Celestial of the Prophet

In a world where the paranormal leaves its mark on those destined to find answers, a man strives to seek more from his life after loss and peril.

On a sunny Saturday afternoon at Southmead Mental Institute, in the city of Bristol, which happened to be one of the biggest cities in the United Kingdom, a mental patient—Sagitar Magnus—was seeing his psychologist to assess his mental state.

Sagitar is a young handsome man endowed with long mid-length black hair. Too add to his remarkable look he has left a visage to be admired. He takes care of himself with his enriching curls left on the trim. Seated in front of his psychologist, on the leather seat by the large glass window that revealed a limited spectacle of the city, he began talking about his interests in life. The psychologist, Cassian Tyler, found the conversation with Sagitar quite extraordinary, as he watched him in awe seated two feet away from him.

"I have always found the angels to be an interesting topic for converse. One angel that has always caught my fancy is the angel Lucifer, that old fallen star," Sagitar said as he stared through the window, a view over the houses, from a high rise standpoint.

"Lucifer?" Cassian was puzzled. The conversation was beginning to take a deeper turn. In all the things on earth that Cassian found unrealistic, he wondered why Sagitar found Lucifer interesting.

"Yeah. The light bearer was probably the most interesting angel of all. In the old testament, I think he was basically man's judge and juror but everything took a wrong turn later," says Sagitar, now with his gaze fixed outside on the sky.

"Sagitar, why are you so concerned about angels?" Cassian asked.

Sagitar turned to the Psychologist. "I don't know. They have inspired my work lately. I have been studying them and it's been interesting."

"May I ask, are you, by any chance, religious?" Cassian questioned again.

"No. My parents were though. It is not that I do not believe in God, I am just not the religious type," Sagitar answered.

"So you are agnostic?" Cassian inquired.

"It is too complicated to explain. All I can say is that with each passing day, I feel I am more able to explain the whole thing accurately. I am just a realist," Sagitar replied.

Cassian stared at Sagitar keenly. "Right…Sagitar do you have any idea how you sound?"

"Like I hit my head?" He chuckled. "I guess you can call me crazy," Sagitar replied casually, not giving a care to whatever Cassian thought of him.

"I am not trying to attach that label to you. I am just trying to say…"

Sagitar cuts in, "I know that. You don't need to explain yourself. Everyone attaches themselves to one thing or the other. Whenever they hear something that doesn't bare an attachment, it freaks them out."

Just then, Cassian looked at his watch and was shocked to see that time had gone so fast. "Well, would you look at that, I guess we lost track. It is nearly 2pm. We can end our session here." Cassian elaborated.

The pressured Psychologist rose up from the leather chair to extend a handshake to Sagitar.

Sagitar got up to shake Cassian's hand quickly. He wouldn't hesitate to pause and immediately make his way afterwards toward the exit door.

"Do not forget to call me to book another session. OK?" says Cassian.

The Psychologist remembered how difficult it was to contact his patients, especially Sagitar in particular.

"Yeah…yeah. I know," Sagitar murmured as he shut the door behind him.

He then hurried off as quickly as his legs in a reasonable disciplined state could carry him, with his mind focused on getting to the bus stop. According to Sagitar's permutations, at that present time, which was almost 2pm, if he delayed longer than ten minutes, he would have to wait for another half hour to catch the next bus. Sagitar was not in the mood to wait. The time he had spent with Cassian had drained him. After getting out of the institute, Sagitar began to speed walk. Eventually, he made it to the bus stop three minutes later than he had planned. His calculations were lagging, he had thought he was going to arrive five minutes early. However, just as he got there to take a look at the time, his watch disagreed with him—he had arrived slightly later.

Sagitar smiled and shook his head, well I am late but I hope I didn't miss the bus in the end... It will be like cancer to wait for the next one.

"Excuse me." Sagitar, with a warm smile, motioned towards an old lady who was one of the four people that he encountered at the bus stop. "Has the number eighteen arrived yet?" He asked.

"No. I am also waiting for the number eighteen," she replied.

That's a relief.

"Shouldn't be long then. Thank you." Sagitar retorted. He then joined the wait at the bus stop.

Two minutes later, the bus arrived. Sagitar got on it, right behind the old lady. Reaching in his pocket, his turn to enter came quickly. He brought out his ticket, showed it to the bus driver and proceeded to the back seat by the left side window. This happened to be his favorite spot every time he took the bus.

As the bus began to move, Sagitar drifted off in a daydream. Like a leaf tossed in the wind, his mind began to think about the different areas of his life and how he was not satisfied with how it was all turning out. Eventually, his thoughts rested on the picture he was going to draw next. Sagitar right from his young years enjoyed art through the craft of drawing but as he grew older, his passion followed in line with his talent. Now, he was a grown man and a professional artist. He had done various jobs for a wide variety of companies. Most of his works were front covers for novels, graphic novels, title screens for video games and even character designs. For all who knew him for his work, Sagitar's hands worked magic on the canvas. His greatness was so well received that he once drew the attention of the public eye to fall on him with one of his works that he published on social media called 'humanoid', where he was trying to depict the eventual end of humanity as a fusion of man and machine. That piece left everyone wide-mouthed, in a state of awe. Sagitar, on the other hand, was just having fun. For Sagitar, there was no other source of income beside this work in particular, therefore, for every job he completed, he gave it his best polish.

While Sagitar was still lost in thought, the bus arrived at Downend High Street, close to where the main shops in the area were located. The drive from the bus stop had been on time, without delay. Downend was a specific suburban region of the city of Bristol where Sagitar had lived all his life.

The engine of the bus hissed to a stop, throwing Sagitar out of his reverie. Clumsily, he made his way to the door and was dropped off at the bus stop. Just as he got off the bus, his phone began to ring. Who could this be? Sagitar mused to himself, as the number calling was a strange one and one particularly he did not recognize. He tried to recall if he was supposed to have any appointments but there was no memory of making such a plan.

Sagitar silenced his phone, slipped it into his pocket, choosing to ignore the call. Turning his gaze to his wristwatch, he saw the digital display screen beeping 2:41 pm. It delighted Sagitar's heart that his house was only 15 minutes away, which meant that he was going to arrive home before 3 o'clock. As Sagitar set out, heading towards his home from the bus stop, his phone screamed to life again. To Sagitar, the phone sounded a little louder, prompting him to reluctantly pick the call.

Putting the phone on loudspeaker, Sagitar answered, "Hey, who is this?"

"It's me mate, Roland," the voice from the other end responded.

"Roland? No way! I have not heard from you in forever, flip," Sagitar replied gleefully.

"I know right. How are you anyway?" Roland asked.

"I am fine old friend, things are good." The enthusiasm in Sagitar's voice was being quenched by the thought of the difficult times that overwhelmed him.

Roland sensed the drop in enthusiasm, he sighed and continued. "I heard about your family."

"Oh I see. I knew it wouldn't take too long for the news to get to you even though you're not around," Sagitar muttered.

"Well, you know me, I am always aware of everything," says Roland.

"Yeah I know. Not to worry though. All you need to know is that I am fine, and really. I just got off the bus, heading home now after seeing my psychologist. He is a really cool guy and he is helping me get through this tough time," Sagitar explained.

"Well I am glad you are alright," Roland acknowledged. "I am in Bristol at the moment, visiting my old man. We should catch up tomorrow night at Lloyd's bar. The drinks are on me. For old times' sake. Also, you need to clear your head and have some fun," Roland proposed.

This would affect Sagitar's plans for the week. Though he hadn't been out with a friend for a while and had drifted from his social ties since his recent struggles.

"Err…yeah sure. Why not? It's been ages since I have gone out," Sagitar responded to Roland's proposal.

"So, you are up for it?" Roland asked again.

He needed to be sure that Sagitar wasn't going to all of a suddenly bail after the plans were solidified.

"Yeah. Just call me two hours before we have to meet so I can get changed into something decent then make my way up there. You know how I like to take my time. I don't want to be rushed," Sagitar explained.

"Alright mate. I will call you tomorrow night," Roland replied.

"Sweet. See you tomorrow" Sagitar answered.

"Bye," responded Roland a final time before the line went dead.

The conversation that had been engaged had taken him through the long main road leading into a motorway. By the time he had made sense of his surroundings, he could see he was on course and on the shorter main street that led to his home. Reflecting on the phone call, Sagitar smiled.

And I thought this weekend was going to be boring.

As he kept heading towards his home, he noticed a shrub with some pink flowers at the edge of one of the gardens in the area. Sagitar paused for a brief moment, picked out two rose flowers from the shrub and headed towards his household. However, as he approached, he took a detour to the cemetery, which was on the same main street that would lead him there.

Though a morbid setting by definition, the cemetery was peaceful, devoid of all the chaos that came with life in general. Asides from him, there was no one else there.

Sagitar approached two gravestones, on which the names of his parents—Jesse Magnus and Maureen Magnus—were written. He took the flowers that he had earlier picked. He knelt, and placed one on each gravestone. Sagitar rose, put his hands in his pockets and sighed. I got to tell you, it's awfully lonely without you guys around.

Sagitar's heart weighed heavy. The pain he felt was incomparable to any pain he had ever felt when he thought deeply about their passing. Lifting his head to stare at the deep blue sky, he took in a moment of silence to get his mind cleared of all the woes that had befallen him. Sadly, his parents who he loved dearly had died really young and gruesomely so.

One thing that delighted Sagitar's heart, for which he was grateful, was that he had inherited his parent's household. Even more so, the mortgage had already been paid off making him a fortunate young man. He could relish in the memories of family life and enjoy the luxury given.

Sagitar sighed and whispered, rest easy, beloved father, caring mother. He exited the cemetery and continued his walk home. Passing two roads, Sagitar finally arrived at the entrance of his street. In proceeding towards his household, he brought out his brown leather wallet from his pocket. Inside it was about seventy pounds.

I guess there's no need to withdraw money for tomorrow, Sagitar thought.

Arriving at the front of his house, he unzipped his wallet and brought out his house keys. He inserts the main one into the key hole and the door crackles open slightly. Sagitar pushed it open entering into the house. After shutting it, he took off his trainers then looked into the living room. In a quick moment, nausea gripped him. He began to have flashbacks of the traumatic event that happened in the house three months ago. Vivid images of how his parents' mangled bodies were exposed began to replay in his mind all over again.

Experiencing the happening once again like a reflection, Sagitar delves back into a drift of thought that mirrored his feelings three months prior. He had arrived home from the local shops. As he walked into the living room, he found his murdered parents on the floor. Shockingly, it was a bloody site with his father's body placed across his mother's body to form the shape of a cross. The lifeless corpses of his parents had been carved open with a sharp object, and more shockingly, his father's head had almost been completely severed off. The scenery of his parents' death had seemed like it was a satanic ritual of some sort. At the time, he took immediate action. Sagitar dialled 911, explained the situation and within a short while the emergency unit arrived to witness the scene after a brief police investigation. In a bid to never have to relive that moment and time frame, Sagitar had refurnished the house—changed the carpet, painted the wall and bought new furniture. Beyond just refurnishing the house, the incident had made Sagitar very alert and prepared for any surprise attacks. He was so prepared that he always kept a bat behind the living room door.

Alert, ready and with a club in hand, Sagitar headed to all the rooms in the household to ensure there was no one inside to ambush him. After checking the last room—the master bedroom, he gave a sigh of relief.

Unlike before, Sagitar had not been working so much lately. Finding regular work for an artist had become a difficult task. However, he was not in desperate need of money. His parents had left an inheritance for him. The money that he had from his parent's life insurance, savings and the fact that he inherited a property with the mortgage paid off had set him up for an easy life. With all he had, Sagitar was advised, by his psychologist—Cassian, to get a day job on the side that may help to keep him occupied socially. Though, this was already something that was in motion but through work from home. Beyond just being an artist, Sagitar was also a writer—a skill he started working on before the death of his parents.

Upstairs, at the corridor of his house, Sagitar looked into the mirror located near the staircase. He was clearly bored and it was written all over his face. The spark of excitement to see his old friend Roland had withered his work ethic. Leaving the mirror to an unshadow, he walked into his bedroom, placed his wallet and mobile phone on his desk, where his laptop rested. Then he took off his T-shirt and flung it on a chair at the corner of the room.

Sagitar dove into his bed and quickly covered himself with the duvet. All he desired to do was to remain there silently. He had no interest in doing anything, not today. As much as he felt the pressure of crafting a new artistic masterpiece, writing a new article or chatting on social media, all he wanted to do was just to remain in his bed, thinking up ideas, till he drifted away in sleep.

Staring at the ceiling, ideas came into his mind, becoming a reality that would concern his next illustrations. The discussion he had with Cassian reminded him of his plans. He thought to himself, Lucifer, the light bearer. Sagitar smiled, as he buried his mind in the thought of how beautiful his next illustration could be. As he kept brainstorming, his thoughts floated off, carried on the waves of a much desired sleep.