The Curse of 1977 (Book 2)

Like so much garbage, Charles was tossed into the pit-like dungeon in his sleeveless undershirt and boxers.
Confused, the man looked through the small peephole to see the guards turning away and laughing as they happily marched out
of sight. He then turned back around to find himself surrounded by wolves, wolves of varying colors, from all black to all white
and mixed shades. They all remained perfectly docile as they plodded around the equally calm man that saw fit to only stand
perfectly still in place.
As Charles began to shuffle amongst the pack he suddenly heard something that resembled someone speaking. He gawked all
around before an old, Middle-Eastern man came waddling out of the shadows within the dungeon. He was a raggedy looking
fellow from head to toe. His grey, scraggly beard drew down past his chin.
"I am here because of the king, my dear friend." The old man said as he approached Charles.
Charles stood and watched as the old man stepped up to him. "Who is the king?" Mercer asked.
The old man looked dismayed as he opened his mouth and replied, "I would not praise his gods, so here must I die, with the
beasts."
Charles stared oddly at the old man for a few moments before another figure emerged from the shadows. The figure had the
brightest eyes that Charles had ever seen. They were so bright in fact that the man had to squint just to shield his vision from
them. Much like the old man, the bright-eyed individual was wearing tattered clothing; a brown cloth-like material that covered
only their body with nothing protecting their feet.
The closer the person came the more Charles could make out a face behind the eyes. The face was that of his son's. But rather
than light up with gleeful enthusiasm, Charles just stood still and stared at his child with a most mystified glare.
"Son, what happened to you?" His voice cracked.
Placing his hand on his father's left shoulder, Isaac calmly said, "I am here because of the king, dad."
"These beasts were to devour us, but the Lord has spared our very lives." The old man humbly smiled. "Praise be to God in
heaven."
But Charles was neither impressed with the familiar old man or the wolves that circled him. He just wanted to keep his eyes on
his son for as long as he could without the brightness blinding him too severely.

Isaac withdrew his hand from his father's shoulder before turning and pacing around the wolves.
"I am here because of the king." Isaac uttered in a downcast tone.
"Boy...what were you up to?" Charles' heart began to beat out of pace. "What on earth were you doing to end up like this?"
"Perhaps he should have bought that dog." A slick voice spoke behind Charles.
Charles spun around to see a black-furred wolf actually standing behind him on two feet. It was only five inches taller than
Charles, and yet as jolting as it should have appeared, the man was completely unfazed by the sight.
He turned back to see both Isaac and the old man drop to their knees and begin to pray out loud in unison, "The king put us
here! Very soon, we will see the king again!"
In subtle awe, Charles stood in front of the wolf and watched as his boy and the age-old prophet lifted praises to the heavens
above.
"What were you doing in this world, son?" He desperately whispered.
"Fear not for Isaac," the wolf behind him patted Charles on the shoulders, "his time in hell will be short lived."
Isaac then got up from off his knees, approached his father and whispered directly into his face, "Tell mama I'm sorry."
Charles only grabbed Isaac by the shoulders and shook him screaming, "What were you doing, nigga?"
"Soon and very soon...we will see the king."
Charles' eyes popped right open at that very second to the soft sound of a woman singing, 'Soon and very soon we're going to
see the king.'
The top of the man's head was layered in bandages, as well as his chest and stomach which ached whenever he moved too
suddenly.
"Oh my," Audra twirled around surprised with a red and white stripped apron around her waist. "Praise the good Lord, you've
finally awakened!"
Charles stared all around the hospital room like he was on another planet. His head hurt so badly that it felt like it was about to
pop wide open.

"You should lie back down." Audra came over to his bedside. "You've been out cold for days now."
Charles looked at the woman in an almost frightened manner. He began to scoot away from her in his bed the closer she
approached him.
"No, no, I'm not here to hurt you." She gently reassured. "My name is Audra. I volunteer here at the hospital. Just wait here, and
I'll go get—
But before she could even turn, Charles caught Audra by the hand and held her as tight as he could. At first, Audra tried to free
herself, but after a moment or two she calmed down and stood still.
Charles held her as his eyes jittered and a tear dropped."What was my boy up to?" He grunted.
"Sir...I don't know your boy. I was just in here fluffing some of your pillows." She innocently remarked.
Charles continued to glare into Audra's eyes before he asked again, "What was my boy up to?"
Audra managed to release herself from Charles' hold before she rested his body back onto the bed once again.
"Now, now, just relax." She said. "We had another gentleman wake up earlier this morning before he went home to be with the
Lord not too long after." Audra patiently explained. "Don't you go and work yourself into a tizzy."
Charles was still sleepy. His eyelids felt like led weights. He kept on slipping in and out of consciousness, and yet, the last thing
he wanted was to succumb to slumber once more. He watched as Audra opened the blinds and went back to singing.
"I...I can't feel my legs." He whimpered ever so pitifully."
Audra immediately stopped singing and handed the man a compassionate frown. "Wait here...I'll get a doctor."
The very thought that he was still alive had all but escaped him. It never once registered inside his conscience.
"Where are you, my boy?" He whispered with quivering jaws. "Lord...where's my child at?"