I saw my bent wrist, held in the air, and at a sharp angle the face of my wristwatch. For a moment the digits weren’t moving, but as I looked the seconds began to tick off. I felt the flat rod pressing on my temple. Slowly, I managed to move it back. I felt the gaze of the Cyclops.

I looked out of the corner of my eye at the hard, cold metal in my hand and saw a few words, a blurry insignia, five inches away on blue steel, just above the checkered walnut grip. One word slowly came into focus.

Luger.

I gazed at the weapon, breathing shallowly. My fingernail was white as it pressed tight against the trigger. I looked at the rod that had pushed against my temple, the Cyclops staring at me—the barrel of a gun.

I smelled sulfur.

Trembling, I lowered the gun, flipped on the safety, and carefully placed the weapon on the stump.

Falling on my knees into the mud, I cried out to the Audience of One. “My King—thank you for your grace; help me, please. I can’t do this without you.”

I thanked him that as hard as what lay before me was, he would be with me. I asked that he would help me find chasm-crossers to walk with me on the homeward road, for I knew I could not walk it alone.

I reached to the back of my right hand and gently touched the weeping wound.

My eyes fell on something half-buried in the mud—a key ring. I picked it up. I fingered the keys to my office, my club locker, my cars, my apartment. Then I grabbed the key to our home, a key I hadn’t throw away when I’d moved out from my family.

I thought about going into the cabin to dry off and clean up. Instead, I ran to my truck. I had to get home.

Home? My true home was a place I’d not yet set foot in. And the place I’d always been was not my home. But Marci and Amy and Brian … I had to go to them, I had to weather the dark storm over our lives. Tell them what had happened to me. Ask them to forgive me for the fool I’d been.

My body aching, I drove the truck down the muddy, red-clay road, following a long shadow. The mountain peaks pointed me upward. A black thundercloud eclipsed the sun. A shadow passed over me, and I heard the squawk of an unknown creature. Then lightning struck, and the thunderclap sounded like the roar of a lion. I rolled down the window, fresh rain blowing on my face, and heard in the wind two foreign tongues, one sweet and sacred, the other foul and coarse.

How long before I will hear them no longer and, still worse, imagine I never heard them at all?