Inquiry is the heartbeat of dialogue. A monologue answers, while a dialogue asks. A monologue is as narrow as the mind, but a dialogue reaches as far as infinity, or the square root of two.

This chapter has no definite name. Since this novel is structured for later publication, I'd prefer a chapter name. If any of you have suggestions after reading it I'd love that!

CHAPTER EIGHT: A Beacon

I chewed on the corner of the pen in my hands and squinted at the print on the pink sheet of paper in front of me. My neat handwriting, filling the blanks on the page, showed signs of my trembling hand.

I sighed and got up.

Ding. Hesitatingly, I tapped the bell on the counter. The secretary’s smiling face appeared.

“All finished there?” At my nod, she went on. “Nicole will be with you shortly.” She smiled again.

“Ah, okay,” I stuttered, faintly.

By a lonely road stands a lonely light,
‘Neath the clouded full moon above.
A dismal stretch of a country path,
Devoid of warmth and love.
A traveler stands on the lonely road,
Looking both to the left and the right,
And turns to walk down the lonely road,
Lit by the lonely light.
Houses full of Christmas cheer,
Windows glow warmly within,
But the shutter is closed, the curtains are drawn,
And no one invites him in.
As he reaches a fork in the lonely road,
A lantern’s light draws his eye.

Sioned was growing tired of the life she had chosen.

The history of Western civilization has seen major shifts in its major worldviews - from Christianity and other theisms, to humanism and beyond. It can be said that "Every cultural expression communicates worldview ideas," (Prof. John Stonestreet) and as a cultural expression, poetry communicates the ideas of its poets and the times they lived in.

One such idea is that of religious faith, faith in theism. Among others, this faith may be approached with a sort of 'blind faith,' confident in its Divine Revelation alone.

Four years had passed.
He had seen the trees change from white to green to red to black and all over again four times. He couldn’t believe how long it had been since the day the Yīnyǐng had separated them all. He had seen the change of what parts of the world they had travelled together, thoroughly worried by it all. Things changed so drastically wherever they turned that he was sure he woke up in a different world every morning.

If there was one thing about living alone I detested, it was the silence.

It was deafening.

There were days that I would turn on the air conditioner, just to hear it run. I mean, to be honest, one needs air conditioning almost year-round in Texas. That’s if you can afford it.

Prologue
He had known it would come and had prepared. There was nothing truly worrisome that they could do to him. Still, it was always good to take precautions. He was glad he did, as he looked down at the chaos below. It was chilling, seeing what the Scrubs were capable of. It was so defiant of what he had always been told, of what he always knew.

The wraiths took to the walls, melting with the shadows of the obsidian. They moved with the grain of the stone, with no one’s noticing them. They were clothed in what seemed to be shadow, as well. The soft black fabric of their suits had no seam, and their contrast with the walls was non-existent as they expertly and silently scaled the thick barricade that stood between them and their targets.
After all, the Yīnyǐng were known to be silent and invisible.