GENESIS (GODS CHAIN) Read Free

stood silently, rough and dry, ancient and true , sentinels .
    The principal primeval rock was encircled by other sizable boulders , and all seemed to challeng e on-comers, or so Scott imagined. T he young man thought it odd that he imagined the i r presence, the ir ever- read iness to burst to life and crush anyone that might wander th eir way . How old and long they had been standing there, centuries maybe, millennia likely .... No one knew, no known written words told wh en these old stones had first come to be . The ancient monoliths had always been there ... .
    In the twilight of October , the days were coming short. The light already beg a n to fade , casting a yellow -orange tinge over the once rich - green pastures. The treetops swayed to and fro , gathering momentum, preparing themselves for another stormy evening. Near and far the branches of trees could be heard in the distance , creaking in unison , protesting the wind . Occasionally one hear d the mighty groan as a branch was pressed to far...and then snapped . Scott shivered .
    Scot t ’ s home was one of the village’s original cottages , constructed by m aster stonemason’s centuries ago and built to last . T hose old stones w ould hold any storm at bay.
    The boy turned his head and looked up at his bedroom wall, towards a mounted , framed photograph that hung there . It was a photograph of his older brother Christopher . Scott’s mind began to drift to a much happ ier time, when he and his brother played together in the streets of Ayr .
    Christopher had flown the nest at the beginning of this year and had not been in contact with his family for several months. T he last they’d heard, he was gallivanting around in South America performing w ork for some multinational research company, exploring the rainforest for new species of insects ... .
    Mmmm, what was it called again? A funny name ... oh I can’t remember . S omething to do with bugs , anyway , thought Scott , quite perplexed with himself . I t was a stupid name, he thought, trying hard to remember. The more he tried , the more the memory became like water in cupped hands — dribbl ing away . Scott was still infuriated that his brother had gone abroad again . M um still needed him to be here! Didn’t he realise it ?
     
    Scott missed his older brother, a lot . T hey used to have such great times, wrestling like the pros ! Why d id we have to grow up?
    The photograph pinned up on the wall was one of Christopher wearing camouflaged trousers and similar styled vest top . W hat a p oser! Scott smiled to himself , wishing that he could be more like his brother. Christopher had always been photogenic —his angular features gave him a kind of rough , model appearance and his somewhat long , marine - styled black haircut, fashioned with thin tramlines , display ed openly a degree of vanity very unlike the papal cloth that he so worshipped. His tall brother held a large spear in one hand and a wide-brimmed green camouflaged hat in the other. Proudly he grinned from ear to ear! A natural pioneer, Chris was truly in his element in the Amazon.
    His photograph was set against a background of dense greenery with lines of large , fat t ree tru n ks . Long sweeping vines and thick creepers cover ed everything! The l ush green and brown foliage was so ubiquitous that it almost grew out in th e picture in a cascade of coloured flower s . The picture felt somehow alive!
    Scott ’s bedroom walls were painted light blue and plastered with posters of his favourite football team interspersed between posters of w restling h ero e s and c omputer games. There was a small television and an old game console sitting in one corner and a bookshelf with his magazines and several advanced school books on engineering science in the other. The rest of the room was a complete mess — clothes l a y on the floor, abandoned after weeks of wear, causing no end of anguish for his mother.
    “Scott!” shouted his mother .