Footsteps echoed down a dark hallway, hard soles against hard wood.
Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop.
A door was opened by an unseen hand. The hinges creaked as the door gave passage to the Bringer of Light and a light switch was turned on, giving life to two chandeliers hanging far above the board room table. Then the door shut and the Bringer of Light was gone again.
Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop.
The chandeliers were aged brass – not polished, yet not greened with tarnish – and shone their light through dozens of pieces of rectangular glass. The board room was filled with their light, though not overwhelmingly so. The room itself looked out of place in time. Clap boards made the floors, walls, and ceiling, as if the room had been transported through time from the Colonial eighteenth century. Yet at the same time, however, it was very fitting – simple and functional.
There were no windows and only one door, which gave the board room great privacy and seclusion. There were no decorations on the walls, and no furniture except one long, oval table and eight wooden chairs, each befitting this room out of time. The table was hewn oak and hand carved, sanded, yet unfinished. It had been well used and weathered with time, yet just as sturdy and strong as the day it was built. Although the chairs were mismatched, each fit in with the table they surrounded – five on one side and three on the opposite. They were carved out of the same tree as the table and each chair was handcrafted to be similar yet different from the others.
The board room was ready. An important meeting was about to take place. Yehu himself was going to be the there. More than important, this meeting was critical and long awaited. Many great decisions were about to be made in this room, crucial decisions.
And under one end of the table someone or something moved, shifting its weight as it breathed heavily and nervously.
The door opened again and the Bringer of Light entered the room with another chair different from the rest. It was newer, with a cherry finish. It also had a padded seat and back and arm rests. There would be a guest at today’s meeting. The Bringer of Light set the chair down in the corner to the right of the door and turned to walk out of the room again, this time leaving the door open. Shortly after, the scribe, who would serve as the meeting’s mediator and conductor, took his place in the padded chair, pen and notebook in hand. The meeting was about to begin.
Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, a young man was sitting on a small precipice overlooking a winding creek, about sixty feet above the water’s surface.
Footsteps snapped twigs and crunched leaves somewhere in the forest above the precipice. They drew nearer with each step as if the precipice was their destination. Or perhaps it was the one sitting there on the rock that the footsteps came to see. The young man stood and turned, not startled or afraid, but perhaps curious or on the other hand, expecting.
“Mind if I join you?” The voice belonged to another young man who looked to be in his early thirties. He stepped through the trees and brush of the forest into the rock and moss clearing just before the small cliff. He wore blue jeans and hiking boots, a button down flannel shirt and a backpack, and he had long hair pulled back into a pony tail. His face was kind, yet not exactly handsome. He wasn’t necessarily ugly, but he wouldn’t have made it on any calendars either. But something about him was very disarming. His persona quietly shouted, “Hey, I’m a good guy.” And so he was.
The young man stood up to respond: “Sure.” He watched as the hiker climbed down to the cliff. “I was hoping you would show,” the young man said as they both turned to look out over the water. For a moment they stood in silence. Then the hiker spoke: “Of course I came. You asked me to meet you here, didn’t you?” He smiled as he said it and the young man responded with a smile of his own.
Then the hiker turned to the young man and began to speak: “I have a message from my father.” The young man gave him his full attention.
(For the continuation of this story go to the "Boardroom and the Hiker Continuation" link on the right under the "Pages" header)
Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop.
A door was opened by an unseen hand. The hinges creaked as the door gave passage to the Bringer of Light and a light switch was turned on, giving life to two chandeliers hanging far above the board room table. Then the door shut and the Bringer of Light was gone again.
Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop.
The chandeliers were aged brass – not polished, yet not greened with tarnish – and shone their light through dozens of pieces of rectangular glass. The board room was filled with their light, though not overwhelmingly so. The room itself looked out of place in time. Clap boards made the floors, walls, and ceiling, as if the room had been transported through time from the Colonial eighteenth century. Yet at the same time, however, it was very fitting – simple and functional.
There were no windows and only one door, which gave the board room great privacy and seclusion. There were no decorations on the walls, and no furniture except one long, oval table and eight wooden chairs, each befitting this room out of time. The table was hewn oak and hand carved, sanded, yet unfinished. It had been well used and weathered with time, yet just as sturdy and strong as the day it was built. Although the chairs were mismatched, each fit in with the table they surrounded – five on one side and three on the opposite. They were carved out of the same tree as the table and each chair was handcrafted to be similar yet different from the others.
The board room was ready. An important meeting was about to take place. Yehu himself was going to be the there. More than important, this meeting was critical and long awaited. Many great decisions were about to be made in this room, crucial decisions.
And under one end of the table someone or something moved, shifting its weight as it breathed heavily and nervously.
The door opened again and the Bringer of Light entered the room with another chair different from the rest. It was newer, with a cherry finish. It also had a padded seat and back and arm rests. There would be a guest at today’s meeting. The Bringer of Light set the chair down in the corner to the right of the door and turned to walk out of the room again, this time leaving the door open. Shortly after, the scribe, who would serve as the meeting’s mediator and conductor, took his place in the padded chair, pen and notebook in hand. The meeting was about to begin.
Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, a young man was sitting on a small precipice overlooking a winding creek, about sixty feet above the water’s surface.
Footsteps snapped twigs and crunched leaves somewhere in the forest above the precipice. They drew nearer with each step as if the precipice was their destination. Or perhaps it was the one sitting there on the rock that the footsteps came to see. The young man stood and turned, not startled or afraid, but perhaps curious or on the other hand, expecting.
“Mind if I join you?” The voice belonged to another young man who looked to be in his early thirties. He stepped through the trees and brush of the forest into the rock and moss clearing just before the small cliff. He wore blue jeans and hiking boots, a button down flannel shirt and a backpack, and he had long hair pulled back into a pony tail. His face was kind, yet not exactly handsome. He wasn’t necessarily ugly, but he wouldn’t have made it on any calendars either. But something about him was very disarming. His persona quietly shouted, “Hey, I’m a good guy.” And so he was.
The young man stood up to respond: “Sure.” He watched as the hiker climbed down to the cliff. “I was hoping you would show,” the young man said as they both turned to look out over the water. For a moment they stood in silence. Then the hiker spoke: “Of course I came. You asked me to meet you here, didn’t you?” He smiled as he said it and the young man responded with a smile of his own.
Then the hiker turned to the young man and began to speak: “I have a message from my father.” The young man gave him his full attention.
(For the continuation of this story go to the "Boardroom and the Hiker Continuation" link on the right under the "Pages" header)
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