Choices

Choices

Short Story

My cell phone rang.

“Detective Kirra Stirling, dead body found at Oakwood Hills Cemetery. Please report.”

“Acknowledged. I’m on my way.”

A dead body in the cemetery, how original, I thought to myself. Those St. Paul police dispatchers are such comedians.

As a kid I remember being in the car with my parents and siblings on a sizzling summer day. As we drove past a cemetery in our old Ford wagon, I asked, “Mom, how many people are dead in there?”

“Oh dear, I can’t say.”

“I do, ” I chirped, “all of them.” The car filled with laughter.

Removing my five-eleven frame from my car and pushing my long dark hair out of my brown eyes, I walked to where the cops stood around an old oak tree in the cemetery. I could see a bloodied body hanging from a medium-size dagger pierced through the man’s heart. He was pinned to the tree. His tongue had been cut out along with his penis.

“That must have smarted,” I said to the cops as my eyes traveled up and down the body.

Whoever he was, he was a mess. With over 15 years on the St. Paul Police Department, first as a cop and then a detective, I instinctively knew this was a crime of passion.

“Take him down,” I said after the medical examiner arrived, “and let me see the dagger.”

When the dagger was put in my gloved hand, I felt a sheer force of energy flow through my body. The sensation was more than electric, it was electrifying. I mean, it shook the core of my body, and my hands went numb.

“Officer,” I said to the cop, did you feel anything from this dagger?”

“No, detective, nothing out of the ordinary.”

The blade was made of sterling silver and straight. The handle, made of oak, had a sapphire and ruby inlaid. To me it looked ornamental. Weird images started flowing through my mind – torches on fire, women in dark robes, and mysterious archaic symbols. I gave the dagger to the officer.

“Do you feel anything from this dagger?”

“No,” said the officer. “It just feels heavy.”

“Okay, have it x-rayed and send it to my office.”

###

The next morning, I sat in my office chair earlier than usual. I had a restless night with difficult dreams rolling over me. I felt I was drowning. Looking at a photo of the dagger from yesterday’s murder, there was something about the dagger that felt familiar, but I couldn’t place it anywhere.

“Hi Kirra,” St. Paul Medical Examiner, Maggie Moore, walked into my office. She had the dagger in a bag and placed it on my desk.

“Any fingerprints?”

“Sorry, wiped clean. But I did notice a small symbol right below the handle or hilt.” Maggie leaned over and showed me where the symbol appeared.  “It’s the Celtic Tree of Life and called ‘Crann Bethadh.’ The Celts believed that the tree symbolized rebirth as we know trees shed their leaves in fall and grow new ones in spring. The Celtics believed in the close association between heaven and earth, life and death, and balance and harmony.”

“Wow, you did your research.” I took the dagger and immediately felt the electric buzz.

“Kirra, are you okay?”

I heard Maggie’s voice but was unable to respond. I mumbled some words as my hands shook.

Maggie grabbed the bag away from me. The sensations in my body immediately began to ease.

“Kirra, what just happened?”

“I…I don’t know. It happened yesterday at the crime scene, but the sensation was not as strong. Do you feel anything when you hold it?”

“No, not at all.” Maggie checked me to see if I was truly back in the present moment.

We looked at each other.

“Give me the dagger again.”

“No way, you went completely pale, and your pupils dilated. I thought you were having a heart attack.”

I shook my head. “If you don’t feel anything but I do, there’s something this dagger is trying to tell me.”

“Baloney, Kirra, I don’t believe in magical items giving us messages.”

“I know you’re versed in physical scientific proof, but you saw what happened to me when I touched it. How do you explain this?”

Maggie ran her hands through her hair. “Honestly, Kirra, I have no scientific explanation for this.”

“Give it to me, please.”

The second I touched the bag with the dagger, the intense sensations started again. This time I held onto the dagger despite the electricity running through my body but didn’t let go. Removing the dagger out of the bag I held it by the hilt. Bringing it closer to see, I saw the Celtic symbol as the electricity grew stronger. I closed my eyes and kept my breathing as calm as possible. Suddenly, I heard a woman’s voice say, ‘Maróidh mé na fir seo.’ I put the dagger down and reached for my cell phone. The sensation had stopped as I entered the woman’s message. The Celtic translation came up immediately.

“I will kill these men.”

###

The next day my Commander and I discussed my murder case

“From the message I got from the dagger we’ve got a serial killer on our hands. I’ve called other police departments, and I’ve been told that there are similar cases around the Midwest. Most of them went cold and there’s no more information.”

The Commander rose from his desk and began to pace. “I think you’re on to something, Detective, but I’m a little skeptical when you say you got a message from the dagger. I didn’t realize daggers could talk.”

“In most cases, Commander, objects like bullets, guns, knives, and poisons all tell a murder story  ̶  I know you know this. Receiving messages from murder weapons has happened to me in many cases and I’ve learned to listen to them. In this case, the dagger has a story and I need to do research on this specific weapon. When I contacted the National Evidence Library, I was told that this dagger originates in Scotland. I’d like to ask for permission to travel to Scotland to do more research on this weapon.”

“Whoa, that’s going to be especially expensive for the department.” The Commander sat down in his chair and put his hands together.

“I know that Sir, which is why I’d like you to approve the funds. I may be able to solve more cases since I believe this case is part of a serial killer or killers. And my mother is originally from Scotland, and she may have suggestions where I can start looking.”

“That’s a good point, Detective. Let me see about the funds. But this is going to be a strict expense and I don’t want you doing tourist attractions. Do you hear me?”

“Yes Sir.”

 I’ve always known that I was from Scottish and Celtic heritage, yet I never really thought about it much. With thick accents, my parents tried to teach me their Gaelic language. I did pick up on several phrases during my growing years, but now I was totally intrigued by their language. Similar yet different, I found many common verbs and nouns. Yet, I never heard the phrase, ‘Maróidh mé na fir seo.’

I went to my parent’s home and asked for their help in understanding the message. I explained to them how I got the dagger and the message. My mother shook her head back and forth. She had a strange look in her eyes.

“I knew you were the chosen,” she said in her Scottish brogue. “Kirra, you must go to Scotland and find the woman who spoke these words.”

“But where do I go in Scotland? I’ve never been there and I’m not sure what to do when I get there.”

“Go to the Isle of Skye.”

###

I’ll spare the details of planning my trip because my mom did all the work. In my carryon bag I brought the dagger and went through a multitude of security. The dagger was encased in clear hard plastic with an ‘Authentic Ancient Weapon’ printed on the case. A governmental letter of permission to carry it with me accompanied the case.

Though my parents often talked about Scotland and the Celtics, I brought a book of Scottish facts and myths to study. With nine hundred islands, I knew the Isle of Skye is located on the west coast of Scotland. It’s fifty miles long, twenty-five miles wide, covered with mist-shrouded mountains, and a rugged landscape. When I asked my mom where I should start my exploration, she recommended the town of Glen Brittle where I will find the crystal-clear blue pools, known as Fairy Pools. Intrigued, I made my way to the town.

Glen Brittle turned out to be a magical place, but I had work to do. After walking around the scenic village, I arrived at a little bed and breakfast along the Brittle River. My plan was to rest for a day and then tomorrow take a hike to find where my ancestors lived near the Cuillin Hills. The area proved to be an arduous trip with mountains ridges, rocky soil, and wild winds.

The weather was true Scotland. I wore my rain gear and boots to protect me from a beautiful but harsh landscape.

My ancestors lived in this area all the way back to the 1300’s. The most famous of my ancestors was a woman named ‘Satira Leaf Stirling.’ She was known as the protectress of women and children. I believe she was more myth than human by the stories told about her. She was a fighter and farmer. Her manor was open to all women and children who were persecuted and physically and sexually abused by evil fathers, uncles, and husbands. Many stories called her ‘Saint Satira’ because of her heroic deeds. Satira was said to have deep black eyes and long black hair.”

After wandering around the countryside looking for clues, I came upon an outline of rocks where a large house once existed. Searching the ground, I found a doorway covered with rocks and moss. My curiosity got the best of me, so I walked through it. The last thing I remember is a rock knocked me on the head and I fell to the ground.

###

I could taste blood in my mouth, and I spit it out. A wet cloth was applied to my face by an unknown hand. I tried to look push the cloth away, but my eyes were shielded.

“Ohhhhh,” I groaned and tried to sit up. That same hand pushed me back on the soft mattress. “Where am I?”

“Shhh, be quiet my dear.” The voice had a thick Gaelic accent.

For a moment I thought I was back at the bed and breakfast. When I was finally able to open my eyes, everything was blurry. I blinked several times to clear my vision. When I was able to focus, I realized I was on a bed across from a fireplace. The logs burned brightly, and the smoky smell made me light-headed.

“Where am I?” I asked again.

“Kirra, welcome home,” a woman said. “I’m delighted you’ve come to visit me.”

I looked in the direction of a woman sitting in a rocking chair. She had deep black eyes and long sable hair. Her smile was brilliantly white. She held a cup of tea in her right hand. I saw that her fingers were long and slim with a large sapphire ring on her left ring finger. I turned my head to the right and above the fireplace was an enormous dagger just like the one I had in my possession. The dagger pierced the Tree of Life, while the sapphires and rubies sparkled.

“Who are you?” I tried to sit up and this time I succeeded. “What’s with the dagger?”

“I am Satira Leaf Stirling, you and your mother’s ancestor.”

“You can’t be, it’s the year 2024! How did you get here?’ I shook my head ‘no.’”

“Actually, you’re in the year of the Protectress, 1336.”

“The year of the Protec…” I blinked confused. “No wait, it’s 2024 and I’m on the Isle of Skye. I’m looking for the origin of the dagger on your wall. To whom does it belong?”

“I am the owner.”

“You?”

“And this is my home.” Satira stood.

She was elegantly dressed in a velvet dark blue robe, and I estimated her height to be about 5’11 – the same as me. Satira looked so much like my mother, and me I suppose.

“I have been waiting for you for a long time,” she said. Satira held out her arms to hug me, but I couldn’t move.

“I have so many questions about you and the dagger. I found it in the chest of a man stuck to a tree in a cemetery.”

“As he deserved!”

Satira’s response shocked me. “He had his tongue and penis cut from him.”

“Rightfully so?”

“Are you a monster? How can you say he deserves it?” I was angry. If the murdered man had done something to deserve it, then what did he do?”

The room went silent. I could only hear the logs crackling in the fireplace.

“You and I must talk.”

###

“The dead man in the cemetery abused his wife and children, physically, sexually, emotionally, and spiritually. He did it for years and was never punished. Your justice system allowed him to continue without retribution.” Satira paced back and forth in the library. “He, and all the men like him, need to be killed.”

Huddled in a blanket, I asked, “So you believe that killing these men is justice?”

Satira nodded.

“Are you saying your justice is better than ours?”

“Yes. Your justice let’s thousands of men abuse women and children without, as I said, being punished. So, we take justice and rid the world of these men.”

“But is your way the best way?”

“Our way reduces the temptation and eases the issue.” Satira took a sip of her tea. “We honor our women and children and not the paternal quest for power and control.”

“Isn’t that what you want – power?”

Satire stood abruptly. “How dare you accuse me of seeking power! My followers and I end the abuse cycle and eliminate evil men. Your justice puts them behind bars and lets them live after all the horror they cause. Your justice system does not work, while ours does.”

“What’s the meaning behind cutting out their tongues and penises, and hanging them on trees?”

“So, they can no longer spew their lies and filth. Cutting off the penis is both symbolic and prevention from forcing their wills on innocent women and children. They are hung on trees by daggers to symbolize the Tree of Life’s message of death and rebirth. It is our belief that these evil men die and return to earth reborn into kind and gentle males. Your system lets them be perpetrators to the end. There is no redemption.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, yet I sensed the logic in her thinking. “How do you know they come back better men?”

“We have a strong faith in nature. Mother Nature gives and takes, provides sustenance, and allows us peace. Your justice system of laws and punishments has no regard for Mother Nature and the gifts she bestows on us. Greed, anger, wars, and crimes all go against nature.”

“But you have those in Scotland.”

“On the 10^th of September in 1547, the battle of Pinkie Cleugh was the last formal battle between England and Scotland. We have had no wars since. We are a peaceful country.”

“Yet you still murder!”

“We destroy evil,” Satira angrily countered.

I sat in silence reviewing Satira’s words and wisdom. She was right, our justice system is not protecting women and children. Laws are laws, but they don’t protect those in need. I’m a St. Paul police detective sworn to uphold the law, but in my years on the force, I’ve seen perpetrators walk out of jail because they find money and lawyers to get them out. I shook my head.

“You see my point, don’t you, Kirra?”

I nodded. “Where did you get this?” I demanded to see the dagger I brought from Minnesota.

“This dagger belongs to your mother and now you.”

My mother?” I jumped up and reached for the dagger, but Satira pulled it back. “What do you mean?”

“This is your mother’s dagger. She killed the man in the cemetery.”

“No, she didn’t. You’re lying.” I could feel my face getting hot. “She’s not a murderer.”

“She is a follower of the Tree of Life Clan and has taken a vow to eliminate men who harm women and children. All your female clan ancestors are eternal members in our belief in the Tree of Life. It’s now your turn to join us.”

“I’m a detective, I can’t suddenly become a criminal.”

“No, you’re an angel and a protectress. You are being called to your purpose.” Holding the dagger, the hard plastic suddenly cracked, and Satira handed the unprotected dagger to me. “You have a choice, Kirra. Either you arrest your mother for the murder, or you take this dagger and eliminate evil perpetrators. Is e do roghainn.”

“It is your choice.”

The End