Blood On Winter Snows

It was a few moments before Bruce spoke in a guarded tone. “Back when I was growing up in Fostoria, my Granny told stories of a legendary clan called Theta.” The sarcasm contemptuously noted by both majors sent an icy emotion spinning into his thoughts’ deepest depths. Leaning back in the uncomfortable wooden chair, he studied them while talking. His forehead became pinched when realizing it wasn’t the chair causing his discomfort but these two majors. “Those words reek of desecrated deeds associated with infidel sorcery.”

The male major asked. “And do you believe in sorcery?”

“Not particularly.”

“Could you accept sorcery in our modern society?” the woman asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

Bruce knew it was best to cautiously compose his replies. “Granny spun stories about demons and evil-minded creatures from beyond the grave. Made the hairs on my neck stand up. They all seemed to come alive with her telling. That’s cause Granny was a damned good storyteller. She also told of a good doer clan named Theta. But that’s all they were, just stories to amuse me. Being poor dirt farmers back in Ohio there wasn’t much to amuse us. Especially during winter when there weren’t no crops to tend. But if you’re asking if I believe in ghosts aimlessly wandering about cemeteries at night, the reply is no.”

Bruce didn’t look about when something cold brushed his arm in passing. There were only three people in this room. Bruce felt strong vibrations of another being. This was downright stupid he angrily told himself. Get hold of your imagination he warned himself. All of this time he was unaware the woman was reading his thoughts with suppressed amusement.

“Don’t you find it unusual Granny spoke of Theta in such a positive attitude?”  The male major’s voice became colder. “You just signed on with a clan named Theta.”

Bruce shrugged. “Granny’s stories were of another Theta in another time. Her Theta roamed the earth when demons fought one another and terrorized mortals. This is 1942. Such things don’t happen anymore, if they ever did at all?”

There was a short period while the majors reevaluated their opinion of this man.  “Do you know what discarnation is?” the woman asked.

Bruce guardedly shrugged. “Granny often spoke of it.”

The male wasn’t cordial when asking. “I suppose you don’t believe in discarnation either?”

Bruce found it hard not to chuckle. “The idea of one’s spirit fluttering from his body into another doesn’t sound logical.” Their harden facial expressions never softened. “My Bible classes never taught such things.”

“You place great faith in what your church preached?” the woman asked.

“Yeah, why not?”

“Did your Granny place great faith in those same teachings?” the man asked.

“Sometimes. Pappy used to get angry with her. Said she picked out what she wanted to believe and threw the rest away.”

“Many people do that,” the woman reminded with a soft grin.

Without thinking Bruce curtly charged. “I doubt if many people read what’s in this folder?”