Unto God….

 

It was the day when she at last threw off her mantle of grief, that she came alive. Three years after her husband of 15 years died of a heart attack. A sudden departure that shattered her as if she was fragile glass; she never thought that death would visit people of his age. She felt lost and afraid, as he had been her anchor since she was 20 years old, and out of the orphanage only two years.  

But that morning, three years later, she woke up and for the first time saw how bright the sun shone through her window, heard the breeze rustling the leaves of the mango tree outside, and how the murmurs of leaves rubbing together sounded like a quiet gentle conversation by people unseen.

She got up and for the first time looked at herself in the mirror and smiled. She had a beautiful body, un-scarred by stretch marks and her breasts pert and proud.

She decided that she would take up her friend’s invitation to go out for dinner that weekend. Her friend had been pestering her for months to go out and enjoy life again. Go out with friends and meet new people, come on it’s been three years…her girlfriend had said, and not once but repeatedly.

She wore her tiny red dress, just a sheath that covered her from under her armpit to four inches above her knees, with a small red handbag to match. She felt free, she felt beautiful and for the first time in three years she felt alive.

She walked out of the house and sauntered towards the car-park where her friend was waiting in her car.

Suddenly, pain hit her head from behind and darkness fell.

She opened her eyes and saw a star-studded sky. She could not move, her body didn’t seem to respond to her will to get up or sit up. She just lied there, on spongy ground, screaming within but couldn’t utter a sound.

A hooded figure knelt down near her. He smelled like roses and ashes. She wanted to cry out but she could not even summon a whimper.

He spoke

It is God’s will
for thou shall not suffer
a witch to live  
I still thy heart
thus thou shalt not raise
a false cry
thy hands shall not
with the wicked
be an unrighteous witness
thus, eternal sleep
I grant thee
Succour
from sinning
no more shall thou transgress
death I pay upon thee
not for mine own
but for the salvation
of thy soul
this chalice I offer thee
not for thy lips
but for thy throat
unto the gods of darkness...
Jube, Domine, benedicere
Inclinate vos
ad benedictionem

She felt the sharpness of steel on her neck and the stars showered down from the skies.


*this write was posted in a competition here. thank you for reading*