A Butterfly's Dream

Sitting in the pew, David sighs softly and wished he was at home. His eyes follow the tall man who seems to rant and rave against all that wasn’t right in his eyes.. Shifting and looking to his left, David notices that his mother had taken to glaring at the man. To his right, he saw that his father had a slightly awed expression on his face, telling him all that he needed to know, and he sighed once more. Looked like his father was going to start therapy again.

Shaking his head, he looks up and sees the pastor’s black eyes bore into him for a moment before moving on. Shivering at the look that those eyes had held, David tries to sink down into his pew, not wanting to attract those eyes to his face again. They had pierced right through him and it made him…almost afraid to hear the thoughts that went through the mind behind them. The darkness that he found there was something to fear, to be nervous about.

Tuning back into the sermon, he sighs softly as he listens to the man start off about witches and the ungodliness of their evil ways.

“If ya’ll will turn to Leviticus 19:31, it says ‘Do not turn to mediums or wizards; do not seek them to be defiled by them: I am the Lord, your God.’ What this means here is that we shouldn’t seek out witches, mediums and those who claim that they can foretell the future, as they are nothing more than whores,” the man hisses at the people sitting in the pews. Several nod and agree, a few of the older women waving fans.

Right, and why is it then that I went to Clary, but I have yet to sleep with him, or do anything else for that matter? David thinks to himself, shaking his head as the man continues with his sermon.

“If you will turn now to Leviticus 20:6, it says ‘If a person turns to mediums and wizards, playing the harlot after them, I will set my face against that person and will cut him off from among his people.’ This passage talks about the consequences should a person consort with a witch. To put it plainly…” He puts the book down and takes off his glasses to wipe off his lenses, deliberately pausing for effect. “…you will be shunned by all those who know and follow God’s laws because God will turn away from you, refusing to take you back into his bosom.”

David stares at the Bible in his hands. Why is it that God is supposed to be this great forgiving being, but then will turn around and ignore His ‘supposed’ children? Why does He hate these people – witches, homosexuals? Who’s next? Jews?

“Please turn your eyes to Leviticus 20:27. Now mind you, this unfortunately doesn’t apply to us now; since if we did this, the law would come after us,” the pastor chuckles softly and clears his throat. “A man or a woman who is a medium or a wizard shall be put to death; they shall be stoned with stones, their blood shall be upon them.” Now what that means is that we are not to tolerate these creatures of Satan. They should not be allowed to live near us, eat with us, and break bread with us. They should be cast out of our lives and made to live outside of our society; far, far away from us.”

Why do I get the feeling Pastor Alex is nothing more than a prejudiced hypocrite? David glares at the man for a moment before turning his eyes to his Bible again. I want this sermon to end already. He’s always so long winded.

“So far we have read passages that condemn those who are witches, mediums and sorcerers,” Pastor Alex says, looking out over the congregation. Most of the people in the pews were looking back at him with serious looks, their eyes nearly adoring him; while others were looking decidedly bored by how long the sermon was going on. David was from the latter group and was still staring at his bible. “But what exactly do these words mean? What will happen to those who disregard God’s warnings? What will happen to these people? These sinners?”

“The answer comes from the Book of Malachi, chapter 3, verse 5. It says ‘Then I will draw near to you for judgment; I will be a sift witness against the sorcerers, against the adulterers, against those who oppress the hireling in his wages, the widow and the orphans, against those who thrust aside the sojourner, and do not fear me, says the Lord of Hosts.’”

Taking a sip of water, his earlier energy seeming to finally calm down, he asks, “Now that really doesn’t explain what really will happen to them, now does it? But this one shall answer those questions for you. Same book, chapter 4, verse 1 says ‘For behold, the day comes, burning like an oven, when all the arrogant and all evildoers will be stubble; the day that comes shall burn them up, says the Lord of Hosts, so that it will leave them neither root nor branch.’

“Aw, now we find the punishments. This text, in a way, refers to the revelation, the Rapture of all those who follow God, those who believe and worship at His feet. But we are not looking for the rapture. No, I’m wrong on that part,” Pastor Alex continues to say, pausing to sweep his eyes over the crowd again, his eyes narrowing. “We are looking at the Rapture; the time when all sinners are judged and found lacking.”

Ah, I see the end in sight. This long winded stupidity fest is finally starting to wrap up. David thinks, smiling at his bible as he notes the passages that Pastor Alex was using. Maybe I can do some research on what this idiot is saying. I don’t believe a single word as it is and he’s just confusing me even more.

“Those who go to these witches, sorcerers and psychics, to seek their advice will all be condemned for. God is the only person you should go to for your life’s questions! God is all you should need! Everything that is out there to tempt you is placed there by Satan’s children! They take the shape of the witches and psychics. They take the shape of those who lay with the same sex! They can even take the shape of your children! Do not let them fool you. Protect yourself from their temptations.

“Pray with me,” the pastor finishes, bowing his head. Everyone around David followed the pastor’s example and started to pray with him. David glares at his bible, trying not to let anyone else see what he was doing. He didn’t want to be there and he was immensely grateful when the service finished and they were able to leave the church.

On the way back home, the silence in the car was deafening and made him shrink into his seat as he flipoed his phone open and turned it back on. His father had turned it off before he had been able to answer an incoming call and he was wondering who had called him. Calling his voice mail, he settles back and smirks at the sound of Clary’s voice.

“Hey, David. Look, I got the information that you wanted, plus a lot more. I have the flash drive and more info, so I need you to bring another flash drive and a few burnable CDs. I think you’re going to freak about what I found,” the message says. David makes a note to find his stash of CDs and to head over to Clary’s as soon as they get home. It looked like an argument was brewing between his parents and he had no urge to be home during that.

The moment that his father pulled up to their house and parked the car, David was out of it and heading up to the door, pulling his keys out of his pocket. Unlocking the door, he heads up the stairs, his mother following soon after, wondering what got into her son. Heading to his room and stripping off his shirt and pants, putting them into his hamper, David sneers at the pile of clothing. He hated anything that wasn’t his style and the long sleeved shirt and cotton pants were anything but.

Digging around his closet, he finally pulls on a pair of jeans, the rips in the knees showing his smooth skin. Digging again, David pulls out a soft green peasants’ shirt. Pulling it on, he adds a pair of tennis shoes and goes into the bathroom to fix his hair. His mother insisted that he part it and slick it so that it would stay in a way that reminded him of a 60’s perfect family ad. It made him snort and want to walk out in his rattiest outfit.

Finally getting his hair loose enough that it hung around his face, David goes back into his room and kneels down beside his bed. Fishing under the bed, he finally squeaks and pulls out a long, thin storage bucket, which he smiles at. Taking the top off, he shifts around before finding the hard, plastic CD case that he had been looking for. Pulling out about ten of them just to be on the safe side, he transfers them to another CD case, which he stuffs into a backpack.

Finding two flash drives, which were kept in a side pocket of his backpack, he grabs his keys and phone before thumping down the stairs. Finding his parents glaring at each other in the dining room, he moves to the kitchen and pulls open the door. Grabbing three bottles of water, he slides them into his backpack and turns to his still glaring parents.

“I need to go over to Clary’s house. I’ll be taking my bike,” David tells them, eyeing them warily, knowing the looks that they were giving each other.

“Will you be staying over there for dinner?” his mother asks, her tone strained as she tries to keep a bright happy tone for David. He shrugs and slips his bag on.

“Don’t know. I’ll call and tell you what the plan is once I get there. I just know he needs me for something,” he replies.

Well, it’s not a lie. He thinks, opening the side door to the garage. I just omitted some things.

Unlocking his bike, he walks out of the garage before getting on. Pausing for a moment, he curses softly before getting off his bike. Putting the kick stand down, he runs back inside, through the garage and steps into the kitchen. Seeing his parents still glaring at each other, he rolls his eyes and grabs his I-pod from the counter.

Putting the buds into his ears, he heads back outside and was soon peddling towards Clary’s house with ‘Don’t Fear The Reaper’ blaring in his ears. Singing along, he nods his head in time to the tune. Stopping a few times when needing to cross the street, he uses those times to make sure that the song was on constant replay, feeling the need to hear it.

As the song started on its fifth round, David stops in front of Clary’s house and slides off his bike. Walking it up to the door and ringing the door bell, he kneels down to lock the bike up. He may have felt safe on the property, but he didn’t feel safe in the neighborhood, so he wasn’t taking any chances.

Standing up and flipping his I-pod off, David walks up to the door, pressing the door bell again. He shoves the player into his bag as he waits for someone to answer. Shaking his head off of random thoughts, David snorts softly and rocks on the heels of his feet as he stares at the markings above the door.

I am really starting to hate that long winded jack of a preacher. He snorts again. The guy just has to go on and on and on about stupid things. Witches in this day and age are nothing more than pacifists; at least to my knowledge.

Shaking his head, he looks down, hearing someone coming up to the door and undoing the locks. He smiles softly as Clary’s mother opened the door.

David was still surprised that a woman of such short stature could control a big man like Alexander the way she did. Speaking of the man, it looked like he was in the living room, working on one of the instruments he had created as a hobby. Waving at him as he steps into the house, David turns to the little woman and smiles shyly at her.

“Hello, Mrs. McNamin,” he says softly, removing his shoes and putting them aside, seeing that most of the floor was wet and a mop sat to the side.

“Hello, child,” she replies, smiling at him in return. David found it nice to be called child or some other form of the word, especially when it came from her. It brought back emotions that he had long thought of as dead, ever since his father had begun his downward spiral into madness.

Shaking his head that makes his hair fall onto his face and obscures his vision, David shoves those thoughts to the back of his mind.

“Is Clary in?” he asks. Seeing the prompting look directed at him made him blush, but he managed to get the urge to back down after mentally beating it with a very large sledgehammer.

“Yes, he is, sweet one. He and another friend of his are upstairs in his room. They are more likely decorating his new cast,” she tells him and then heads for the kitchen, her feet making no sound on the hard floor. “Go on up and I’ll bring you some fresh juice. Just made this morning,” she calls over her shoulder.

“What kind?” he asks, perking up at the thought of her delicious home-made juices. He’d only had them when he had come over the last three times to work on their computer project. They were all sweet, but not overbearing and was something that he had come to enjoy and look forward to.

“Caramel Apple,” she replies. He smiles and nods before heading upstairs with a greeting to Alexander, who just grunted, not looking up from his sanding. David took no insult and made his way up the stairs, towards the door from which the sounds of a battle were coming from. Knocking on the door, he snickers as he hears someone curse loudly, before starting to moan unhappily about dieing just as he was about to lay waste the Nazi jackasses.

“Shove it, Mitchell. You saved your spot and you’ll be able to continue later,” Clary was saying, opening the door for David, who was trying hard not to laugh at the curses coming from the other male in the room. “Hey, David. What took you so long?”

“The pastor went on a rant again. This time about witches and how anyone connected to them are doomed to hell,” David replies, walking into the room and raising an eyebrow at the dark haired male lounging in a bean bag seat that had seen better days. “Hello.”

“Hey,” Mitchell replies, tilting his head back and beating the urge to whistle back. He may have liked women, but he wasn’t opposed to a pretty male; and the one in front of him was the definition of pretty, at least to him. Shaking those thoughts away, he gets up from the bean bag chair and offers David his hand. “I’m Mitchell, one of Clary’s friends.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mitchell. I’m David,” David replies, taking the hand that was offered to him and shaking it. “So, what are you doing here?” he asks, his voice laced with curiosity.

“Helping Clary shift through the hundreds of thousands of articles,” Mitchell says glancing at Clary, who was snickering softly as he waddled behind David.

“Oh? So he told you what I was looking for?” David asks, turning to Clary with a raised eyebrow. Clary waves his hands in front of his face in supplication.

“Hey, now be nice. I didn’t tell him everything; just that I needed help. Otherwise the research would have ended up being annoying and super long since there were indeed hundreds of thousands of articles,” Clary explained.

David looked at him for a few more moments before nodding and sitting down in a chair. Taking off his backpack, he digs around as Clary’s mother walks in with three glasses of juice.

“Here you go, you three. David, do you wish to stay and eat with us tonight?” she asks, handing first Clary, then Mitchell and then David a glass. David sips the juice, one hand still in his bag and nods. “If you don’t mind.”

She nods, pats his head and moves out of the room, closing the door behind her. “I like your mom,” David tells Clary after a moment, putting the juice to the side to continuing to dig around in his bag.

“Thanks. Now, let’s see. I’ve found at least 400 articles about all the people that you told me, plus a couple of people that are connected. I also found articles about the bill that this Catharine was part of creating,” Clary says, watching David put CD cases out onto the table. “I also found lots of news bits and what not on the people, as I’m sure you remember.”

David nods and settles back into the chair, sipping his juice again. Looking between them, he sighs and relaxes wondering how to express his gratitude for the work they did.

“Thank you, Clary, Mitchell,” he says softly, figuring that it would be a good place to start. “If you guys need something that I can help with, ask me, alright?” he suggests, blushing softly at the look that he caught on Mitchell’s face. It made him a bit nervous, but he pushed it aside for the time being.

“So, to move on to easier and more delightful topics, how’re Markus and Edward? I noticed that you haven’t been hanging out with them, or that they’ve come back around since that one time,” Clary asks, curious about that.

“Markus caught a stomach bug and Edward is staying home to take care of him. Their mother works for most of the day, so they are stuck out of school until Markus gets better,” David says, shrugging. “Edward pops up at the school to gather their work and what not, though.”

For the next hour, the three chatted and played, forgetting about the flash drives and CDs in David’s backpack. David and Mitchell left after diner, both of them being picked up by someone. Clary turned to putting away his game station and brushed off the dark feeling of dread, never noticing that one of his computers was running a specialized search all on its lonesome.


Thanks go to my betas/editors, BK and Mattias. Thank you both. I bow to your power to make me write better.
Now...quick review response.
Peeps, my dear, I love it when I get a review from you. You seem to make me happy with just a few words.
I'm glad you like my story and what I've written so far. I'm starting to introduce elements that will take it into a new...light if you will, so I hope that you will continue to read.
I hope to keep hearing from you.

And the one person who has reviewed my One Shots, Sal, dearest, 'Finding Someone' will probably be continued, but at such a time when I'm not swamped with stories to write. *hugs*