whining scrape, she pushed the lid of a coffin in the center of the room, Jacob quickly coming to her aid. Eventually, there was a gaping opening in which she, with a fiery glint in her eyes, reached down in side and came out with a small cedar chest. Upon opening the box, there appeared cloth-tied paper, the scrolls.
"The prophecy," she murmured, "this has to be it, my friend."
"Catherine, I," Jacob paused in awe, "maybe we shouldn't."
Eyes never leaving the scrolls, Catherine waved Jacob's idea aside boldy, "Nonsense, Jacob. We've come this far. Here we have our own Holy Grail."
Hands trembling, Catherine untied the knot and hungrily began reading the text. Cautiously, Jacob peered over her shoulder and both their eyes were wide and they scanned the words precociously. With a start, Mrs Parker's knees buckled out from underneath her and she slid down the nearby wall.
"Catherine! What is it?" Jacob knelt down beside her, grasping her small hands.
Her eyes glazed over and her forehead creased with pain, confusion, and shock, Catherine simply stared at him and whispered, "I can't believe it, I really can't believe it."
"Can't believe what?" he inquired with his sweet belgium accent.
"My daughter, Jarod. I, Jacob, the prophecy is true. I can't believe this. We can end the Centre with this, but it says we will fail. I don't understand, but somehow the children are the only ones who will be able to accomplish this. 'Though they may quarrel, hunt and scamper, the chosen, a boy named Jarod and a girl of the Parker heritage, will together conquest the corrupted.' My angel, our angel, she'll complete my plan with Jarod. The only thing is, they don't quarrel in the slightest, quite the opposite. Perhaps another... Jacob?"
"I can't begin to comprehend or understand, but according to this, destiny will be fulfilled, and soon they will be enemies."
"I don't forsee that at all, impossible," she shook her head.
"Not impossible. Nothing is," Jacob murmured.
"Hey!" a loud voice echoed through the dark dungeon-like room, "what are you two doing down here?"
"We, just, uh," Catherine started, but could muster no explanation.
"Eh, those be the scrolls aren't they!" he pointed at her.
She could do nothing, but stare at him with the wide eyes of a petrifed deer. Suddenly, a shot rang out in the bitter frosty air and the monk fell to his knees and groaned, clutching his chest, in which a fountain of scarlet pain was erupting. Behind him, a figure appeared, but the silouhette was unknown until it spoke, "Catherine, give those to me."
She looked up into the stone eyes of her husband and, clutching the scrolls to her chest, held tight and affirmidly spoke, "I'd rather die."
"Don't say things like that! Damn it, Catherine, why must you do these things! You don't realize what you've done now!" he glared at her angrily and grabbed her wrist tightly.
"Please, Sweetheart, it will be all right. I've read the prophecy!"
"No!" he struck her, causing the scrolls to flutter to the ground, which Jacob quickly loaded back into the wooden chest, "Nothing will ever be the same!"
"But for the better my darling! Please," she began weeping, "it doesn't have to be this way."
"Don't even bother with excuses, Catherine. I may still love you, but I don't want to. I know about the two of you," she glanced at him with guilty pleading eyes in which he continued, "don't act so surprised. The Centre has eyes everywhere. Even in Scotland. Its time to go. And you will pretend that today has never happened."
"I will not pretend like one of your science experiments! This is for those poor children!"
"And you're killing yourselves in the process! Catherine, not another word, we're leaving. Jacob, see to it that those scrolls be put away for eternity. One day, this will be fine. Everyone will be forgiven for their sins. Now, Jacob!"
While Catherine was whisked out the door, Sydney's brother scampered to return the scrolls to the tomb, which little did he know, but it would be reopened in a couple of short decades by an unsuspecting couple whose futures would be revealed beneath the stone seal.
*****
"Jarod, our Jarod? How do you know that its the same Jarod?" Margaret inquired after Catherine wrapped up her story.
"Your boy is so incredibly special, and I can easily forsee a future between him and my daughter."
"So, what is it that you intend to do about this, Catherine?" Major Charles remarked skeptically, though hopeful.
"Some friends and I plan to rescue the children," she affirmed.
"How do you plan to do that?" Margaret asked nervously wringing her hands together.
Catherine sighed, "Well, we have some tricks up our sleeves and I plan to ask Jarod for his help as well. He's the mastermind behind any great plan."
"Is he going to be okay? I mean, the prophecy, what exactly did they say would become of him?" Charles murmured shyly.
"He will endure the unbelievable. But he will endure and that's what's important. I know that. Trust me. Everything will be fine. We are all going to make it through these trying times we've become so accustomed to."
"Thank-you, Catherine, you don't realize just how much you are doing."
"For myself as well," she nodded, "now I must be going or else my husband will become suspicious and my colleagues can't cover for me forever. I appreciate what you've done for me."
"Come back anytime," the two walked her to the door and waved goodbye as she drove away into the distance.
"Do you believe her?" Margaret whispered to her husband.
"Honey, that is too pure a story and woman for me to not believe her."
He patted her on the shoulders and gave her a hug as the dust settled before them. Soon it would be stirred again, and that was what he feared.
