asinglewordwilldo: (Alva Phone)
"Those who live, live off the dead." - Antonin Artaud

We absolutely live off the dead, and in far more than simply a literal sense. Many animals in the wild eat their dead, and we are no better than they...granted, we may not eat the flesh, but as a people we feed on the essence of our dead...the mind, the heart, the soul.

We as human beings are natural emotional scavengers...as a man, and a scholar, I know this to be true. How often are the accomplishments and insight of the elite among us refuted and consigned to obscurity until the innovators have long since died? Why do we give such devoted attention to the words and wishes of the departed, otherwise?

My God...just look at the study of history...that entire field of academic study is the greatest symbol of Man’s existence as nothing more than a pack of vultures plucking meat straight off the bone. You need no other proof that we live in a world fueled by the remains of those who have gone before us. We take from them to ensure our own survival...we avoid the mistakes of our Custers and Lees, and we stand on the laurels of our Lincolns and Washingtons.

We do not feed on dead flesh, but dead souls. This is what sustains us...this is how we survive. Despite whatever grim imagery such a notion might produce, there’s very little wrong with it. All animals do what they must to survive...we are no exception.

Muse: Alva Keel
Fandom: Miracles
Words: 248
asinglewordwilldo: (That Certain Smile)
Key On Table )

Muse: Alva Keel
Fandom: Miracles
Words: 733
asinglewordwilldo: (Alva Phone)
Well, like the man in the story posing a similar question to a group of seminary students, I’d finish my game of pool. Figuratively speaking, at any rate...that bloke only had an hour to live, and in this instance I’ve got a whole day to simply do as I please.

The point is, I’d do very little differently in that day, because I’ve been blessed with a rare gift among most men: I do exactly as I please each and every day already. I have nothing special I’d go out of my way to do. However, if you’d like particulars...

I’d do one thing special: I’d make the drive up to Connecticut, had I a day to do so outside of my weekends...I’m still living in Boston until the wedding, and until I’ve settled the future of the Boston office of Sodalitas Quaerito. I’d spend my day with Lorelai and Rory...and the baby, which Lorelai has begun insisting I address upon every meeting. Not that that’s a chore, mind you...I only wish she had decided to call it something other than Moon Doggie. She’ll feel the fool if it’s a girl, and frankly I’d prefer Gidget anyway...

Anyway, I’d spend my day with my family. Take the girls to Luke’s...enlist his aid in keeping Lorelai away from the caffeine...or go to Al’s House Of Pancakes depending on Lorelai’s cravings. In which case, I’d be utterly alone in wrestling the coffee away from my dear sweet fiancee.

Then I think I’d take the girls to Boston...take them shopping and happily watch them procure an impossible amount of shoes and clothing before we went back to my offices. Believe it or not, Lorelai likes it there. Rory’s in her element, but although she finds little interest in the rudimentary research, study, and overall paperwork involved with what I do, the supernatural element fascinates her to no end.

That’s where I’d like to spend my one day of leisure...in my office, at my desk with a book in front of me and Lorelai standing behind me with her chin resting on the top of my head, arms around my shoulders while she gives me a running commentary on why the Four Horsemen of the apocalypse prophesied in Revelations ought to enlist professional wrestler Ric Flair to promote them.

I’d spend my day in the perfect place...and I’m fortunate that my perfect place is precisely where I am at this very moment.

Muse: Alva Keel
Fandom: Miracles
Words: 417
asinglewordwilldo: (Lorelai digs the black silk PJ's)
((NOTE: Takes place shortly after this post by [livejournal.com profile] needmycoffee.))

The pain in her stare is drawing me shapes
oh, so fair.
The pain in her stare is making me wish I was there
with something to declare.


“Lorelai, honestly...it’s nothing. ‘Tis but a scratch and all that.”

She’d appreciated the Monty Python reference, but let him have it for the bruised jaw he’d earned himself the day after arriving in town for what was becoming his customary weekend stay.

It started that night, simply enough. When Lorelai showed up at the Dragonfly that evening, she was feeling low...Alva could tell. He hadn’t know her very long, but he’d learned enough of her witticisms and humor to decipher the subtext in her jokes and gibes that she’d seen something unpleasant...and it had to do with her former fiancee and the woman he was now seeing.

Alva probably shouldn’t have taken that opportunity to go down to the diner and introduce himself...but her pain bothered him. A great deal.

“My name is Alva Keel...I’m currently dating your former fiancee.”

Alva had *almost* expected it when Luke punched him, not even bothering to come out from behind the counter to do it.

Alva was damn sure Luke hadn’t expected *him* to punch back, splitting his lip before grabbing him by the front of his filthy flannel shirt and nearly hauling him over the counter.

“You never get to do that again. You don’t get to protect her anymore...not when you’re hurting her so badly.”

There might have been more, but the look in Luke’s eyes shifted, albeit subtly. It was a softening...an understanding of the reality he was now living in.

“You English people like tea, right? I got some herbal, if you want...”

After that complimentary cup of tea, he’d left the diner and even shook Luke’s hand...he’d come for a little payback on Lorelai’s behalf, and walked away with a new respect for the man she had almost married...perhaps, in the long run, he’d even made himself a friend of Luke Danes.

Alva had taken up a mantle that night...the mantle of the one who would take care of her. Changing water bottles, doing repairs, listening to rants and tirades, and being available for Rory as needed.

The Gilmore girls were a hardy, independent duo...but when they stumbled, it was Alva’s job to catch them now. And he just prayed to God he was worthy of the task.

Muse: Alva Keel
Fandom: Miracles
Words: 416
asinglewordwilldo: (Default)
"We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us." - E.M. Forster

When I was teaching at Harvard, I often threw that quote at my students more than once during a semester. The ones that found it pretentious never stayed long...the ones that found it funny that I quoted a gay 19th century novelist who fell in love with a seventeen year old Middle Eastern boy usually made the best progress. It was the ones who took it to heart, though, that went on to truly great things.

You see, I offered it up in an effort to emphasize the fact that one must go into the world with an open mind and a desire for real truth, regardless of how fantastic truth might be. It could be religion, faith, science or bloody grocery shopping, but truth is truth, unchanging.

I had a rather lovely life planned out...well, planned out for me more than anything. Go to school, become a doctor...do right by the Keel family name. But then I found Truth, with a capital ‘T,’ as Lorelai might say. Have I mentioned that I love you today, sweetheart? I found it on the moors while studying English ravens. My dead mother’s voice came to me in the midst of a tape recording of ravensong...and I let go of my safe little plan. It took some time, some work..and some fortitude, but I started on my path to Truth, and here I remain.

We all want a certain life for ourselves...but it’s not always the life we were born to live. A mathematician can aspire to dreams of being a poet, but his gifts will always take him back to the world of the concrete rather than the esoteric artist’s realm. A warrior may dream of peace, but one day, he will once again find himself in the heat of battle.

It’s not easy...but it’s the way things are. I know only this for certain...had I earned my medical degree and forged a nice little practice in Blackpool or London...I never would have gone to Star’s Hollow, and I never would have met Lorelai Gilmore.

She is the life that waits for me now...and I would not trade it for anything in all the world.

Muse: Alva Keel
Fandom: Miracles
Words: 374
asinglewordwilldo: (Lorelai digs the black silk PJ's)
Last night, I dreamed of our future wedding…Lorelai’s and mine. Well…I dreamed about the reception. It was lovely…and disturbing, in equal parts.

Lovely because everything was perfect…and disturbing because it began with Miss Patti dragging me out onto the dance floor and promptly started groping me as we swayed to a slow song…yet not slow enough to warrant the hold she had firmly on my backside.

I know that Paul was my best man, and Evey was a bridesmaid…Matty was our ring bearer. Rory was the maid of honor, and a beautiful one at that. The wedding was in Star’s Hollow, and the town square hosted our reception…catered by Sookie of course.

The whole affair was a comedy of errors…that queer young man Kirk did photography, and Rory’s friend Jess attended as our DJ. Lorelai was rather pleased with him for being there, I knew…probably because her mother was present and didn’t seem very happy with any of it, until Taylor Doose invited her to dance.

The most vivid detail, though, was when I finally took Lorelai out onto the floor and the music began to play. And that was the single, shining fact that made it all so glorious…holding in my arms Mrs. Alva Keel, regardless of what the marriage certificate might say when we do get married, love, I still say taking my name would be a lovely, traditional touch. The mother of my child…the woman of my dreams.

I remember she kissed me…then begged me to let her start Vogue-ing to give her mother a heart attack.

And just before I woke up, I remember thinking that demons could have consumed my flesh in that instant…fire could have fallen from the sky, the apocalypse I’ve been working to prevent could have arrived in that very moment, and I would have died content.

As many fears and doubts as I might have about this road I’m now traveling…I know they’re natural. And I know that in the end, they don’t matter.

I’m in love…I’m going to be a father, and I’m going to marry the loveliest of the Gilmore Girls who lives for Mallowmars and coffee and *doesn’t* attend Yale.

I’m scared…I’m nervous…I’m thoroughly intimidated…but I’m happy, and eager for that dream to become a reality. And nothing in the world’s going to change that.

Muse: Alva Keel
Fandom: Miracles
Words: 387
asinglewordwilldo: (That Certain Smile)
"Alva, I really, *really* hope this is some kind of sick joke." )

Muse: Alva Keel
Fandom: Miracles
Words: 637
asinglewordwilldo: (Lorelai digs the black silk PJ's)
Too often in my career, I’ve borne witness to the endless loop of history in the minds and hearts of the dead...spirits who relive their mistakes over and over again, drawn to those who make the very same mistakes. As a former teacher, I’m a man of study...looking into the past to obtain answers that will help me control the one thing that is within my grasp to have total power over: the future. *My* future.

In the past, I’ve made the mistake of holding back far too much from those I call my friends...the closest I now have left to a real family. Because of that, I’ve already damaged one relationship that’s become ultimately important in my life and my work, and that’s my relationship with my good friend Paul.

I always thought that I was an enlightened man...an open man, in regards to some things at any rate. It took another person, however, to show me just what a dullard I really am...a beautiful, somewhat flighty, and deceptively insightful woman.

She recently stayed over the night for the first time...and when Evelyn came into work the next day and asked me point blank, I informed her, politely, that Lorelai had stayed the night. No details, love...get your mind out of the gutter.

It’s the first time I never bothered to refute a blatantly personal question...and in the end, I felt better for it...*feel* better for it. I reached the same point again...speak or stay silent...and I spoke, to everyone’s benefit.

It was one historical event that I shall never repeat...not as long as I let my conscience be my guide. And not unlike Pinnochio, I do have one...very unlike the little wooden bloke, however, I have a rather fetching beauty instead of a cricket.

And yes, Lorelai, the Disney reference was solely for your benefit.

Muse: Alva Keel
Fandom: Miracles
Words: 319
asinglewordwilldo: (That Certain Smile)
In his years of dealing with the supernatural, Alva had dealt with many unusual phenomena...demons, malevolent ghosts, possessions, any number of dark or otherwise unpleasant supernatural events. Not all of them were evil, but there had been a very rare handful of occurences worthy of his note that had been honest, redeeming miracles with any quality that might instill a bit of hope or inspiration in the average man.

Still, he had encountered a few...the Shadow Ridge incident, for one, and his first ever viewing of ghost lights. Deborah Olson had been another, with her miraculous salvation from death in saving his own life...and that was without mention of the rather incredible way she'd touched him in a far more personal manner.

But rarely had he ever seen the likes of the current phenomenon he was investigating...and it struck him as equally profound that, had it not been for the clairvoyant in Hartford, who had been killing with his premonitions, Alva would have never stumbled across Star's Hollow.

The name came to him in an interview with a local Hartford newspaper owned by the Huntzenberger Publishing Company, given that the magnate who owned the conglomerate, Mitchum Huntzenberger, resided there. He'd looked the town up in passing...

...and found nothing. Which, in and of itself, was utterly fascinating.

Limited research indicated that the town had literally seen no unusual occurences since its founding in 1779. Natural disasters avoided it, even war had completely avoided the small town, as evidenced by a historic re-enactment that supposedly took place every year...during British occupation, a team of revolutionaries had waited together for a battle which never arrived.

The town had literally seen no ill fortune in over two hundred years.

It was this unusual bit of information that had led Alva to extend his stay in Connecticut and make a side trip to Star's Hollow, which was only a half hour ride from Hartford. Checking out of the hotel he'd been staying in, Alva rented a car and made the journey himself, where a bit of local questioning had led him to cross the path of a rather jovial young woman by the name of Sookie St. James who not only reccomended the Dragonfly Inn to him, but insisted on accompanying him there.

So it was that he found himself being led into the small, cozy little bed and breakfast by Sookie's bright, bubbly chattering.

"Oh, you'll love it here, I promise! I'm making cherry streusel for breakfast tomorrow, with strawberry iced tea! It's going to be *really* good, and Lorelai does a fabulous job with this place...just ignore Michel, he's French. I like your accent better than his anyway, it's so...so...*British!* Just a sec, I'll get Lorelai...LORELAI!! WE HAVE A GUEST!!...she'll be right with you in just *one* second, Mr. Keel. I'd stay and chat, but these peaches'll get too soft if I leave 'em in the bag for much longer..."

"Not at all, Ms. St. James." Alva reassured her with a nod and a smile, adjusting his bag on his shoulder as he leaned against the front desk. "Your help has been most appreciated."

As Sookie blushed and hastily headed for the kitchen, catching a swarthy gentleman by the arm to steer him clear of Alva on her way out, he couldn't help but marvel at the air of tranquility in this unusual place as he waited for this Lorelai Gilmore to show herself.
asinglewordwilldo: (That Certain Smile)
After somewhat recent events, I would have to say that there is no more satisfying experience on earth than buying coffee.

Yes Lorelai, you heard me right…the stuffy Brit found personal satisfaction in coffee. Although, I must confess, it was the motive that was far more enjoyable…obviously, I wasn’t buying the coffee for me. It was, in fact, for one Lorelai Gilmore.

I’ve been spending an inordinate amount of weekends in Hartford and Star’s Hollow since we first became involved. I’ve met her daughter, Rory…lovely girl, by the way…and as I’ve heard tell, her mother would like me to come to dinner next week. They don’t get along…Lorelai and her mother, and she’s convinced that I’m being offered up as a sacrificial lamb to the altar of the Gilmore name.

Me, I’m not too concerned…after all, I’ve done a fine job of disgracing the Keel family name, what’s one more set of blue-bloods? After all, Lorelai’s teaching me that being a disgrace can be *quite* amusing.

At any rate, I bought the coffee for her…for the day she decided to come to Boston. The day she decided to stay with *me*. I suppose one might call it wishful thinking…I prefer to call it optimism.

After all, the world’s filled with all manner of miraculous things, and I’m often subject to the study of the worst of them. Miracles like Lorelai don’t come along often…so when I was at the market recently and I bought the coffee without a second thought…it really hit me for the first time that she was *my* miracle. My own. My Lorelai.

And I was waiting for her to come to me.

It was definitely a satisfying moment…realizing I had someone I was waiting for.

Realizing I had someone of my own.

Muse: Alva Keel
Fandom: Miracles
Words: 296
asinglewordwilldo: (Alva Shock)
I do work, to a degree, to protect certain people and aspects of my life from general scrutiny. Most recently, it’s been my involvement with Lorelai Gilmore that I’ve fostered a certain reluctance to speak about or share with those around me. My reasons are fairly simple...even what some may consider a bit banal...or as Lorelai might say, corny.

She is, quite simply, a very good thing in my life, and I don’t often find those...I suppose I’m fearful of jinxing this thing between us.

I realize such motivations for keeping secrets from my friends are fairly ridiculous...and at the same time, it’s a little more sinister than that. I suppose, in the end, I still haven’t learned my lesson from the incident with Chad Goodwell and the hemography phenomenon I’ve devoted much of my time to studying...protecting people by holding my tongue when I ought to speak up.

I don’t know if Paul’s ever really forgiven me for that, given what he risked simply by joining SQ, but hiding what I knew about the other hemography victims...it was a rather sharp, unyielding example of the road to Hell being paved by good intentions. There was a great deal of damage done because I worried more about protecting certain parties and less about being honest with my comrades. I first tried to protect my work, and then a dear friend...and somewhere in all of that, I lost sight of simple trust...how fragile it is, and how easily it can be lost or won.

Protecting people can be a tricky business...from the largest revelation to the smallest personal problems and blessings...even protecting oneself is no easy task. I’ve never been known for readily admitting when I’m wrong...but I can only pray that my friends can survive my own mulish tendencies in the end.

Muse: Alva Keel
Fandom: Miracles
Words: 313
asinglewordwilldo: (Alva Phone)
I think we’re all subject to jealousy at one point or another...professional jealousy, the jealousy tied to love and friendship, even the petty jealousy that finds its most banal roots in material and spiritual envy. It’s a quality of being human...and I confess, I’m not above it.

Most recently, I’ve found jealousy of another kind...one that, I must admit, I don’t regret feeling. It started when I met the daughter of the woman I’ve been visiting during my recent stays in Connecticut. Her name is Rory, and she’s quite a remarkable girl...brilliant mind, shame it was wasted on Yale. I’m kidding, girls. And yet with all her thirst for knowledge, for all her scholarly inclinations...she’s every bit her mother’s daughter. She’s a little flighty and high strung, has a rather unconventional sense of humor, and little regard for public opinion...not to mention a ghastly and eternal hunger for and an inhuman ability to metabolize all things sweet, fatty, and otherwise bad for you.

And when I see Rory and Lorelai together...I do confess to a pang of jealousy, however brief.

Rory is a very fortunate young lady, and she seems very aware of that fact...seeing the relationship she has with her mother makes me wonder on my own life...what could have been, what I might have had, if only I’d found the right person sooner. It makes me wonder if, under different circumstances, I might have been lucky enough to have someone like Rory in my own life.

[locked from Sodalitas Quaerito]

Along with my personal problems, I deal with jealousy of another sort...or at least I did.

Paul and Evelyn...their convictions, their beliefs, or even their lack thereof. They know what they lack or what they don’t...even in their uncertainty, they are sure.

My beliefs have never been so concrete...only my pursuit of them.

Even now that I have something more to believe in in my life...a woman I could have a future with, I find that my beliefs come even further into question. I know what I am willing to do for what I know to be true, but in matters of faith...what the heart knows over the head...

I am not jealous of Paul for his experiences, nor am I jealous of Evelyn for her brush with death.

In the end? It is their beliefs which I fear will forever be a source of envy for me.

[/locked]

Muse: Alva Keel
Fandom: Miracles
Words: 417
asinglewordwilldo: (Alva Watching)
I believe that, more than once, my natural sense of objectivity has been my greatest weakness...and after the events involving Deborah Olson, among other things, I’m not afraid to admit that particular fact to anyone. Granted, I’d not likely volunteer the information...

I think, however, that this particular character flaw has come to light more often since a recent expedition I made to a small town in Connecticut called Star’s Hollow. I made the venture to study a rather interesting and off-beat phenomenon taking place there...the intermittent incidents of automatic writing taking place approximately every seven years. Needless to say, I went searching for a hemography-related study, and I stayed for a lot more.

The secondary event I discovered was the town’s unusually peaceful history. Granted, there are places in this world that are particularly peaceful, but Star’s Hollow is peaceful to the point of a supernatural event. But, as I said, that event was secondary.

The primary event I discovered, outside of the automatic writing, was Lorelai Gilmore.

While I’ve been aware of my own shortcomings in this area for some time, it wasn’t until I made a reservation at the Dragonfly Inn that I realized that, while aware of my habit of withdrawing from an event in the name of intellectual purity, I’d done absolutely nothing to remedy that fact. It was my first night there that, on a whim, I allowed her to talk me into going on a ghost hunt of sorts...namely out to the local lake in search for ghost lights. I was shocked to find they were real, and recorded plenty of footage, as well as some photographs of the event. Witnessing her own reaction...it was an invigorating breath of fresh air.

She’s a remarkable woman, Lorelai Gilmore...and she’s not the type to let a man succumb to his own pitfalls for long. The more time I spend with her, the more difficult I find it to separate myself from the sheer emotion of many events. While I can retain my objectivity, I keep only that which is necessary to my studies.

No one, however, is perfect, so when I feel myself slipping...when my work starts to wear on me rather than bring the joy to my life that it once did, I make my way to Star’s Hollow, and the Dragonfly Inn.

And I assure you, Lorelai always makes sure that my time spent there is *never* wasted.

Muse: Alva Keel
Fandom: MIRACLES
Words: 411
asinglewordwilldo: (Alva Watching)
I’ve never been a victim of reincarnation, so I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to tell you. The fact is that I know a great deal on the subject, and I can say without a doubt that I’ve never been a victim of this phenomenon, and I use the word ‘victim’ intentionally.

The new age version, complete with crystals and patchouli, is obviously the most widely accepted...after each complete life a person has lived, they are reborn to live anew...from conception to death. The *actual* definition of reincarnation, however, is quite different. It isn’t a renewal of life, but a substitution of it. Two people die at the same time...only one, however, recovers from that condition. It’s not dissimilar to possession, only you’re not dealing with a demon nor has a soul been sublimated. It’s like a tenant moving into a vacant property...it sounds rather cold, but that’s precisely what’s happening.

There are cases, however, when two souls try to inhabit a body at the same time, but in all the cases I’ve read, the original soul eventually slips away...it’s the original death, you see, that causes the event, so for reincarnation to take place this is what must transpire...it’s a hardship for the loved ones of the body’s original owner, but for the deceased it’s a chance to finish that which induced the reincarnation...settle unresolved matters, make right that which might have gone quite wrong.

I understand the above is hardly anecdotal, which is what you were likely looking for, but you asked a question and you got an answer...I can’t speculate on any sort of past life because I’ve not had one. Pure and simple.

Muse: Alva Keel
Fandom: Miracles
Words: 285
asinglewordwilldo: (Alva Watching)
From a letter buried in a drawer of Alva's desk, shuffled in with miscellaneous paperwork...

Paul,

I’m well aware of the fact that the tensions between you and I have never truly ceased, not since the incident with Chad Goodwell. Were it not for the unfortunate situation with Matty, I wonder if either one of us would have ever been willing to step back from the line we’d each drawn in the sand as far as sharing information.

I know you still remain unconvinced as to my motives, Paul, but there’s something you must understand: until I’d actually met you, you were nothing but a puzzle piece to me. You were another fragment of the hemography enigma I’d yet to completely unravel, a stepping stone on the way to the ultimate answer that I was...that I *am* pursuing.

Then I found out you existed, and you became not a puzzle piece, but an enigma all your own. Then I met you...and you became a man. It was when I got to know you a bit that you became a human being...I’ll be the first to confess, I have a habit of intellectualizing a great deal of things in my life, a fact you’ve become more than a little aware of in the time we’ve worked together, I’m sure. However, your friend Father Calero changed a great deal of that when he brought Deborah Olson’s case to our attention.

For a great deal of my life, all I’ve had is my work. You and Evelyn, you have your own reasons for coming here, and your own reasons for staying here, working for me...I need you to know that I had reasons for bringing you here, but my reasons for keeping you here...they stopped being about the work a long time ago.

I may be a stubborn, rather self-absorbed man, Paul, but I’m not a fool. I know a valued friend when I see one, and that is what you are...not a human being, but a *friend.* And everything I have ever done, including withholding the truth, has been out of nothing less than an honest and sincere desire to help and protect you.

Fondest regards,
Alva

Muse: Alva Keel
Fandom: Miracles
Words: 355
asinglewordwilldo: (Alva Phone)
You want a secret, do you? Very well, then...I’m sure there’s something deep and dark enough to satisfy your prurient curiosity...ah. I know.

You ready? You’re quite sure? All right then...here goes.

I’m a closet Trekkie.

You heard me right...STAR TREK is one of my most closely guarded secrets. I’ve done a lot I’m not proud of, seen some horrible things and been responsible for worse...an academic’s life isn’t all moonlight and roses, y’know. But still, I must confess that despite all my bookish British behavior thank you, Evelyn, I really am just a stereotypical nerd at heart.

Now I’m fairly sure of what you’re thinking...and the answer is no. I don’t own a uniform or a communicator badge, and I don’t go to many conventions just the one and bloody hell, Shatner was there so bugger off, it was a once in a lifetime opportunity!...the whole thing is very hush-hush. I hide my Federation skeletons in the furthest reaches of my closet, thank you. Still, I do have issues with the telly being on when I’m doing anything short of a job in the field...if an episode pops on, then I’m fairly useless to anyone. Not to mention I’m a right bear if anyone tries to turn the station.

So there you have it...I’m a ex-pre med student, a former college professor, a paranormal investigator, and a bloody Trekkie. Have your laughs, then begone from my presence if you’re not providing me with some sort of information on a case, or bearing gifts of food. And tea. Or, for that matter, a good snort of single-malt scotch.

Right now, I’ve got work to do.

Muse: Alva Keel
Fandom: Miracles
Words: 286
asinglewordwilldo: (Alva Phone)
Sodalitas Quaerito
365 Midlothian Lane, Suite # 29
Boston, Massachusetts 02116
U.S.A.


14 July 2006

Dear Mrs. Riley,

You don’t know me, but I know a great deal about you based on the local media coverage relating to your family’s recent experiences, namely those of your sons, Michael and James. It is for this reason that I’m writing...I would like the chance to speak with all of you in regards to this matter, and I’d like to do so in person.

My name is Alva Keel. As the letterhead can tell you, I’m located in Boston, but it’s the United Kingdom I call home. I’m something of an academic...a student of all things delving into the paranormal or the unexplained. Mind you, I’m no tabloid journalist, religious fanatic or UFO chaser...I’m simply a man with a scientist’s mind and a cleric’s faith in that which we cannot define through the auspices of logic.

Sodalitas Quaerido is my organization...the name is Latin for ‘brotherhood in search of truth,’ for that is what we do. We are few in number, but strong in conviction, and truth is our driving force. We investigate and research strange occurrences and phenomenon such as that which your family has experienced. While we have no formal credentials, we *do* have experience in these matters...I, myself, have experienced several supernatural phenomenon, incredible as that may sound, and previously worked for the Catholic Church as an investigator of miracles. One of my colleagues also held such a position, while another is a lovely young woman who previously worked for the Boston PD, and is also the mother of a nine year old son.

Madam, I understand that you’re under a great deal of pressure from those around you, but I want to help, if it is within my power. First and foremost, let me assure you: you are not alone. The ability to foretell the future has been documented in dozens of other cases. The causes are varied but the results are the same, no matter what form they take. The aforementioned Mr. Callan himself has had prophetic dreams on occasion.

Enclosed, please find my business card, with all my information....my home phone number and my cellular are written on the back. I would be most grateful if you’d only grant me an afternoon in which to speak to you and your boys about their visions, I assure you that we will not rest until we’ve come to the root of your problem. Twelve year olds should not have to endure the kinds of visions your children have testified to having...but there is hope, my dear lady.

If you have faith in nothing else...have faith in that.

Best regards,
Alva Keel
SODALITAS QUAERIDO
asinglewordwilldo: (Alva Watching)
With Paul gone, on his way to Rhode Island, Alva was free to retire to his office, at least until Evelyn arrived. Sinking down to sit on the first available surface, he rested his elbows on his knees and let his head fall wearily into his hands.

Doubt...in all his past, all his *life*, it was the one constant he’d learned to adhere to at all costs, and that was the total obliteration of all doubt in all things. It had no bearing on faith, belief, or even trust...only conviction. Even if he could not be certain of a thing, he could not waste his time and energy in doubting himself or others...he simply had to know that he had no answers, believe it with all his soul...be ready to die for the simple truth that he didn’t have a damned clue.

When he heard his mother’s voice among the English ravens in school, doubt had not touched him...he knew he heard that old nickname. He knew he needed more information. He knew he had to find it.

And so the journey began...no doubt, only the certainty that he didn’t know all he needed to. An all-encompassing confidence in all things, even his own flaws, rendered him untouchable. He didn’t second-guess himself, he either proved or disproved his own rationalizations and beliefs, not to mention those of others. That was usually the most entertaining.

For far too long, he’d been certain that interference in the great scheme of things could be a detriment to all involved, especially with the tide shifting as it had been in recent years. That was a lesson he’d learned all too well many years ago, and now again it had been tested with Paul Callan.

His role in things was significant. Crucial...Alva was certain in his heart of hearts that if an apocalyptic event...or, God forbid, the apocalypse itself was eminent, Paul would be a force that could turn the tide in favor, or against humanity.

He thought that objective observation...that remaining passive...was the right thing to do.

But now...now, there was doubt.
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