A Hero's Heart. Joseph David Hightower

his over coat to cover up with and leaves to sleep upon. He knew that this was going to be a long night. As he settled in and laid his head back he could see up into the night sky and was amazed at the number of stars. He began to try and count them, lulling himself into a restless sleep.

      Chapter 7

      Kokoru sat back in his chair and slowly pulled himself back into the present. He rubbed his eyes trying to focus on the things in the room and rolled his neck from side to side to loosen up the kinks that had set in from the time spent reading. He got to his feet and stretched, reaching high into the air and let out a tired breath. He felt almost as wounded as Heru, imagining the heaviness of the burden that Heru had carried with him, not wanting to disappoint his father, but at the same time wanting to be a normal teenager. If only his own father were here to ask these questions and to calm these fears. Almost as if sensing the presence of eyes on his back Kokoru slowly turned and found Mr. Kisame standing in the door holding a plate of food.

      “Are you ready to eat? I have brought you some tasty morsels this afternoon.” Mr. Kisame said as he walked over and sat the tray down on the side table. He looked over at Kokoru and with squinted old gray eyes he asked, “What is troubling you, young one? Your mind is very heavy. Is there anything that I can do to help you?”

      Kokoru gave the old man a small smile and shook his head, “No there is nothing that you can do. I was just wishing for my father, but alas it is pointless to wish for the things that cannot be. Thank you for the food it smells great.”

      With a small shake of his head, Mr. Kisame quietly left Kokoru to himself and his thoughts.

      With a tired sigh, Kokoru sat down to his evening meal. As he was eating his mind began to scroll through the things that he had read about Heru. He found several things that he and Heru had in common, some things that Kokoru was proud of and some that he was not so proud of. With a tired shake of his head he pushed his plate away and reached again for the thick bound book. Opening it up to the place he had left off, Kokoru allowed himself to be drawn both mentally and spiritually into Heru’s time.

      Chapter 8

      It turned out to be a restless and troubled night for everyone in the village. Many of the dreams were filled with ghostly images of past wrongs and of the punishments that came from them. The feeling of being a small helpless child seemed to permeate the entire village. There were only two people in the village that while being spared those images was fighting a battle of their own. They were Mr. Hanabashita and Heru.

      The red demon watched with a twisted smile on his face as his minion’s fear and torment ravaged the small village. Continuing to look on he reached into his black pockets and pulled out and small triangular instrument, about the size of the palm of a man’s hand. It was a pale blue color and had four holes on the two lower points. The upper point had a mouth hole, like that of a flute. On its front was inscribed in blood colored ink were these words, “Poison of Torment, the Breath of the Dead Mist”. With a deep breath, the demon began to play the instrument, a fine red mist slowly, and with deadly patience started to creep its way through the village, passing several huts in a quest for two solitary people, Mr. Hanabashita and Heru. When the red mist came to the forked divide that separated the village from the waterfall, it split itself in half and continued on its way. Upon finding them both, the red mist stopped and settled effortlessly over them working its way into their restless slumber.

      It seemed not to matter that both men were asleep miles from one another, their dreams were much the same, so much so that had one been watching they would have thought that it was the same person dreaming. The only difference in their dreams was the point of view in which they took place. Heru dreamt that he was walking on the path into his village on a bright and sunny day. He began to notice that every hut he passed had lotus blossoms hanging from them and that no one was out in the village working, instead everything appeared to be tightly shut up. As he rounded the village bell tower, the sound of wailing mourners filled his ears. He could see the crowd of people and with no further thought, Heru took off at a fast run in a desperate effort to see what had happened in his brief absence. When he finally reached the crush of bodies, he felt his body freeze from the inside out, for there in front of him was a coffin bearing the Hanabashita crest being carried out from his father’s hut, and Heru knew that he had just lost his father. He started shouting at the villagers in front him to tell him what had happened, but it seemed that they could not hear him. He grabbed one by the shoulder and spun him around and immediately jumped back because the villager had no face, only a black void with empty sockets where the eyes and mouth and nose should have been. Heru than began reaching out in random and everyone that he turned around had no face. He began to run from one place to another in desperation of finding some answers to what was going on in his village. He caught the sight of the coffin for a second time, but this time it was not closed, instead the lid was up and even more astonishing was the figure that was sitting up inside of it. A hand reached out and began to slowly remove the funeral wrap that was wound tightly about his face. Heru’s breath stopped as he caught the sight of his father’s hand moving. He began walking toward the coffin with stiff legs and a pounding heart, terrified of the sight before him. With the funeral wrap completely removed, Heru could see that his father only had a third of his face.

      With a gnarled hand, he pointed at Heru and said, “You have done this to me, you put me here! You knew the words of the ancestors and yet you did not obey them! You have killed you father and your village!”

      With the gnarled up and rotting hand pointed towards Heru, the faceless villagers began to close in around him. These faceless beings now had fangs and claw-like hands, but still just a dark empty void where the eyes should have been.

      Heru began trying to escape, but they blocked his every effort. He found himself face down on the ground with these demonic bodies surrounding him. Just as they were reaching down to consume what was left of Heru’s spirit, a mighty rushing wind swept in and with a voice that shook the entire village, shouted “ENOUGH!”

      The voice seemed to be coming from everywhere at the same time, both from within and from without. The strength of this voice caused Heru’s enemies to implode upon themselves, falling like ashes to the ground. Heru slowly climbed to his feet, completely stunned by what had just taken place. As he stood there the village began to fade from his view and he found himself being transported to the cabin next to the healing waters of the waterfall. This time however, instead of a quiet rushing of waters, the waterfall was a roar in his ears, drowning out all other sounds, the spray was gently covering his face and all exposed skin, almost like a healing caress of a loving father trying to bandage the wounds that had hurt the child. Closing his eyes, Heru stood letting the waters drench him completely. Hearing a quiet almost nonexistent sound behind him, he opened his eyes and slowly turned to find a mighty warrior coming down from the cabin towards him.

      Chapter 9

      This warrior appeared to be about 7’ tall with strong, broad shoulders and arms. His beard was a snowy white and came down almost to his chest. On his right thigh was an emblazoned inscription that read, “KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS”. When Heru read this he immediately fell to his knees and bowed his head in honor of this great warrior before him as was the custom that he had been raised to follow by his now deceased father. Seeing the bent head and slumped shoulders, the warrior reached down with a surprisingly soft touch and lifted Heru’s face to his.

      “Why do bow young warrior, when you are in the company of a brother and a friend?” asked the warrior.

      Upon hearing the word friend, Heru’s head snapped up and his shoulders straightened. The blinding light coming from the warrior’s armor caused Heru to rub a hand across his eyes before he could look closer at the man in front of him. Heru got to his feet and began to look deeply into the eyes of the warrior, and as he looked into those eyes they looked into him. A love that no man can understand began to consume Heru and he felt a strength enter his spirit that could not be described with any mortal words. All the fear, doubt, condemnation faded away. Heru once again fell to his knees, but this time it was in worship because he knew that he was in the presence of Yeshua, his friend, rescuer, and