• Many years ago many of my family; the fathers, the sons, the grandfathers, all fought and died for the Kaliko.
    I laid flowers on the gravestones and I prayed to the great god that he might watch over them as they travel to the other realm.
    But no matter how many flowers I lay it could not bring them back from deaths grip. I hold tears in my eyes and ask myself “Why did the Kaliko choose them to die? Is the Kaliko worth dying for?”
    It has been four years since I’ve laid the first flower on the gravestone of my father. I have failed to live by the teachings that he has taught me. I had never sworn by the Kaliko. I had kept myself pure for the Kaliko. I had honored the women, the highest being in the Kaliko’s eyes.
    But weakness over took me when my world crashed down.
    When sunset came on the day after the battle of Kaliko my friend Heather waited with open eyes as the men of our tribe who had lived through the fight returned. Both she and I wept for joy when her beloved came over the hill. I hated the feeling of her leaving my arms but I only wanted her to smile so I didn’t object. But her beloved, Kuza, was changed by the war and became hard and bitter. He no longer cared for Heather, as she should have been cared for. He began to use her more and more. I tried to point this out to her but she spat in my face and told me I was a coward for not going to war. Shame cut me deep at those words but an even stronger viper bit me then. I felt betrayed. None could tell my devotion to Sarah, and yet in the blink of an eye I was overridden. And yet she was happy. So I smiled for her.
    The annulling of my courting with Karca farther disheartened me. But I could not repair the damage done. She had beaten me and yelled in rage. I am not a physically strong man. I wanted nothing but her love. So I did nothing but take it. But one can only take so much.
    Grief wrought my body and mind for days. I had devotion for the passing stranger so that I may have some hint of devotion.
    In same end of ill fate my lips touched the bottle. The coarse vile drink passed through my body blocking out the day.
    I began to buy it with all the money I had, for, I was somewhat blessed in the acquiring of a sizable portion when my father passed from this earth.
    In my drunken haze the world no longer turned and there was no recollection of the sight of my father being lowered into the hungry earth. I could not see my mother’s gravestone next to his. And Heather and Karca’s faces and actions were lifted.
    My next crime against the Kaliko was lust. Whether by my drunken state or my insane thirst for affection I began to lay with women, rarely knowing their name, only the feel of their flesh.
    I was falling fast and I cared not for I was past the state of seeing good in the world.
    In my darkest hour’s I began to scream unto the Kaliko to save me from the world of emptiness.
    I never had a response.
    So as by all things that come from evil my money wasted away quickly. No tavern keep would give their best customer a drink for free, and no women would lie without a glint of gold. I stole a knife from the kitchen of a tavern and crawled back to the pathetic site of my village.
    As I crossed over to the grave of my father I screamed one last time for the Kaliko to save me.
    All I could hear was the echo of my cry across the barren ground.
    I placed the knife over my heart and tried to build up the courage to end my life.
    In my last flash of pain, I remembered the nights of lust without meaning, the vile feeling as the berries of the Lomata spilled from the bottle and filled my veins.
    I couldn’t hold the knife steady for my grief. I began to weep. With an inhuman roar I dropped the knife and lay on my father’s grave clenching his wilted flowers washing away the dust with my tears.
    I don’t know how long I laid before I felt the smooth hand upon my shoulder. Upon turning I looked upon the face of an angel.
    “My name is Kala. I heard you screaming in pain. What is your name, how can I help you?”
    I failed my hands around my face dumbly.
    “John, my name is John.”
    She reached down and touched my cheek.
    “I’m not but a human John. I can’t make your past go away. But I’m going to care of you.”
    As she supported my weight we walked back towards her house in the village where I grew up in.
    A light I can never retrace filled my soul when I read the tear soaked words of my father’s grave.

    Johnathan Skyheart
    1589- 1634 A.O.
    For I shall lay down my life,
    for the Kaliko.
    For I shall teach my sons the way,
    of the Kaliko.
    I shall pray all of my days
    to the Kaliko.
    For when sin and grief bar my way
    I shall find the miracle with no name but,
    The Redemption of the Kaliko