The Call

Khanethael

“And the Lord came and stood, and called as at other times, Samuel, Samuel. Then Samuel answered, ‘Speak, for thy servant heareth,’” Yukki read from the 3rd chapter of the book of Samuel. “Then the Lord said unto Samuel, Behold, I will do a thing in Israel, whereof whosoever shall hear, his two ears shall tingle.” She stopped reading at the end of the section and looked at her mother, whose face stared down at her daughter in eager expectation. “The word of God for the people of God,” Yukki said.

“Thanks be to God,” her mother responded, satisfied by the addition. Yukki closed the family Bible and set it on the coffee table before her. She sat on the couch next to her mother. Both were wearing “casual attire,” which meant very different styles. Serana wore much the same as she did outside, only removing the cloth from her face, but still a full Niqab by most standards. Yukki, on the other hand, had stripped off so much clothing that she was on the edge of indecent. Both her arms were up to her shoulder, her legs halfway up her thighs, and even her stomach was exposed. Her hair was unstyled and hung around her head freely, restrained just enough to keep it out of her face. In a reclining chair next to the couch sat, or rather lay, Samson with Pearl, the family dog, on his lap. He patted her head as the full-grown Central Asian Shepherd happily wagged her tail.

“Now, what can we learn from this section of scripture?” Serana questions with an expectant look in her eyes.

“It doesn't matter what we first do when God calls us because he’ll call us again as many times as needed until we answer,” Yukki says confidently. At her daughter’s words, the joy fades from Serena’s eyes, and she turns to her husband instead.

“Don’t look at me,” he says, not looking up from the dog. “This is supposed to be a mother-daughter Bible study. I’m just a man enjoying the company of his dog.” Serana sighs before turning back to her daughter.

“It’s unwise not to heed the call of the Lord; we should at all times strive to answer when he calls. Here, Samuel was merely unaware of who was calling him, but still answered when called,” she explained.

“But what about Jona?” Yukki asked. “He was a prophet and flatly refused to answer God’s command and even did the opposite. Then he-”

“No, no, this isn’t the same thing,” Serana says, shaking her head. “We’re discussing the time of Judges, not the exile.” Yukki looks down, defeated by her mother’s words.

“If I might interject,” Samson says, removing Pearl from his lap and reaching for the Bible Yukki had put down earlier. “Let’s see the gospel of Luke… No, not the shepherds, near the end,” he mutters, flipping through the book before settling on his desired page. “ The Gospel according to Luke chapter 22 starting at verse….” he says, his voice trailing off as if making up his mind. “Ehh, we’ll start at 60, ‘And Peter said, Man, I know not what thou sayest. And immediately while he spoke, the cock crew. Then the Lord turned back and looked upon Peter: and Peter remembered the word of the Lord, how he had said unto him, Before the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice. And Peter went out and wept bitterly.’ The word of God for the people of God,” he says, finishing the passage.

“Thanks be to God,” Yukki and her mother reply.

“So here, just like Samuel, we see Peter not just fail to respond to the Lord’s calling but actively deny him out of fear for his own life. A far worse offense, wouldn’t you say?” Both women nod in response. “And yet, like Samuel, God still uses Peter as a foundation for a radical change in his presence on the earth. Samuel was instrumental in establishing the kingship of Israel by appointing Saul as its first king. Peter was appointed the first Pope and the cornerstone of the new church. Both despite the fact that they failed in their initial calling.” He takes a moment to look at both to make sure they’re properly absorbing his words before continuing. “We can apply this to our own lives today by recognizing when God calls us so we don’t make the same mistakes as Samuel and Peter, while still holding fast that God won’t abandon us if and when we make mistakes. No mere man has ever had a fully straight and faithful walk with God, our family, least of all.” He turns to Yukki and grins ever so slightly. “Take your mother’s path to God. She was born into a devout Muslim household. She was converted by some unqualified rando with no clerical training, no experience preaching, and whose only claim to divine authority was the fact that he had the only Bible for hundreds of miles.” Serana’s face turns ever colder at her husband's retelling.

“Have you forgotten that you were that ‘unqualified rando,’ my dear husband?” she says, barely concealing her displeasure with a smile.

“That just makes it worse,” he says, chuckling. “More than 20 years later, I still wouldn’t choose myself to preach to you. But I guess that says a lot more about my estimation of myself than it does God.” He places the Bible back in its spot of prominence on the table and relaxes back in his chair. “I think that’s enough Bible study for one night. It's been a long day, and I don't know about the two of you, but I'm worn out,” he says, turning to his wife. “Would you be a dear and go get our bed ready, darling?”

“Of course, my dear husband,” Serana says, rising from her seat and heading upstairs, leaving Yukki and her father alone. Yukki releases a sigh and relaxes her posture once her mother is out of sight.

“Oh, don’t be like that; she’s not that exhausting.” Her father says.

“Of course, you’d say that,” Yukki jeers. “You’re the one that saw her and thought, ‘Man, I’ve gotta put a ring on her.’ The only thing stranger than that is her actually agreeing to it.” The pair laughs at her joke, and the air feels much more relaxed. “Why does she have to be like that?” she asks half-jokingly.

“Oh, Yukki,” Samson says, shaking his head. *bap bap* he taps his lap twice, looking at her.

“Papa, I’m a little big to be lectured while sitting in your lap,” she protests.

“First of all, it’s not a lecture,” he states sternly. “Second of all, if my lap is big enough for the 110 lb bear you brought home, it’s big enough for 85 lb you. Third of all, stop being a rebellious preteen for 5 minutes and be my little girl.” He pats his leg again, harder this time, and she relents, moving from the couch to her father’s lap. It’s still warm from when Pearl was lying on him, and he pulls her into a gentle side hug. For a moment, the pair just sits, taking deep breaths and settling into place. Finally, Samson speaks, saying, “Yukki, you know your mother loves you more than anyone else, right?”

“Not gonna place yourself in the running?” she jests.

“Oh, I’ve long since learned my place,” he retorts. “Now, for most parents, if you asked them which child they love most, they’d say something like ‘Oh, how could you ask me that,’ or ‘I love all my children equally, I could never choose,’ or something to that effect. But I don't think that’s the case for your mother. Don't tell your brother, but I’m 80-85% sure it’s you by a margin while your brother and I are racing for second place.”

“What’s the deciding factor for who’s in second?”

“How long it’s been since either of us has done something funny that tickled her off, but that’s not important. What’s important is that because she loves you more than anyone else in the world today, she feels she has to do everything she can to ensure you become the best, most amazing woman you can possibly be.”

“So, in other words,” Yukki laments. “She has to make me into her?”

“That’s… Not entirely incorrect,” Samson says, scratching his head and choosing his words very carefully. “I do believe the world would be a much better place if more women were like her, but not exactly like her. See, dear, the biggest problem is that her idea of what a woman is and should strive to be was framed by her childhood in a Stone Age African village. When I was there, I saw how they treated the women just better than the cows, but not quite as nicely as the dogs.”

“Ohio sounds like a horrible place to live,” Yukki says with a straight face. Her father busts out laughing uncontrollably at his daughter’s joke.

“Okay, that was perfect timing, but I’m trying to be serious here, and this is actually part of the point I’m getting to,” he says, regaining his composure. “Now, that upbringing instilled the idea that women are mothers and wives and nothing else in her. And despite living in Japan for more than 20 years, the idea that any woman could aspire to be anything other than what she is, let alone her own daughter, is…,” his voice trails off as if contemplating the best word before making up his mind. “Unthinkable, which begins our debacle. As much as she may wish it not to be, you’re just as much my daughter as you are hers, and it seems, from my perspective anyway, that the more she tries to mold you into her, the more like me you become.”

“Well, isn’t that just the worst of both worlds?” Yukki says, half joking.

“Indeed, which is why I’ll need your help on something.” Yukki eagerly looks at her father, awaiting his proposition. “I need you to go along with your mother’s wishes for the time being while I start planting seeds that, maybe, just maybe, her method isn’t the best way to raise you.” Yukki’s eager grin fades, replaced with a disappointed frown.

“Couldn’t you just tell her to change? She’s all about being that good wife, so wouldn’t she listen to you? Wouldn’t that be faster than ‘planting seeds’ or whatever?”

“Oh, it's most definitely faster,” Samson says confidently. “But me using her devotion to being a good wife in order to stop doing something required by a good mother in her mind is just plain wrong, and I won’t do it.” His words are final and definitive, as if he were describing where the sun rises and sets. Yukki’s heart sank low, no doubt thinking that’s where the conversation would end before her father lifted her chin with his finger. “But here’s what I will do,” He says, draining the despair from Yukki’s eyes. “The long-term plan is over the next few weeks at work. When I’m talking to Uncle Asato, I offhandedly mention how you seem to be growing more every day and will need some new clothes soon. He mentions that to your Auntie Hori, who takes that as a challenge. Sooner or later, she kidnaps you for the day and brings you home with some colorful new clothes. Your mother isn’t going to just throw away nice gifts from her best friend, so you have to wear them the next time we see them, and of course, Hori will go on and on about how nice you look and ‘shouldn’t you dress more colorfully all the time?’ Slowly convincing your mother and letting you dress a little nicer.” Yukki tilted her head to the side, considering the idea. She was definitely thinking about how pleasant a kidnapping from her aunt always was, but that could take weeks if not months, and she no doubt wished for a more expedient solution.

“What about a short-term plan?” She asked, looking up at her father.

“Well, in the short term, I can go online and find a few colorful veils; I'll bring them to your mother and mention how nice it’d be if you could wear this for your solo at the Resurrection Sunday service in a few weeks, and see how she reacts. If I catch her in a good mood and phrase it right, I’m pretty sure I can convince her to let you try them, and if clothes can be worn to church, then they can be worn anywhere.”

“Can we do that?” She asked, smiling ear to ear as if the matter was as settled as could be.

“I can, but I’m worried there could be consequences,” Samson warned. “I wouldn’t want her mad at me.”

“Oh, how long can she stay mad at you?” Yukki asked, dismissing her father’s concerns. “She can hold her breath longer than she can hold a grudge.”

“Actually, I remember one time she held her breath for quite a while,” Samson says, smiling mischievously. “Like when-”

“I don't want to know!” Yukki says, raising her voice and holding a hand over her father’s mouth. “Whenever you smile like that, I know I don’t want to hear what you’re about to say.”

“Is that how I smile when I tell you it’s time for bed?” Samson asked, freeing his mouth and returning to a similar but distinctly different smile.

“Aren’t I old enough to choose my bedtime yet?” Yukki protests.

“Your mother won’t let you choose your clothes, and you think you can choose your bedtime? Get out of here,” he says, nudging Yukki off his lap. She hops off her father’s lap, and the pair stretches in sync with one another.

“Pearl, come,” Yukki calls as she heads for the stairs. The tapping of the old mutt echoes through the house as they climb the stairs, disappearing behind Yukki’s door. Stripping down to her usual sleeping attire, Yukki then puts her hair in a nightcap and climbs into bed at a leisurely pace. She is followed shortly by Pearl, snuggling next to her and resting her head near the foot of the bed. She’s just about to fall asleep when I call her.

Yukki

“Yukki,” I hear Papa call. He sounds close, but his voice is so quiet that it must be coming from the next room.

“Papa?” I call back, not wanting to get out of bed after just getting comfortable. “Papa?” I call again a bit louder when he doesn't hear me. “Ugh,” I moan, pulling off my sleep mask, tossing it on my nightstand next to my Bible, and climbing out of the comfort of my bed.

“What could it be?” I wonder as I put on more decent clothing and head to their room. Their door is open, and from outside, I see Papa changing into his pajama shirt, his back turned to the door. I knock softly, opening the door more.

“You called me?” I ask once Papa’s turned towards me. He looks at me, confused for a moment, and then shifts to a smile.

“Ahh, that's a good one, dear; love the commitment to the bit,” he says, chuckling.

“Huh?” I ask, confused.

“The whole ‘you called me’ part we just went over from Samuel. Well timed, dear, good show.”

“No, I heard you call me,” I say, even more confused.

“Well, I assure you I didn’t, so either one of us is lying, you’re hearing voices, or dementia is kicking in a lot sooner than I’d hoped,” he says, still joking. “Now, there isn’t anything we can do about the third this late at night, and nothing can be done about the first, but for the second, there is one thing,” he says, clapping his hands. “Go back to bed, and if you hear it again, just do as Samuel did and say ‘speak for your servant listens’ and skip the returning to me three times.”

“Are you sure that’s the best option right now?”

“No idea,” he says confidently. “All I know is that neither of us will want you knocking on this door in ten minutes,” he says, approaching the door. “And not just because I plan to have your mother in less clothing than you prefer to sleep in. Goodnight, love you.” He leans down to kiss my forehead and then shuts the door swiftly. I shudder at the thought of what he could mean, but push it aside by the time I return to my room. I strip back down and climb back into bed, desperately fighting for every inch of space now that Pearl’s made herself comfortable on my bed, and I lie awake.

“I heard him call for me, didn't I? ” I question, second-guessing my very senses. It sounded different from usual when he called me. It was close by yet distant at the same time, or at least I thought it was. Just as I’m placing my sleep mask back over my eyes, I hear it again.

“Yukki!” it says louder, more sternly this time. I sit up and look around the room. Though the lights are off, a thick stream of moonlight floods through the window. I definitely heard someone call my name, and it was definitely in this room. My heart rate picks up as uneasiness sweeps over me. My saving grace is Pearl, remaining completely unmoved at my side.

“Can’t be anything; Pearl would’ve noticed if it wasn’t just in my head,” I reason. But as I’m lying back down, I hear it for the third time.

“YUKKI!” it shouts, shaking me to my core. This time, Pearl lifts her head and gazes around the room as if searching for the source of the shout. Finally, I fixated on a point just above my dresser.

“Does she see something?” I wonder, peering intently in the same spot as her. As I do, I can feel a glare pierce a hole in me, like my mother caught me outside with my hair exposed. Uneasiness takes over me as I reach out for Pearl beside me, her tail wagging at my touch.

“She’s not scared. Her tail is wagging. Can’t be anything too scary,” I think, clearing my throat.

“Speak for thy s-servant is listening,” I say with as much confidence as I can muster. Suddenly, I feel the temperature in the room rise a few degrees, and light begins to shine above my dresser next to my mirror. It flashes so intensely that I have to cover my eyes.

“Be not afraid,” I hear, but once I look again, I’m terrified. Floating in my room is a figure made of wings, flapping and shifting. The wind from each beat blasts my hair back, making the light glow brighter. I see orbs and circles floating around it, and I smell the heat of a fire. It’s so terrifying, I don’t even think to scream; my voice just catapults out from my lungs unknowingly as I’m left paralyzed. Pearl jumps up at my scream and rushes closer to my side, trying to jolt me to no avail. A moment later, *CRASH* My door flings open so fast it nearly flies off the hinges, and my Papa storms in, weapon in hand.

“Yukki, Yukki, what is it!?” he yells, frantically searching for the source of my terror.

“What is it? How can you not see it?” I want to say, but my mouth won’t do anything but scream; all I can do is point at the figure floating in my room while cowering behind Pearl. My father scans and then flicks on the lights as if they aren’t already bright enough with the light from the figure. He scans again, rubbing his eyes before advancing. He moves right where I’m pointing, but never reacts to the figure right in front of him. Eventually, he sets the weapon down and comes to my side.

“Yukki, Yukki, calm down, stop screaming,” he says, grasping my shoulder and covering my mouth. Until then, I hadn’t realized it, but I’d never stopped screaming. I don't even think I took a breath, just a constant cry of terror louder than I’d ever screamed in my life. As he covers my mouth, he shifts my head to face his. When my eyes refuse to stop staring at the figure, he moves his body to block my view. “Yukki, what’s wrong?” he asks once I’ve stopped screaming.

“Ahh buba ha ahh,” Is all I manage to mumble. Words escape me, and all I can do is keep pointing at the same spot as before, where the figure remains floating.

“Yukki, sweetie, there's nothing there,” he says after looking back again.

“Nothing there? What do you mean by nothing there? Pearl reacted to it,” I try to say, but the words again come out jumbled and incoherent.

“He can’t see me,” the figure says in a voice like my Papa’s, shocking me even more. The voice pierces me to my very core, and I completely collapse. I sit in my father’s embrace, crying in terror as he calmly rocks me and strokes my hair and back, saying,

“It’s alright, you’re alright, I’m here,” until I manage to calm down enough to speak. It takes a while, but I eventually manage to explain what I see. No matter what, he can’t see the floating figure.

“Yukki, it seems like you just had a bad dream,” he says with a yawn.

“But I can still see it,” I say, still staring at the figure.

“After images, whatever you saw was so scary it seared itself into your mind, and so you’re still seeing it. It's best to ignore it and try to go back to sleep.”

“Go back to sleep? With that thing watching me?”

“Like I said, Yukki, it’s all in your head; there’s nothing there, and if there is, then it’s probably an angel or something.”

“An angel?” I question.

“Yeah, you said it told you ‘be not afraid,’ like the shepherds in the field in Luke. That’s always the first thing angels say to people when they appear to them.” I look past Papa and stare at the figure. What I think might be its head moves up and down, almost like a nod at his words.

“Could this really be an angel?” I wonder.

“What if it is an angel? What then?” I ask.

“Well, if it is an angel, then you’re gonna wanna hear what it has to say; they don’t just show up for nothing,” he says confidently before tilting his head and stroking his beard. “Well, first, you wanna make sure it’s an angel of God, not the enemy. I mean, I’ve put up so many crosses and such that no fallen angels should be able to get in here, but ya never know.”

“How would I do that?” He reaches for the Bible by my bedside and opens it. He flips through it for a moment before reaching for my phone. He makes a quick internet search before finding his desired passage.

“So, according to Paul’s 1st letter to the Corinthians chapter 12 verse 3, ‘Wherefore I give you to understand, that no man speaking by the Spirit of God, calleth Jesus accursed: and that no man can say that Jesus is the Lord, but by the Holy Ghost.’ So just demand they glorify Jesus as Lord-'' my father explains, his voice cut off by the figure behind him.

“Jesus is Lord,” the figure proclaims in a booming voice so loud I’m surprised Papa didn’t hear it.

“That Jesus is the only begotten son of the Father-”

“He was Begotten, not made,” it affirms.

“And confirm his crucifixion, death, and resurrection.”

“I myself bore witness to his undeserved suffering under Pontius Pilate, his death upon the cross, and his resurrection on the third day.” The fervor in its voice is like that of an impassioned preacher speaking before a crowd of millions.

“If you wanna be extra and maybe irritate it, then you could ask for the full Apostles and Nicene creeds as well, but I wouldn’t wanna push an angel's buttons if I meet one,” Papa says, chuckling.

“You have wasted enough time as it is; Know I affirm them in full and be done with it.” Its voice is stern and commanding, like a parent tired of a child’s misbehavior.

“Once it affirms all that, you should listen to whatever it has to say,” Papa says, smiling. “If they fail to affirm any of those, then it’s an enemy angel, and you simply hold out your cross saying, ‘I bid yee leave from here in the name of the Father, and The Son, and The Holy Spirit.’ If that doesn't work, then come sleep with me and your mom, and I’ll call an exorcist tomorrow.” He leans to get up from my bed, but I grab his hand.

“No, stay till it’s gone,” I demand. I feel a harsh glare come from the floating figure, but I ignore it and push my face against Papa’s strong hand.

“Aww, Yukki, come on,” Papa says lightly, tugging his hand away, but I don’t relent. “Weren’t you just pestering me about being old enough to choose your bedtime? Now you're frightened of the boogeyman?”

“It is rather pathetic,” the figure added. “Though in line with my expectations of the night.” I felt his glare come at me, and for a moment, I thought he might’ve left. I lifted my face from Papa’s hand and looked at my dresser. The light that had been there was gone now, leaving no trace of it having ever been there. I scan around my room, looking for any sign he’d just moved, but I don’t see anything.

“So, is the boogeyman gone now?” Papa asked, raising an eyebrow and looking around the room with me.

“Yeah… I don’t see him anymore,” I say, still scanning.

“Well, isn't that swell?” he says, pulling his hand from mine. He leans down, kisses me on the forehead, and pats my head a bit. “Now, I’m gonna go back to bed. You try to get some sleep, too, alright?”

“A-alright,” I say in a cracked voice. I’d only now realized how much it hurt after screaming like that. It felt like I could hardly say anything.

After tucking me in, Papa picks up his weapon and heads for the door. He swings the door a few times, examining the handle and frame, both partially smashed from when he’d kicked the door down in a rush. The hinges groan horribly, and he looks surprised that the door’s still attached as well as it is. He tries to close it, but no matter how he shifts or jams the door, it won’t stay in place. After a minute of jiggling it, he gives up and leaves it swaying freely. “Looks like you’ll have to go without a door for a while; sorry about that, but just try to get some sleep, okay, dear.”

“Okay,” i say, pulling the covers up to my chin. He disappears through the doorway, leaving Pearl and me alone in my room. Not even a moment passes before the light reappears exactly where it was. I open my mouth to scream again, but nothing comes out. Not even a faint, silent scream. No air at all passes from my lungs.

“I did not want it to come to this, but it seems you have more in common with Jonah than Samuel,” the light mocks, opening my dresser. “Now, here is what shall happen next. You shall change into street clothes and head outside to the nearby park, where the next phase shall begin. I was told to wear something you can move around in, so… These should do,” he says, tossing some clothes onto my bed and closing the drawer. I stayed motionless as he looked at me,

“Does he expect me to just accept his word and change?” I wonder. I still can’t talk, so I vigorously shake my head.

“Why must you be so rebellious? I did not want to have to resort to this, but you have given me no choice. You shall change and go to the park, or I shall reach out my hand against the dog.” His words are resentful and decisive. I feel his gaze shift from me to Pearl. I throw my arms around her.

“NOO! NOO! You wouldn’t DARE touch her!” I want to scream, but again, nothing comes out. It’s like my voice is stuck in my lungs.

“Oh, I would indeed dare. Now begin, or else I’ll stop her lungs as I have yours.” As he says it, I finally notice it. It’s my lungs that aren’t moving. My lips and throat are moving fine, but my lungs can’t move in either direction.

“If he can do that to me, then…” I stop thinking and begin throwing on the clothes. I don’t bother taking off my nightcap as I throw on the clothes. As soon as I’m half decent, the light begins hurrying me out the door and into the street. They seem unusually quiet and devoid of any people or cars. I follow behind, jogging, but never fast enough, as the figure keeps beckoning me, “faster, faster.” Eventually, as I reached the end of my stamina, we came to a park. “We are here,” it says as I lean over, desperately gasping to catch my breath. I’m so exhausted, I don’t even notice the other two waiting in the park until they call out to me.

“Yukki?” they ask. I look up and am shocked to see Hope and Yui standing under a streetlamp.