"What now?" Brandy asked with a sideways glance at the cat.

"How about checking out that village," he said, nodding towards a collection of wood huts that they hadn't noticed before. 

"Maybe they have something to eat," Brandy suggested as her stomach growled loudly.

They proceeded warily, approaching slowly. At first there didn't seem to be anyone around, but as they passed the first house, several people wearing long tan robes came towards them, hoods pulled up and covering their faces. several peasant-looking people gathered behind them, watching curiously.

"Approach and be welcome," a man's sonorous voice said from behind one of the hoods.

"Be welcome in the House of the Lord," a woman's voice followed.

"Come make yourselves comfortable," a third person said, "please accept food and drink."

"Yes," another cowled woman agreed, "you look weary and hungry."

The robed figures stepped back in unison to form an aisle that lead towards a large stone cathedral. It looked distinctly out of place amid the poor wooden shacks. But the tall arched doors were open, and the robed strangers welcomed them inside without question. 

They were led to a wide, comfortable room with wood paneling, and large comfortable couches and chairs. A warming fire crackled merrily in the fireplace at one end. They were ensconced side by side on an orange couch that was made of solid wood, and so comfortable that they thought they might fall asleep on it. Warm oven-fresh bread and cups of crystal clear water were brought to them.

"Thank you very much," both of them told their robed hosts.

"You are welcome to anything that we can provide," a woman said as she threw back her cowl.

She was an older woman, slender and pretty, with long white hair that fell in waves down her back. Her smile was immediately comforting, putting both of them at ease. Around her neck she wore a thick silver necklace on which hung a large silver crucifix, complete with a lifelike figure of Jesus nailed to it.

"My name is Mother Mary," she said in a soothing voice, "what else may we get for you?"

Joshua had just taken a slice of bread, and was chewing before he answered, "we're looking for my mother," and he proceeded to describe her.

"Yes," Mother Mary nodded, "your mother has been here."

"Really?" he was excited now, dropping his bread on the floor, "where is she?"

"She has already gone," the woman said simply.

"Where did she go?"

"I'm afraid I couldn't tell you that," she smiled indulgently.

"Why not?" Brandy asked.

Mother Mary took a deep breath and folded her hands in her lap. "We must learn to accept things as they are, not as we wish them to be."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Joshua scoffed.

"Your mother is gone. You must come to accept that."

"So, what," he asked, "I'm just supposed to sit here and not try to find her?"

"Precisely."

"I thought you were all about offering help."

"Oh, absolutely," she nodded, "but that is something that's just not good for you, and thus it would not be helping you at all."

"Not good for me? How is finding my mother not good for me?"

"We must learn to let go. He has a plan for us, and we must learn to accept what He does."

"She's not dead," he shouted, "she's lost, and I need to find her."

"How do you know?" the woman asked simply.

"How do I know what? That she's not dead? because I saw her," he sneered. "That she's lost? Because I can't find her. What kind of question is that?"

"How do you know she's lost? Perhaps she is precisely where she wants to be. And if she is lost, then how do you know that she wants to be found? Either way, it is His will."

"Okay fine," Brandy said, taking a last gulp of water, "thank you for your hospitality."

"You're quite welcome dear. Tell me, have you accepted Jesus into your heart?"

"Yes I have," she replied, brandishing the small cross necklace she wore as she stood.

"What about you young man?"

"I'm not Christian," he told her honestly, "I am Wiccan."

Mother Mary's eyes flew open wide, "you've fallen for Satan's evil deceptions!"

"Here we go," he sighed, "yes, I know you think that I'm going to Hell. But I don't believe in hell, so how could I go there?"

"Blasphemy," the woman breathed, "heresy."

"Do you want your bread and water back now?" he asked sarcastically.

"No, of course not. Those were gifts freely given."

"Then what do you want from me?"

"We only want what is best for you," she said as it were obvious.

"And you think it's best for me to not choose my own beliefs? And it's best for me to not look for my own mother? Is that what's best for me?" he was getting truly angry now.

"Of course it is dear," she smiled benevolently.

"You make me sick," he spat venomously, "I'll be leaving now."

"Oh my dear boy," she shook her head sadly, "you haven't accepted Him yet."

Suddenly there were a dozen robed figures blocking the doorway. They weren't being threatening or acting aggressively, but they were blocking the only exit from the room. He stood and walked towards the door, but the figures stood firm, keeping him from leaving.

"Look," he pointed at the man out front," I don't want to hurt you, but I am leaving here one way or another. If that means that I have to move you out of the way, then that's what I'll do," his eyes blazed with anger and determination.

"We will move you," Brandy corrected, stepping up beside him.

"Tha's righ'," Barny added, speaking for the first time, "we'll kick yer knickers righ' off."

"Demon!" the man at the head of the group screamed, holding his arms out to protect the others.

"'At's righ'. Ye still wanna keep us 'ere?"

"Stay back," Mother Mary shouted, one hand on her chest, "don't let the demon touch you!"

And so they walked out of the front door, the robed zealots backing away from them as they went. The group continued to shadow them as they made their way through the village, often calling to peasants to stand back from the group of tainted heathens and their demon familiar.

"Thank you Barney," Joshua said with a big smile on his face.

"My pleasure," the cat returned smugly.

On the other side of the village was a field of trash. It was literally piles of litter and broken things, some mounds rising ten feet or more. They couldn't see far because of the mounds; only garbage and junk wherever they looked.

"This must be where they throw all of their 'demonic' stuff," Joshua quipped.

"We should feel righ' a' home then," the cat agreed.

"Those people were ridiculous," Brandy fumed, "thinking they know what's best for everybody."

"I'm used to it," Joshua said dismissively, "it's just part of being non-Christian."

"Well it shouldn't be," she insisted, giving him a hug, "you can believe anything you want."

"Thanks sis," he hugged her back.

"Righ' then," the cat flicked his tail, "now tha's over, can we move on?"

"Sure Barney."

They picked their way through the debris as carefully as they could, but there were no real paths or trails to follow. Joshua led the way, moving things out of the way for the others to follow more easily. It didn't matter to Barney at all. Half the time he was scampering along on top of something or other, or was crawling underneath things.

"Hey," Joshua stopped, "Mom used to have this," he held up a small impressionist picture of a killer whale under the ocean. It was labeled, Blackfish In Time, written lightly at the bottom, "I bought it for her when I was a teenager."

"What would it be doing here?" Brandy asked.

"I have no idea. I loved this picture, and so did she. It was hanging in her bathroom last time I saw it."

"Look at this," she grabbed a porcelain nurse cat figurine, "I gave her this last year."

"She wouldn't have thrown these out," Joshua said in confusion.

"No she wouldn't," Brandy agreed, "I think she kept everything she was ever given."

A little farther on he found another one, "Rebecca made this medicine bag for her years ago. She cherished this." It was a small beaded bag with a turtle patterned into it.

"What does it mean?"

"It means tha' it's all jus' stuff. Where ya thin' it'll end up 'en she's gone?"

"Maybe," he allowed, "but I don't think so."

It took them awhile to pick their way through the rubbish hills, but they finally did. They found several other things along the way that had belonged to his mother, and they picked it all up with the intention of returning it to her once they caught her up.

There was another stone wall at the edge of the field, and a fancy pair of glass doors faced them, though they were unable to see inside. They walked up and knocked on the doors, but there was no reply. There was no doorbell or knocker evident, so they knocked again, louder this time.

Finally Brandy grabbed a handle and pulled the door open. They were immediately hit by a tidal wave of loud music and the smell of incense. There were cloth streamers hanging from the ceiling to create a curtain that blocked sight any farther into the building.

Will the faithful be rewarded when we come into the end? Will I miss the final warning from the lie that I have lived?

"I love this song," Joshua said as they pushed through they curtain.

Is there anybody calling? I can see the soul within, and I am not worthy; I am not worthy of this.

Brandy looked curiously at him, "I wouldn't have pegged you for a Breaking Benjamin fan."

Are you with me after all? Why can't I hear you? Are you with me through it all? Then why can't I feel you?

"I like a lot of different kinds of music."

Stay with me don't let me go, because there's nothing left at all. Stay with me don't let me go, until the ashes of Eden fall.

The ballroom they stepped in to was mesmerizing. Gauzy cloth covered the walls and ceiling, tied with silk bows and ribbons. Wrought iron sconces spaced along the walls held smokeless candles that cast flickering light and shadows upon the crowded room's occupants.

The dance floor was full of people in extremely elaborate costumes. There were Victorian men and women, several disgustingly detailed zombie costumes, ghosts and goblins, even a Death costume complete with a scythe. There was a two-person horse costume and a group dressed in pirate regalia, complete with wenches. One and all they were dancing to the music. It was a dizzying display of color and texture.

Will the darkness fall upon me, when the air is growing thin? Will the light begin to pull me, to it's everlasting will? 

A beautiful Victorian woman in petticoats and heels approached, holding a hand out to Joshua as she swayed seductively with the music, her lovely smile underneath her lace mask making it hard to resist her invitation.

I can hear the voices haunting, there is nothing left to fear, and I am still calling; I am still calling to you.

At the same time, a tall dark-haired man in the black pirate outfit held a hand out to Brandy. He was ruggedly handsome, and his leather mask was made to incorporate an eyepatch with the skull and crossbones emblem on it.

Are you with me after all? Why can't I hear you? Are you with me through it all? Then why can't I feel you?

"I'm looking for my mother," Joshua half yelled to be heard over the music, "have you seen her?" The pretty woman laughed and shook her head, still pulling him to the dance floor.

Stay with me don't let me go, because there's nothing left at all. Stay with me don't let me go, until the ashes of Eden fall.

Joshua's head spun as the beautiful girl swung him around the dance floor. Her hands clung to his neck, and her smile seemed to dominate his vision. Her eyes sparkled with mirth and enjoyment as she leaned in and held him close, laughing lightly in his ear.

It seemed an eternity that he held her close, dancing and laughing with her. It was as if that was all that there had ever been. He thought for a brief moment that this was what true happiness must be. No worries, no cares, just fun and laughter.

A flash of curly white hair jolted him from his reverie. He tried to disentangle himself from his dance partner and step away from her, but she grabbed onto his arms.

"Where are you going?" she asked sweetly, "we're not finished dancing."

"I've got to go," he explained, still trying in vain to disengage himself.

"You wouldn't leave me here all alone, would you?' her look was so heartbroken that a tear escaped her eye and rolled sadly down her cheek.

"Uh... of course not," a plan was slowly forming in his addled brain. "Let's dance."

With a squeal of delight, the woman was swept up into a spin that carried them across the dance floor. As long as you were dancing, nobody ever seemed to get in your way. It was amazing to watch. But he still couldn't see his mother. Not paying attention to his partner, he kept twirling her in the direction he thought he'd seen her going.

"Slow down sweetie," she gasped just as he saw the white hair that he was looking for near the far wall, moving away from him . 

"You're not getting tired, are you?" he chided breathlessly, then took her off again.

"Oh my," she squeaked, but kept up with his frantic pace.

Another song began playing, this one a little slower than the last. The dancing slowed it's pace to match the music around them, and his dance partner pulled him to a stop and stared up into his eyes, tears welling up in her eyes.

"I'm sorry to hear about your mother," she said, pulling him into a hug. 

I lie awake, watching you run through my head. I'm alone again, but not for long my friend.

"What?" Joshua was confused by the sudden change, "what do you mean?"

We face another day, the distance has come and taken you far away again. But I'll see you soon my friend. And then I'll sing you my song.

"I'm sorry about your loss," a strange man in a mummy costume said, putting a hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

"I'm sorry, what?" he turned to see who it was, but the mummy was lost in the crowd,

I can't, go home alone again. No I can't, my friend, until then.

"It's too bad about your mom," a woman said behind him.

"You'll be alright, my boy."

He was turning around and around as he sought the sources of the expressions of sympathy for his mother that he knew was still alive. Why was everyone consoling him? Did everyone here know her? It was all very disconcerting.

And now he head lost track of her again.

Eyes I recognize, taking me back, familiar to me from some other time. Or maybe another life.

"I'm sorry for your loss," a Victorian-dressed man said, then disappeared into the crowd.

"Always remember the good times," an elderly-sounding woman said.

Remember out times and know who I am. The memory stays, until we can breathe as one again.

"I'm so sorry son."

And I'm coming back my friend. And then I'll sing you my song.

"You're in out thoughts and prayers."

He was surrounded by tightly-packed bodies, all seeming to want to offer him condolences. He couldn't move from the press of people on him. Angels and devils, priests and zombies, all crushing the life out of him as he struggled to escape.

And I can't, go home alone again. No I can't, go home alone again. No I can't, my friend, until then.

He couldn't breathe. He reached out with his arms, but could only move them upwards, blindly seeking something to help pull him out of the mass of people. They were pressing and pushing, touching and hugging, all sorry for the loss that hadn't happened. Why couldn't they understand that? Why couldn't they just leave him alone?