Of Saints and Sacred Shadows by Jason Dean

Author:Jason Dean [Dean, Jason]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781468908992
Publisher: Booktango
Published: 2012-08-02T00:00:00+00:00

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Accompanied by a constant, underlying whisper of static, decades old songs emanated out of the radio in the kitchen, bringing with them the heat from the ovens and grill that was only slightly tempered by the nearly non-existent breeze coming in through the pair of windows at the front of the roadside diner Sebastian decided to stop at on their way back to Los Angeles. Lina shivered despite the heat, trembling from the inside out as she closed her eyes to focus and try to force it all away, finding herself only able to hide it slightly when she gripped the sides of her uneaten bowl of vegetable soup with both hands. It had long since cooled enough to eat, but she still hadn’t taken a bite, only staring at it periodically without hunger, using it as a bland distraction, a reason not to look at anyone or anything directly.

“It’s difficult sometimes.”

He spoke softly, his words sounding as if they traveled a great distance to reach her, losing all meaning along the way but still managing to pull her out of the unintentional daze she’d fallen into.

“…What?” she replied.

“When you’re in the middle of it,” he continued, staring at her from across the table in a booth in the back of the diner, “your heart is beating so fast and nothing seems real. It’s difficult to comprehend exactly what’s going on, the implications that arise because of it. But when it’s quiet, when you’ve had time to step away and think about things, that’s when it hits you; that’s when you realize everything you thought couldn’t possibly be real actually is. It’s not easy to deal with for anyone. You’re in shock, which is why you’re cold, why you’re shivering when you shouldn’t be, why you can’t seem to focus on any one thought or emotion for too long. It’ll pass…hopefully.”

“Hopefully?” she said, disappointedly surprised at the lack of encouraging words. Sebastian had returned to his normal, if it could ever be considered so, detached self, only briefly staggered by circumstances, now having recovered with his penetrative gaze and quiet, serene demeanor intact.

“Some people,” he explained, “never recover after going through any one of the things you’ve experienced in the past few days. Some people find their mind to split apart; others try to forget everything, pretend it never happened while they slowly crumble inside. Everybody’s different. Time will tell how you handle it.”

“Is it hard for you?” she asked.

“No,” he answered without thought or emotion, without softening his reply or explaining it away as a product of experience she didn’t have or just chalking it up to having a jaded mentality.

“That makes me feel better,” she sighed, her shoulders sagging with every recurring thought of Julianna, of what she was, what she became, the horrible, improbable things that came out of her mouth.

“You have to understand, Lina, I’m not like you. The world I live in is a lot different than yours, and it’s all I’ve ever known.

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