Compassion

Photo by Casey Allen on Unsplash

A single-lane road stretches far into the depths of the mountain pass. The headlights swivel in the suffocating darkness, piercing the road ahead as the engine roars and a loud hum vibrates through the barren highlands.

In the picturesque scene emerges a deadly scenario.

The car speeds up, and its movements turn erratic and out of control.

In a blur of motion, the car flips and smashes into the iron barracks that separate the abyss from the narrow road winding uphill in a circular motion. As the barrack buckles, the overturned car plummets down the cliff and into the void.

What’s intact of the wrecked car is the ominous headlights still switched on, like a token of what has transpired in the witching hour. But it too soon dims and plunges everything into darkness.

The driver’s seat unlocks and swings open seconds later. A severed hand tumbles out from the gap and lands on the ground – neatly cut, perfectly flat to be the craftsmanship of the crash. Following it is the swollen head of a person with grimy hair shrouding the unrecognisable face full of shredded, cooked flesh.

A ring with the initials ‘F.H.’ is stuck on the ring finger, teetering between the tip of the finger and the damp ground threatening to swallow it.

Somewhere in the distance, at the mountain peaks, a griffon vulture croaks and unfurls its majestic wings towards the carcass. It descends near the crash site and observes the low moans of another passenger pleading for help.

It approaches the severed hand and prods it with its beak, testing its edibility before ripping it apart piece by piece in a haunting tune, consuming each shred after months of enduring starvation in the mountain ridges.

The moans weaken before ceasing altogether.

The vulture grabs the ulna, now stripped of flesh, and hurls it further down the cliff, before approaching the cooked head, ready to devour it, when it retreats as the grimy hair mixed with blood obstructs its effort.

It seizes the radius with the hand still attached and soars to the heavens.

The flesh on the radius and hand sustains its chicks, which stretch their beaks wide upon seeing the vulture return to the nest perched at the top of the mountain. The happy occasion soon draws other vultures in the area, and they descend towards the crash site to satiate their hunger.

One of the chicks, happily gnawing at the ring finger now stripped of flesh too, then snatches the ring. The vulture growls a warning as the chick’s about to swallow it, and the ring settles to the bottom of the crowded nest.

In the distance, a sudden din pierces the air and swells with each passing second.

The vulture hops to the edge of the nest and peers down at the crash site as the other vultures squawk and scatter to the cadence of an approaching engine.

It hushes its chicks and dives into the night sky, hovering above the mountain road and the broken iron barracks as a vehicle skids to a stop just inches from it.

As the headlights dim, a neatly dressed figure in a suit steps out of the car. He adjusts his tie and crouches in front of the broken barracks, peering down into the crash site.

The vulture tracks the stranger as he descends the cliff until he reaches the overturned car and yanks open the driver’s seat door. Another head rolls out on top of the cooked head, but this one is attached to the rest of its body, still restrained by a seatbelt.

The man hoists the head, studying the woman still alive despite the force of the crash. He then shoves her back onto the driver’s seat and flicks the engine on and off until a loud bang erupts.

Both the man and the woman ignite.

Watching this unfold, the vulture is blasted several feet into the air by the force of the explosion and barely recovers control.

The dancing flames consume everything in their path and reduce it to ash before they vanish as abruptly as they appear. The vulture returns to the crash site as the last flames smoulder out and creep closer.

The overturned car is burned down to nothing, but the strange man remains, unscathed by the crackling flames or the explosion of the engine. He unfastens the lifeless, badly scorched woman and cradles her in his arms. As he does so, he locks eyes with the shaken but curious vulture.

He kneels with the woman in his arms and motions for it to come closer. The vulture doesn’t budge, too afraid and on high alert to heed a creature it has no recollection of ever seeing before. Seeing this, the man rises again and passes by it.

The lifeless woman’s white dress billows in the whistling wind, like it has a life of its own. It’s at this point the vulture notices the man’s hand, adorned with the familiar ring on his ring finger. But before it can react, the bride and her groom dissolve into dust.

A newspaper clipping plummets between its legs then, carried by the troubling wind surging and howling with unprecedented speed. On the headline, these words emerge, but the vulture deciphers nothing except the happy smiles of the newlywed couple:

News of the abduction and subsequent murder of the young couple has shaken an entire nation. The bride’s stepfather, Henry Woods, is accused of child abuse, rape of a minor, and the abduction of the newlywed couple in his absence.

The police are searching for the motive behind this horrific case that has tragically claimed the life of… Any tip on the suspect’s whereabouts and the location of Hanna Woods' remains are important for the ongoing investigation.

Chief officer, Jensen McCarthy, implores the public to help them lay the young couple to rest and provide solace to the remaining family members. Authorities are now searching a seven-mile radius around the stepfather's last known phone signal…

Remains of human flesh and body parts are also confirmed as one of the findings in the stepfather’s apartment, along with the missing Ford 2014 Mustang… For more information, turn to page 4.

The vulture snatches the newspaper clipping and carries it back to its nest. It wraps the ring with the newspaper and lifts off from the jagged mountains, heading towards the nearest town. It doesn’t grasp what emotions drive it, but it can’t shake the feeling that it must deliver the ring.

As it glides over the city square, it spots a milling crowd of people protesting. It perches on a nearby truck and studies the people marching, holding up placards with something written on them. It doesn’t comprehend what the humans are saying, but it senses the urgency and the need for closure.

Amidst the crowd of people, it then locks eyes with a young girl. She points at it, desperately tugging at her mother’s clothes to get her attention. The vulture releases the wrapped ring and ascends back to the welkin, but it doesn’t depart.

The girl retrieves the ring and newspaper clipping and then shows it to her mother. The woman pauses her shrieking and asks the girl something. The girl gestures to the vulture again – this time, the woman spots it too, and her eyes widen.

The vulture croaks eagerly, striving to make its voice heard through the crowd of people. The woman entrusts her daughter to another woman nearby and then climbs into her car down the road on the other side of the city square.

She follows the vulture to the site of the crash.

As the vulture ascends back to the mountain peak and joins its chicks, it collects the bones stripped of flesh scattered around the nest and brings them down to the woman, who has collapsed near what remains of the car and the scorched body of the missing bride in her white dress – crying.

The two mothers then share a knowing smile, and the vulture rises to never return. 

Voice of God - Part VII [Final Part]

Photo by Mateus Campos Felipe on Unsplash

“Ms Carlton…? What’s the matter?”

I tried to contain my tears, but it was easier said than done. 

“They… they’re going to—these people, they… I don’t know where to begin, I… I just want to get away from this place but… but…”

“I’ll come pick you up, okay? Do you think you can meet me in the woods? Ms Carlton?”

I shook my head. “No, I- I can’t. They—you don’t understand, they’re…”

“I’m calling the police.” He took a short pause. “It’s… Everything’s gonna be fine, okay?”

“… Okay.”

He hung up.

I packed my stuff in haste and set out into the darkness.

I had two options: I either did as Nath told me and played God or made a break for it and wished upon the stars that the police find Vera before it was too late.

The woods were as lonely as I recalled.

Closing in on the spot where I met the retired journalist for the first time, I got the feeling that someone watched over me.

I looked around me in the murk, trying to discern something – anything – out of the ordinary.

This delayed me for about half a minute or so.

When I noticed the flashlights to the right, I hurried towards the roadway only to baulk.

David Chapman was there.

But he was not alone.

The guy I saw in the church, the one who was with Nath, was right beside him.

They were whispering; they were looking for me.

As the beam of blinding light pointed at me, I cowered behind a clump of bushes and held my breath.

The duo neared.

I was losing my mind trying to figure out what was going on.

That was when I overheard their bizarre conversation and knew the police were not on their way.

“You think she figured it out?”

The journalist, “No, she sounded clueless. She must be on her way; I’m sure.”

“What do we do with her when she comes?”

“I’ll have to ask Mary that, but we need to find her first. Here, hold the flashlight. I’ll call and see if she’s on her way.”

I fetched my phone and tried to power it off. My hands, however, lost their functionality.

I shook out of control, in a cold sweat, but my hands did not move the way I wanted them.

I switched the thing off at the eleventh hour and took a deep breath.

But my relief was short-lived. 

My heart sank and my breathing became increasingly shallow and irregular. 

“Did you hear that?” asked the guy.

“No, what did you hear?”

“I’m not sure. I keep hearing things these past few days. It must be the spirits…”

The flashlight turned direction.

The duo disappeared into the night.

I turned my phone on and put it on mute, then called the person who dropped me off here.

The chauffeur.

It was past the wee hours.

He did not pick up.

I left a desperate voicemail and asked the driver to come pick me up as soon as he received the message and call the police.

I was going back.

It was no use in calling the police at this point.

The retired journalist and the others would manipulate anyone who stepped foot inside this place. I was certain. 

Nath’s words rang in my ears.

He said there were more people like him, people who believed Mary was a fake prophet pretending to be the voice of God.

It was written in their Gospels that I would challenge her throne, that I would denounce her as the voice of Satan.

And… that was exactly what I was gonna do. Did I even have any other option? 

If doing this meant I could keep Vera safe, then I would join this wicked game of pretend this very second.

I returned to the gates of Hell.

The night was vivid.

All the villagers gathered at the dilapidated church for the ceremony – this sacrificial ritual that would claim Vera’s life.

I felt the rusty, cold doorknobs in my hands before I flung the door open and made my way through the aisle.

I locked gazes with Mary whose entire face was drenched in crimson in front of the altar. Before her, the catafalque stood, its lid partially open.

I felt the numerous gazes fixed on me yet all I could see was the distorted face of this person, who called herself the descendant of Mary Magdalene and the voice of God. 

My eyes wandered to the catafalque where I left Vera to her demise.

A pang of ache hit my chest.

I shifted my attention to Mary once more. Neither of us said a word. Then I turned to the mass, to these lost spirits who were ready to ditch their God for a new one.

I raised my hands high in the air; I didn’t have to say a single word. 

Nath stepped forwards and kneeled before me. The rest of the congregation Mary and those before her manipulated all these years followed suit.

I turned to face Mary again. As I did that, she charged at me with a crowbar.

I did not budge; I just shut my eyes.

A hoard of footfalls emerged from all directions and on either side of me, rushing forwards like brutes and screaming their heads off.

When I reopened my eyes, I saw a pile of lunatics on top of one another at the altar, tearing Mary apart and ripping her into pieces. Alive.

I backed away and almost lost my footing at the macabre sight.

My heartbeat picked up.

I grabbed the crowbar on the floor and pulled off the rest of the nails on the catafalque.

I broke off; the tears threatening to spill.

The poor thing greeted me with a stiff expression on her pallid child’s face. Her eyes shot open, her cheeks hollow, and her heartbeat no longer beating.

I snatched her out from her tomb and carried her out into the darkness from the backdoor.

I locked gazes with Nath as I rushed out yet he did not follow me.

But his face looked… How should I put it? Peculiar, like a wolfish grin unlike any other. 

It made my blood run cold.

I shook the dire thoughts away and plodded through the graveyard and took a detour to the woods.

David Chapman and the other guy weren’t prowling around.

I ran with all my might.

It was during this plight that I noticed that I sprinted in circles.

I had run in over ten minutes and I had not reached the end of the forested area yet. 

I broke off and put the lifeless girl on the ground.

She had no pulse; I knew that, but I still tried to shake her back to life.

She did not respond.

I stooped over her cold body and broke into tears, doubling over and crying my heart out.

It was over. Everything… was over. I came too late. I… I failed Vera. 

Even if I magically found a way out of this place – somehow – I would still have to live with the insight that I failed to save Vera when I had the opportunity.

Something seized my arm.

I stopped breathing.

I stared down at the child whose black eyes now stared right through me.

A hint of a harrowing grin showed up on her pale lips, and her nails dug into my skin.

I gasped and crawled away from her.

Vera, or whatever this was, got on four legs with her head twisted 180 degrees, and stared at me with her upside-down eyes.

I stumbled on something and looked up.

An identical grin plastered on my late mother’s ripped lips met my distorted face. 

I stopped breathing and forced myself up.

I did not know where I was running towards or in what direction; I just ran.

I only stopped when a sudden beam of light blinded my vision.

I covered my eyes. When I reopened them, I was back in the church.

The shredded and mutilated body of Mary lay in front of the altar I stood on.

The mass hailed me, rocking in place and praying like the mad people they were.

They were beside themselves.

Nath sat me down on an adorned throne in front of a disturbing painting of Mary as the Devil.

And he said something only I could hear amidst the chaos, something that would forever haunt me.

“You just killed the Voice of God.”

Voice of God - Part VI

Image by Michael Kauer from Pixabay

I sneaked out into the chilling night air the day after meeting David Chapman and somehow found myself in front of the crumping parish church. 

The godly structure arrested me as soon as I was close enough to feel its towering height, eye-like and menacing windows and the piercing tower obscured by dark clouds.

Unbeknownst to myself, I came to a standstill and held my breath.

It was locked.

I tried to budge it open with force twice, but it would not open and reveal the darkness it brooded on.

Thinking I had at least tried and that I now ought to return to the school grounds, I shifted my gaze to the churchyard teeming with stale and grim gravestones as far as my eyes could see.

Then I reasoned there must be a second exit or a hidden entrance from the back to the graveyard due to the nature of the beat-down and antique structure dating from the 1800s.

With these thoughts in the back of my mind, I set off to the churchyard where the undead lay still in their dark and filthy tombs made of sin. 

An earthly odour filled the entire yard. The soil was damp, although it hadn’t poured down and painted the premises dark.

I moseyed through the forlorn gravestones; most of them were dated two generations before I was even born.

Time stood still.

I was in a Timeslip of a kind and each step led me farther from my own world, although I could swear the gloomy night sky was still the same.

By the time I found the backdoor, I had forgotten why I had come here in the first place.

For a mere second, I thought of returning but knew I could not turn a blind eye to the sinister things happening in Dew Shire.

I found a rock and hammered it against the bolted door repeatedly until it unlocked.

A breeze of cold air chilled me to the bone with the grating of the rusted and stale backdoor which had not been used for ages.

I found myself next to the altar where I witnessed Mary’s unfazed speech a few days ago.

But this was hardly what caught my attention.

Far from view and the numerous rows of benches to the left of the altar was an underground passage. It was narrow and suffocating.

My insides turned upside down as I took the flight down from the creaking stairs only to break off.

I was not alone.

At first, the voices were faint and seemed to echo all over the place, but then they grew louder.

It was then that I saw two figures coming down from the second floor; I recognised one of the voices immediately.

It belonged to Nath.

The other voice, however, was unfamiliar.

I rushed to the closest row and hid as the two men, much to my surprise, made it to the altar and then entered the underground passage.

There was a hint of distraught in Nath’s guttural voice, and although I did not know the reason behind his distress, I knew it had something to do with Vera’s sudden disappearance.

By the time it was too late to regret it, I stood up and followed the two men inside.

But they were nowhere to be found as I entered the hidden chamber made of stones and seemed to be stuck in a time long since forgotten.

The first thing I noticed was the scent of incense, much like the ones I smelled at Mary’s home – only this time it was much more intense, almost thicker and more suffocating in this small, enclosed space.

Then I noticed the catafalques all around me and a shiver shot up my spine, unable to focus or wrap my head around what emerged right before me in all directions. 

Just as I forgot about the two men, their approaching voices reminded me of their presence and I got into a state of panic.

My first thought was to flee the underground chamber, but my eyes shifted focus and I found myself dashing towards another hidden passage inside the chamber in the opposite direction of the approaching voices.

That was when I found yet another catafalque, but this one was new and, much to my surprise, not nailed.

I opened it just in case Nath and the other guy approached and I would have a place to hide when I jolted back at the sight that met me.

The white, empty and expressionless stare of a pair of eyes.

I must have gasped, there was no way to tell if I had or not, but I noticed right then and there that the approaching voices faded away all of a sudden.

Without realising whose eyes I locked gazes with, I squeezed into the catafalque and closed the lid just enough to fill my lungs with fresh air.

A string of light was all that entered through the gap I purposely left, but it was enough to help me discern whose cold body I lay next to.

A shiver shot up my spine at the morbid realisation that I now held onto the corpse of the very little girl I had come to find.

I covered my mouth and stifled yet another escaping gasp.

“How sure are you about this? Mary doesn’t like surprises. You know better than anyone…”

It was Nath’s voice.

My quivering eyes shifted to the gap as soon as I heard him.

“It came from here, I’m sure. I heard footsteps, I tell you! Why would I lie?”

“Must be the spirits then,” Nath said and added before the other could interject. “Surely, you don’t fear what’s already dead and gone with the unforgiven wind?”

There was a short pause after this.

The person with Nath remained hushed and wouldn’t respond to this.

My heart skipped a beat, and I fixed my darting eyes on the gap as Nath broke the prevailing silence.

“See, the lid’s open. We just need to nail it so the spirits won’t escape and play us for fools. Gimme a hand, will ya?”

“Don’t think that’s a good idea…”

“Well, you’d rather be alone with the spirits, then?”

Whoever was with Nath backed away. I could almost hear the frantic beat of his heart as he replied.

“I’m not touching that thing! You take care of this yourself, and…” The stranger paused as if he heard something out of the ordinary, before carrying on as if nothing happened. “… make sure it stays closed.”

The man left; I was sure.

There were no more noises for a while and I thought of sneaking out, when I realised someone was moving about in the silence yet did not approach the catafalque.

It was during this time that something unexpected occurred. The cold child who I thought was dead came alive.

My flickering eyes fraught with horror widened at the sight of the flailing child struggling to escape her ill fate.

Too stunned to move at first, I barely covered Vera’s lips and let my eyes wander to the gap where the string of light now was obscured.

Vera scratched me all over, unaware of why she was stuck in the dark and panicking. 

The lid closed and left both of us in pitch-black darkness. 

Vera stopped moving just as suddenly as she had come to life – turning cold and still anew.

Then I heard it: the clanger of something being nailed down.

How long I had been inside the catafalque I did not know.

At one point I lost all senses and perception of time and place and could only focus on my strained breathing.

Vera had not come back to life during this time.

I thought I heard the hissing of a snake, the chatter of laughter and the image of a babbling spring now and then.

After a while, however, I realised that all these hallucinations were nothing but the products of my deteriorating mind in this enclosed, tight and narrow space shrouded in shadows. 

By the time I gave up all attempts to break free, the lid opened and I stared blankly into a pair of green eyes I recognised.

I was hauled down onto the cold stone ground.

My eyes, which had adjusted to the darkness, were a blurry mess and it hurt to keep my eyes fully open and exposed to the dim-lit surroundings.

When I regained my vision and met Nath’s eyes, I recalled the little girl still inside the catafalque and forced myself up despite having no strength left in my body.

I could hardly stand up, but I pushed the lid aside with all my might and pulled the child out.

Even this time, as I held Vera in my arms and brought her out into the light, her body was as cold as ice. There was not a single sign of life in her.

Yet I somehow knew this was far from the truth. Vera was still alive. How, I did not know and had no way of explaining under these macabre circumstances, but I was certain.

I let the girl rest on my thighs and gently shook her back to life. Her cold body did not move and her eyes did not meet mine even for a second, but I saw her bruised fingers twitch at my desperate pleas.

This was enough for me.

As I was about to carry the girl out and flee the chamber, a figure calling my name made his presence known once again.

I flinched at the realisation of his existence and picked up my pace when he said something I could not ignore.

I came to a standstill and stared down at Vera. Her pallid face was stiff and blue, just like the undead.

But this child was not dead – dying, yes, that was obvious – but far from it as long as I nurtured her back to life.

I knew every second was worth this little child’s life and that we had to get out of here, out of Dew Shire, as soon as possible.

But his words were too difficult to ignore.

I, albeit unwillingly, turned to face him, and when he did not elaborate on his words, I pressed on.

“What… what are you, people?”

“We are human, just like you…”

“You expect me to believe—”

“Don’t you know,” he began, “that human beings are far more wicked than any other entity?”

I looked down at the poor thing.

Although I agreed, I wasn’t about to confirm Nath.

He, instead of telling me the truth he promised, kept beating around the bush as if to gain time for whatever wicked lie he intended to tell me.

I was not going to let him do this.

“What’s going around in this place? What were you gonna do to Vera?”

He briefly dropped his head. “And if I tell you everything, will you let that child go?”

“No! Never!”

“Then I can’t tell you what you want to know.”

“She’s just a child!” My voice cracked; the thought of abandoning a helpless child was enough to make me see red. “Vera, she’s… she’s just a child, for God’s sake! What did she ever do to you people—”

“Let’s say you bring Vera with you and flee this place, and then what? She’ll just be replaced by another child! Do you think you can save them all?”

“From… from what?” I asked. “From what should I save them – if that’s what I have to?”

“You don’t get it, do you? Saving them is beside the point here! You can’t save her, not like this!” He paused upon seeing my distorted face and softened his voice. “Listen, I know this sounds crazy, but… let the child go. That’s the only way you can save her…”

“No, I’m not gonna—”

Nath punched the wall.

“I’m telling you the way to save her, don’t I! Can’t you just… just trust me this once?”

“Trust you…?” A bitter smirk played on my lips. “Then give me something I can believe; tell me what you’re hiding.”

He rubbed his face; his antsy eyes fixed on the child I carried close to my bosom.

His flickering gaze then met mine as if he noticed how I studied him at that very moment and broke out into cold sweat.

He was desperate in his pleas; he wanted me to put Vera back into the catafalque.

“Listen, I- I can’t tell you anything before you do as I say, all right? I’m not…” He rubbed his face again, which turned pale and he wheezed as if he was stuck inside a catafalque himself and couldn’t breathe. “I’m not playing mind games, okay? I’m not trying to fool you, I just… Please, you gotta listen to me before it’s—”

“Nath…?”

We both turned towards the sudden voice echoing from the other side of the passage and the larger chamber.

It belonged to the man who was with Nath, I was sure of this and for a second I thought I had met my doom.

But Nath did not respond to the man looking for him, neither did he ask the other for help.

Instead, he remained silent.

I stared at the helpless child thinking this was the end of us, when the voice became fainter and then disappeared for good.

I caressed the poor thing and noted that she regained some colour on her cheeks.

Then I… put her back into the darkness.

I did not trust Nath, of course, I did not, how could I? But he just let go of a perfect opportunity to get rid of me and he did not take it.

It made me wonder whether there was any truth to the words he said.

He let out a sigh of relief and collapsed on his knees, rocking back and forth as if he were a toddler trying to soothe himself from a looming danger.

“Why are you like this?”

He stopped rocking and looked at me from where he stood on both knees.

For a second, it looked as if he had forgotten I was there and tried to wrap his head around how I had come to find him in this dismal state.

“What… do you think of Mary?”

I frowned. Didn’t he ask this question already? At the same time, I could tell that he didn’t actually want to ask me this very question, only that it was the closest thing to whatever lingered on the tip of his tongue.

I did not respond.

I thought nothing of Mary.

During my short-lived career, I had seen my fair share of peculiar people and Mary was one of the sanest people I had crossed paths with even if I did not want to confess to this at the time.

What I could not deny however was the way she pulled people in and the way her sweet, honeyed voice made everyone around her let their guard down.

It dawned on me then that this must be the reason the villagers listened and heeded her every word as if she was delaying the words of God Himself.

Immediately after this train of thought, I recalled what the children told me about their Gospel. I don’t even know why this thought occurred to me, but it did.

And before I knew it, those singular words escaped from my lips even before I became aware of their existence in my dismal mind.

“She’s… she’s the voice of God?”

Nath, horrified by the nature of my sudden confession, stood up and backed away as if he had seen a phantom.

“How—” He stammered, trying to form words and clear his mind all at the same time. “Did you just… No, it’s not possible! Yet you…”

“Is this why you call her that – Mary Magdalene?”

“Not only that,” he confided in me. “There’s more to her name than you can ever imagine.”

“Then enlighten me.”

“How well do you know your Gospel, Ms Carlton, that’s all it boils down to…”

“I have never been religious, I’m afraid. I only know what my mother taught me two decades ago.” Then added before he could reply. “Why’s this so significant?”

“Do you believe in God?”

I pulled a half-hearted smile despite the circumstances.

“As I mentioned earlier, I have never been religious despite my upbringing.”

“That’s not a reply,” Nath said and rephrased his question.

I frowned.

“Do you believe in the good and evil?”

“I already answered that…”

He paused for a few seconds as if to make sure I understood everything he said and left no stone unturned in my attempts to answer these questions he was asking instead of giving me the truth I sought.

“But you said she was the voice of God. What made you think that?”

“I…” I didn’t know what to say. Why this kind of thought popped up in my head, I couldn’t say even if I wanted to. 

“Have you considered then that she could be the voice of the Devil instead?”

“What?” He didn’t respond to this. I briefly looked away to gather my thoughts. This was getting ridiculous yet the person in front of me was dead serious. “As in the Devil disguised as God’s voice, is that what you mean? That she’s pretending to relay the voice of God?”

“Something like that, yes. But she wasn’t the first of her blood who started this game of pretend as a false prophet.”

“False prophet?”

“Mary Magdalene was the first. She tricked a great many Christians, saying she conveyed the voice of God, and in her footsteps followed her descendants.”

I smirked without meaning to. I couldn’t wrap my head around the nonsense I was hearing. Had these people gone bonkers or was I too abstruse for my own good to believe in these fairytales disguised as gospels? 

“So, let me get this right: you’re saying that Mary Magdalene, the first of her kind that is, was pretending to relay the message of God? And that,” I paused to gather my thoughts, “she’s in fact relaying the voice of the Devil?”

He nodded without wasting any time. 

“She’s been living off of these lies, her Gospels that is, since the dawn of time! She whispers evil and won’t stop at nothing!” As if to make sure I got everything right, he paused shortly before continuing in that same maniacal voice that made me shudder. “And I’m afraid only you can stop her…”

“Me…?”

“It’s written in the Gospels, Ms Carlton! It was prophesied that you’d one day arrive in Dew Shire, destroy the Gospels and save us!”

“That’s—”

“Have you never wondered why you don’t look like your mother?” he interrupted me.

I knitted my brows upon hearing this. He pressed on without waiting for me to respond.

“Seeing how you look at me right now, you must have wondered, after all…”

“This… this is getting—”

 “She’s not your mother, is she? Not the one who gave birth to you, that is.”

I briefly dropped my head. David Chapman’s voice rang in my head as he recounted the fate of Enis Fair and how her offspring was never found.

A pang of ache spread from the deepest chamber of my heart to my fingertips, and I backed away without being aware of it, horrified and beyond myself at this realisation. 

It then hit me that it wasn’t Dew Shire, which lured me into this trap but my own mother, whose fate I once heard as a child, and then as an adult from the very journalist who had last seen her alive.

But how was all of this possible? Why was I of all people prophesied to bring an end to the false prophesies? Just why…?

How would I even stand up against someone who whispered the sweet tongue of the Devil and brought the entire world to her feet with a single gesture?

“Why… why me?” I asked, unable to clear my harrowing thoughts and let my doubts put to rest. “I don’t believe in this nonsense, I never will, so why me? Why am I mentioned in the Gospels?”

“Mary’s mother, the prophet and former Mary Magdalene, let you live the day your mother was murdered. They ripped you out of her and you were brought up as the rest of us but everything changed when you became six years old.

“It was prophesied that you’d one day grow up and declare yourself a prophet to destroy the voice of God. You were ordered to be killed just like your mother, Enis Fair.

“But your mother, the woman who brought you up, fled with you the night they came for your head. I was ten years old at the time and my memory is no better than yours but I clearly remember you.

“And I have waited for you all this time, we all have. I’m not the only one who sees through the lies of the Devil and wants to break free. There are more of us who no longer want Mary around.”

“You’ve been waiting for me?” I could hardly believe what I was hearing.

Nothing made sense.

I was to declare myself a prophet to fool people? Then again, if all of this was true and these people really believed these things then—I lifted my eyes off the ground as Nath spoke once more.

“Please, help us! No, you must help us!”

“I don’t even know how!” I began, unsure of how to explain myself to this person who truly believed I was his saviour.

“I don’t know how to help you.”

“There’ll be a ritual tomorrow tonight.” He shifted his eyes to the catafalque.

“We hold a ritual every ten to fifteen years and sacrifice one of our own for the Second Coming. Vera’s parents pleaded with Mary to have her.”

“What do you mean—”

“She’s going to be killed in front of the altar,” he began, “we’re all going to eat a part of her to honour Mary and pray that her bloodline never dry up.”

“What in the—you’ve done this before?”

He shook his head. “This will be my first. Our last sacrifice failed since your mother fled with you.”

“How can I trust you? For all I care, you’re telling me all of this to gain my trust and then lure me to my death.”

“You… just have to take my word for it.” He looked around himself, fidgeting and anxious. “We need to go now! Mary’s gonna be here any second! She shouldn’t see us here!”

I shifted my eyes to the catafalque, where the poor child slept soundly, unaware of what was going on around her. 

“Are you going to nail it?” I already knew the answer yet it made me shudder, nonetheless.

“Only after Mary arrives and gives the go-ahead.”

“And then what?”

“I already told you,” he whispered and leaned in. “This is the only way we can keep her safe!”

“I…” I couldn’t tear my unfocused eyes off the catafalque. 

“As long as you do as I say and accept your role in all this, nothing’s gonna happen to that child. I promise.”

I briefly shut my eyes. “I’m not… what you think I am. I have no power to stop Mary or- or whatever this is about…”

“You’ll figure something out, I’m sure you will! Your name is written in the Gospels! I don’t know why or how, but if the Devil fears you, then I trust you with my life and so does everyone else!”

“You don’t it!” I said, raising my voice and unable to keep in the growing frustration. “ I’m not a prophet! I’m not God and I’m certainly not the voice of God, either!”

“I never said you were – you did. Just now.”

“I don’t even believe in the things you people believe in! I don’t believe in God or the Devil neither in Heaven nor Hell.” I took a pause. “And I’m not a bloody prophet; I’m not.”

“Then pretend that you are! If you really want to save that kid’s life, that is…”

I was flabbergasted.

“Then what… what do you want me to do, exactly?”

“You’ll know what to do,” he said, adding before I had the chance to press on. “Make sure to be here during the ritual. I’ll leave the backdoor open.”

Could he truly be trusted? As I was having these thoughts, now back in the office, I could not stop thinking of everything he told me with such sincerity.

I was certain of only one thing: I was not a prophet and I did not mean to fool people prone to be made a fool of.

At the same time, I could not explain how my name somehow became part of a prophecy and that this had come into existence and ignited hope in these people the second I arrived here.

Moreover, I could not sleep soundly when I knew Vera was dying in the darkness, afraid and perhaps disappointed that I abandoned her to die all alone.

But what if all of this was true?

What if…?

I couldn’t sleep a wink.

I was in the safety of my office, but I knew something terrible was going to happen soon.

As midnight approached, I could no longer bear the harrowing thoughts and phoned David Chapman.

He did not pick up right away.

I began to count the seconds.

And as soon as I heard his voice, I broke down in tears.

I was in a blind.

Vera was inside that catafalque, trapped in the suffocating darkness, and some lunatics believed I was some kind of prophet!

I was losing it.

I needed someone to tell me the way to go – what to do and how to do it.

David Chapman was the only person I could think of. 

Voice of God - Part V

Photo by Mika Baumeister on Unsplash

It was four o’clock in the afternoon when I returned to my office.

I tried to unlock the mysterious door in the dim-lit corridor on my way, but it would not budge.

After locking my office, I drew the curtains and turned on the desktop lamp to study the newspaper.

It was an article from two decades ago detailing the horrendous murder of the young graduate said to haunt the adjacent woods.

It was written by a man called David Chapman.

I looked up his name on a tablet I brought with me from home, but there were no traces of him on the internet.

I was about to throw in the towel and return to the grocery shop when I found a matching name on a freelance website for independent journalists.

The profile picture showed a balding man in his late-fifties. He was dressed in a chequered shirt and wore round, tinted glasses sprung alive from the seventies.

I sent him a direct message, going over the reason for contacting him, and that I hoped to arrange a meeting in the coming days to discuss the case at hand.

I did not mention my involvement with Dew Shire and only detailed information about the case of Enis Fair, and that I would very much like to learn more about the circumstances of her investigation and subsequent death.

David Chapman got back to me two days later and asked to meet up out of the public eye, and that he’d come and pick me up in the witching hour along the roadway the next day. 

Though hesitant, for good reasons, concerned with this singular request, I accepted.

It took David two and a half days to make up his mind and schedule a meeting, and I feared that refusing to meet up would deter him from contacting me again.

At long last, the day I eagerly anticipated arrived. I drew the curtains and turned off the night lamp at approximately ten o’clock.

While waiting for the time to pass, I stuffed my bag with a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, a bunch of keys, some snacks and drinks, and a blanket, just in case.

It was Friday, so I wasn’t in a hurry to return to school the next morning but knew that I was being watched. It was better to return the same night and make sure no one noticed my absence.

At half past eleven o’clock, I unlocked the door and waited a few seconds before opening it.

When I was certain no one was lying in wait in the corridor, I scurried to the exit and made my way to the haunted woods a few yards from the barred village gates.

David had not notified me of where I should wait, but I figured we would eventually meet along the roadway leading to the nearest town.

The roadway was on a slope. I paused now and then to catch my breath then continued. The beginning of a hurricane picked up and made it difficult to advance uphill.

It struck me that the reporter might never make it here due to the inclement weather but hoped I was mistaken.

The message was sent to me when the storm had already begun and David must have known about the weather before asking me to come here.

In fact, I firmly believed this storm was the sole reason he wanted to meet up today of all days; no sane person would trek the woods in such weather after all.

It was during one of these brief pauses that a granite rolled down from the incline to my left and struck my foot before coming to a standstill.

I picked it up and looked around myself when I thought I saw a figure behind an oak tree. That was when I realised the granite had rolled in the opposite direction of the windblasts.

Someone tossed it in this direction on purpose – at least that was the first thought that came over me. 

I hardly took a step towards the massive tree when a cold hand tapped my shoulder and squeezed it.

I jolted and turned around to find David Chapman in front of me.

“Ms Carlton, isn’t it? I’m glad you made…”

We shook hands and then got into his black Mitsubishi, which he had parked at the side of the roadway.

I had not heard the motor, nor had I seen the headlights approaching in the dark but as he started driving I noticed that he had turned off the headlights so that he drove no more than a few miles an hour.

He laughed as he realised what must have been a quizzical look on my face, and deftly mentioned that he did not want to draw attention to himself while driving through the woods.

His laugh was robotic and rather forced, and more than anything, nervous.

The drive lasted somewhere between twenty minutes and half an hour.

I counted the seconds to stop overthinking and concentrate on something other than the dark roadway.

Now and then I thought I saw an animated figure move about in the thickets but became less and less sure as we neared the end of the haunted woods.

The retired journalist parked the car next to an inn and I followed him out.

Due to the circumstances and the late hour, the inn was populated by less than a handful of townspeople, most of which seemed either homeless and ruffled or too young to set foot there.

David greeted the owner, a middle-aged woman smoking indoors behind the counter, and then we took a seat in the farthest corner to discuss what brought us together this very night.

When our beers arrived, I asked the reporter for the details of the missing person’s case and the following murder investigation. 

He took a deep breath and knocked back a pint of beer as if recounting these events required the force of booze to retell.

 “I worked as the chief editor and director at a news firm twenty years ago. Enis Fair started working for me two years after her graduation. She was pregnant with her first child when I first met her.

“Her long-time boyfriend was in the military and due to the nature of his job, had yet to hear about her pregnancy. I took pity on her. It was during her fifth month as a junior reporter that a tip about missing children in Dew Shire reached us.

“I was set to go down there and interview the locals myself and let Enis take care of the affairs here. But she insisted that she preferred field work and so I gave in to her pleas.

“She went to Dew Shire as an undercover teacher since she was an unknown figure there, and we arranged to meet up, in this particular inn, every two to three weeks to exchange information. 

“During our first meet-up, I sensed that she did not look well and suggested we keep the project on hold until she gave birth, but she was adamant about continuing her investigation.

“She would not say how the investigation was going, though. She only assured me that she had a lead and that we would discuss it later next week.”

I asked as he naturally paused to drink. 

“And did she ever manage to?”

He nodded and downed another pint. 

“When I saw her again the following week, I could hardly believe how much weight she had lost. She did not look like a pregnant woman; her cheeks were deep and hollow, her eyes barely open, and her complexion pallid.

“She told me that Dew Shire was a strange place, that the people living there made her blood curdle. Even this time I insisted we stop the investigation and that she should return, but she said she was close to finding out the truth and that she had something to show me at our next meeting.

“I shouldn’t have listened to her, but I allowed her to return to Dew Shire that night. That would be our last meeting alive. She never showed up and I reported her missing. They found her dead body in those woods. The cause of death was never found due to the traumas her body was subjected to by the wild animals.

“More perplexing though, and which this article you brought with you doesn’t state, was the absence of her infant. For many years, I thought it had been consumed by the savage animals…”

“But no longer?” I asked. “You think it’s alive?”

“I don’t think; I know. It was six years after her murder – everyone calls it an unfortunate accident, although I don’t think so – that I received a phone call from a woman who allegedly lived in Dew Shire.

“She informed me that the infant was sound and safe, but in great peril should I fail to save her. I was reluctant to believe this woman for many reasons. There had been no word of its existence until then, and the woman refused to let me come in person and claim the child.

“She insisted we meet up in the same woods Enis Fair lost her life so savagely and I accepted. But she, as was the case with Enis, god bless her, never showed up. I called her more than I should have since then, but she stopped answering my calls.

“I dearly wanted this to be a hoax call, but I could not brush off the woman’s desperate pleas to save the child from whoever preyed on her. Shortly after this, I retired and hoped all these years that I made the right decision. Until two days ago. You proved me wrong. Whatever’s taunting Dew Shire is still there…”

I briefly looked away. “And now another child has gone missing – just like back then.” I met his unyielding gaze. “It can’t be a coincidence, can it?”

“This is only the beginning of a series of unfortunate events, I’m afraid. I wished I could say it was not so and assure you.”

“You think there’ll be more disappearances?”

“I no longer think, and I highly advise you to flee that place before things get out of hand.”

“What about the children in my care?” I began. “I’m their teacher and if there’s something out there who preys on them, then it is my job to see that nothing happens to them!”

David Chapman shook his head. “Dew Shire is alive and it’s no pretty thing! There’s something wicked living there and I hope you’ll realise this before it’s too late!”

“Then I’ll ward it away, whatever that is!”

“You cannot.”

“Help me fight it…” I leaned forwards and lowered my voice. “I’m not asking you to physically be there, in Dew Shire, but be someone I can confide in and seek advice from when time so requires it.

“I… think I saw Enis Fair in those woods before you found me. Listen, I know how this sounds, but I don’t think she was there to harm me. 

“She’s stuck there along with the truth she buried with her, and I think she wants people to know what’s happened to those children and save what’s left of them. Please, you must believe me.”

He stood up. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

Seeking the truth, however wicked and harmful, had always been my sole weakness.

The lure; though distorted and surely shrewd, was enough to keep me awake untold nights and mess with my mind.

If no one wanted to help me find out the truth then I had to find it all by myself, there were no questions about it.

But as much as I wanted to disperse all the lies and find whatever Enis Fair buried with her, I dreaded the unknown and the terrible circumstances that surrounded me in this god-forsaken hamlet.

With no one by my side, no one to come to my rescue, I had no other option but to rely on myself and my own gut.

These things, however, proved to be a much larger issue than I anticipated.

I did not sleep a wink for several days and it was now wearing me out. Every waking hour felt like a waste of time. But Dew Shire brought me here for a reason…

Voice of God - Part IV

Photo by iam_os on Unsplash

My eyes focused on the empty seat next to Hans.

It unnerved me in ways no words could capture to constantly be self-aware of Vera’s absence.

It was half past three o’clock and the class would end in forty-five minutes. I decided to go off-subject and learn more about the children who were put under my wings.

I gathered the stools at the farthest corner, the kids helped of course, and we sat in a circle.

I observed them keenly; Leila was restless and fidgeting, Michaela, with her upturned nose, calm, while the boys who were sitting next to one another giggled among themselves, perhaps exalted that they were no longer required to sit still and study.

And so I began: “It occurred to me this morning that I knew so little about each of you, and that I wanted to hear more about Dew Shire and the communion here.”

“Oh, Dew Shire’s no fun, miss, there’s nothing to know about it, really,” said Derrick, and the others agreed.

Hans was quick to add. “I can’t talk for all of us, but I dare say that Dew Shire has nothing to offer for us children.”

So, he knew this already, I thought and smiled faintly as I recalled his introduction on the first day of school.

But it struck me as quite odd that they only talked about Dew Shire but said nothing at all about themselves or the communion they belonged to.

It was as if they had been instructed by someone not to breathe a word about themselves and the congregation.

Michaela, who had previously remained quiet, then spoke up amidst my musings and threw me off.

“Everything’s well in Dew Shire, miss, it’s just… never mind.”

The children all fell silent as she reluctantly stopped mid-sentence. They all exchanged gazes with one another and looked anxious and ill at ease.

I pressed on, sensing that there was more to these words than the kids let on.

“You can tell me. It’s all right Michaela.”

She took a gander at the others before she met my quizzical look.

I expected to hear her talk about the nature and ordinariness of thrashing in the countryside, but she did not.

I laughed quite bewildered by her utterance and glanced at the other kids who all dropped their heads.

For the briefest of moments, I thought I heard incorrectly – that it ought to be like that – but I knew it was not.

“My parents force me to read the Gospel every night. It’s a tradition of ours and my good mother said naughty kids like me won’t be spared if I don’t read it. I’m sure it’s the same for the others. Just look at us, miss…

“I’m sure half of us have stayed up late studying the Gospel tonight. But it isn’t the act of studying that bothers us; it’s your arrival, miss. You’ve not come alone to Dew Shire. A diabolic creature follows you and—”

“A diabolic creature?” I repeated, taken aback more than I wanted to admit.

“It’s all in the Gospel, miss,” said Leila who had said no words up until this point. Her eyes were fixed on the floor.

“But I don’t believe it; I don’t believe what they say about you.”

“You must be mistaken, then,” I replied and was about to dismiss the singular meeting when Hans assured me.

“It is all true, miss! There cannot be—”

The door creaked open and a dishevelled Nath bolted inside, out of breath.

But his cheeks were not flushed and his chest hardly moving. His eyes landed on Hans and did not budge until I, rather reluctantly, dismissed the class and let the kids go home for the day.

Only when the kids had gone did the uninvited guest speak.

It struck me then, as he delivered the bad news, that he must have eavesdropped on our conversation and barged in so that the kids couldn’t tell me anything I was not supposed to know.

Discreetly, in such a way that gave his intentions away. I could hear that he was trying to figure out whether I knew more than I let on – and whether he had come too late.

I ignored his question and focused solely on the first part of his conceived speech.

“The kid’s gone; we’re all to gather in the church in half an hour. I did not disrupt your class I hope?”

“The kid? You mean Vera? How so? Did you call the police?”

He shook his head. I was flabbergasted; I saw red at that instance.

“A kid’s gone missing and you haven’t called the police? Is this how it works in the countryside!”

“That, I’m afraid, you’ll have to ask Mary in person. She’s the one who calls the shots here. But you must have noticed that already…”

He held out his hand towards the gaping door.

I put back the stools in their rows, refusing the other’s help, then packed my stuff and secured them in my office at the other end of the winding corridor.

Nath had left the school building when I passed by the classroom to lock it and then made my way to the exit.

The patter of rain was so subtle that it was no wonder I had not noticed it had begun to pour; the grey clouds covered the tip of the snow-capped mountains and patches of fog threatened the lucidity of day.

I drew my shawl and skittered to the lofty and coal-dark building down the bumpy trail leading to the fountain.

There was still a quarter to the meeting yet I found the church full to the brim as I forced the doors open.

All eyes, depthless and sunken, turned towards me as I entered. Taken aback, I quickly retorted to one of the empty seats near the entrance only to be ushered to the front row by Nath.

I was quite bewildered by the mass of townspeople to notice that I was sitting next to Vera’s mother.

I observed her as a kid would a giant and noticed that she looked anything but grief-stricken.

She, much like everyone else in Dew Shire, looked devoid of emotions; soulless and callous, human to the touch and flesh but not at heart and spirit.

Mary’s arrival arrested me. She pranced down the aisle and, like a preacher, stood in front of the awaiting mass.

I couldn’t wrap my head around her character, although I could tell that she was of great importance to Dew Shire and its congregation.

But there was something surreal about her, an eerie feeling that gnawed at the back of my mind. 

Her countenance was unlike any other. Yet I couldn’t read her, and it was this insight that sickened me to the core.

“You must’ve heard about the unfortunate event that has befallen us, my brothers and sisters. Little Vera, bless her, has gone with the wind and I plead with each one of you to find me should you see her.

“I’ll pray she’s unharmed, perhaps lost but safe, and that we’ll find her soon. Now, let’s pray—”

Mary clasped her hands together in a prayer when I interrupted her.

“Shouldn’t we call the police? They, rather than a man-made god, will surely find her in time.”

She disregarded me as did the others. A chilling prayer pervaded and I was the only one who did not plead with the gods.

The gathering was over.

I seized Mary as she was about to leave, but I did not say a word until Vera’s mother left, and there were only three of us: Mary, Nath, and I.

The young woman, however, was not startled by my aggressive nature. I could tell that she expected this much from me or perhaps even worse things.

“No matter how much I think this through, I believe, whatever happened to Vera, it was her mother’s doing.

“She must’ve seen red when you talked to her about Vera’s wounds, and I think she… We need to call the police before it’s too late!”

“Call the police?” she repeated, there was a hint of disbelief in the tone of her dismissive voice. “On what grounds and on what evidence, exactly? If we are to call the police, then we’d better find leads first.” 

“I- I saw her scars as I’m sure her classmates did as well! That should be enough to at least detain—”

Mary leaned in.

“This… is my congregation, Ms Carlton, and we do as I say here. Do you understand?”

I briefly dropped my eyes, which darted from side to side, unsure and antsy all at the same time, before I exited the church and came to a standstill in the doorway. 

I cast a glimpse of the grim interior as I recalled the day I brought Vera home.

Her tiny eyes quivered at the sight of this place, this beat-down House of God, and clung to me as if a Satanic force would get her and rip her away from the face of the Earth.

Now she was gone. 

The shadowy corners, the dim-lit vaults, and the singular yet crafty work of idols arrested me. I wanted to explore it, search every nook and cranny, and—

“Miss?” I shifted my glassy eyes to the front yard where I, in my musings, failed to notice that Nath waited for me.

He did that quite often, I reasoned, waiting for me, even when I did not expect him to.

Even today, when he barged into the classroom, I was certain that he waited in front of the door, eavesdropping all along.

I came up with some excuse and followed him out into the murk. It had become rather dark and gloomy due to the parky weather. But it did not rain; it had done its deed and then faded away.

I hardly took a few steps when I turned to face the church for the last time, and a bloodcurdling shiver ran up my spine. This place… What about this place unnerved me so? I couldn’t even tell.

I excused myself and went up the winding trail towards the school building, then I turned around when I was sure Nath was no longer following me and made it down to the grocer’s shop.

I snatched the first item I saw on the shelves and swiftly advanced towards the counter.

The grocery shop’s owner never let me out of his sight. I could almost hear the nervous lurch of his beating heart as I approached him.

He crammed up as I inquired about Dew Shire.

By the time I was to repeat myself and less discreetly this time about the nature of my experiences the last few days, he turned his back to me and fished up a ripped piece of newspaper from under the counter.

I held my hand out to take a look at it when he placed his hands over mine and, finally, met my gaze.

“Be careful out there, you mustn’t let them know I gave this to you. And.” He glimpsed outside for a fraction of a second, then let me go. “Get out of Dew Shire at the first chance.”

I tucked the newspaper in my pocket and exited.

Voice of God - Part III

Photo by Lan Gao on Unsplash

“Do you have any questions on today’s lecture?”

Hans raised his hand, making noises to get my attention. I smiled and let my eyes wander to the other children, who were already packing their stuff to leave.

Hans was curious about the world, the outside world beyond these flat lands, which pleasantly surprised me. He did not stop raising his hands throughout the lecture and was hungry for knowledge.

“You said, miss, that our planet is one of many in the Milky Way, then how come I have never seen an alien before?”

I chuckled without really meaning to. Hans’s tone was grave, and I did not want to downplay his childish curiosity.

As I was about to respond, my eyes landed on Vera’s wrist and my smile faded away. The little girl nimbly pulled her sleeves down and was in a great hurry to leave.

Bruises. On her arms, there were bruises. I could swear on the heavens that there was no trace of physical abuse yesterday, so how…

“Miss?”

I stood up just as Vera scampered out the door and glanced at Hans.

“I’m sorry, buddy, let’s talk about this another time, all right?”

Without waiting for the boy to leave the dilapidated classroom, I ran through the corridor until I caught up with Vera.

She peeked over her shoulder as I neared and picked up her pace.

I snatched her arm and then let go as she let out a groan. She was in pain. Those wounds bothered her, but she was in great pains to hide them from me.

Besides, she wanted me to follow her back home yesterday, so why was she running away from me now? I could not figure her out.

Hans and Michaela – even Laila and Derrick – were somewhat easy to read and decipher, but Vera was different. The more I tried to understand her, the deeper I sank into confusion.

“I want to go home… please, miss.”

I caught my breath before replying to her strange plea. It was not like I was trying to stop her from going home, I was just—

“Please…”

Her quivering eyes avoided mine. What was wrong with her? But the little girl would not say. Even so, I couldn’t keep in what went through my mind.

“What about…” your scars? I couldn’t finish my question.

If Vera was truly a victim of abuse and my visit to her home triggered her parents to do this to her, then would she – or anyone for that matter – confide in me? I crammed up and nodded to confirm that she was allowed to go.

I lost heart.

Even when she vanished out of sight several minutes ago, I stared blankly out the fence and imagined the horrors that poor girl was returning to.

But I couldn’t just stay put and wish upon the stars for a miracle, could I? Vera and the other kids were put in my care. I had to do something. It was my responsibility to keep them safe – even from their own blood.

I pulled out the business card Mary gave me. I didn’t think I would have any reason to hit her up, but I guess one should never say never.

Mary picked up the call after my second attempt. Although she knew my phone number, she sounded as if it was the first time we spoke on the phone.

I explained to her the nature of my sudden call and that I believed she was in a position to talk to Vera’s parents. She listened without interrupting me.

When she finally spoke up, I was not quite sure if she cared much about my concerns despite the fact that she assured me she would take care of this for me.

“Thank you, I know this was sudden and—”

“No worries,” she replied, added. “Besides, it was wise of you to call me first.”

“I’m sorry?”

She paused. I could tell from my end of the line that she changed sides and took her sweet time replying. For some reason, she enjoyed my startled tone, at least that was how it felt.

“You must understand how things work in the countryside I suppose? People here don’t like to be told what to do. Thrashing is not uncommon in the country…”

“That’s—what I saw, I beg your pardon, was more than just thrashing. That poor child’s arms were—”

“I’ll talk with her parents as per your wish, but that’s all I can do for you, Ms Carlton, and I highly advise you not to involve yourself in family matters.”

“Family matters?” I couldn’t help but smirk. “I’m her teacher! I have the responsibility to make sure my pupils are in good health and grow up into respectable citizens in this damn country!”

“Watch your words, dear. I don’t mind your language, but this is not how we spoke to each other in Dew Shire.”.

Before I could respond, the woman hung up on me. I listened to the buzzing noise left from our phone call, wheezing and trying to calm myself down.

Usually, things like this never happen. I had never lost my cool in my entire career. Until now. This place, this school, and these people did something to my psyche.

I couldn’t tell if I was simply overreacting or going bonkers.

Mary was right. I was living in the countryside where corporal punishment was common – even expected – so why did I react the way I did? Maybe it was the bruises I witnessed that put me under a heinous spell.

I had to stop caring. Mary said she would take care of this, so what reason did I have to doubt her?

I returned to my office, ate some filling crackers and then began to prepare for tomorrow’s lecture. Some time passed like this. Then I heard a clamour from the corridor and glimpsed outside from the cracked door.

There was no one in the drafty hall.

I tightened my grip on the rusty knob and was about to go back inside and lock the door when I caught myself staring at one of the doors down the vacant corridor. I was certain it was locked for the entire two days I stayed here.

But not this time. It was ajar. I looked around the corridor a second time, then decided to check the room out. Hardly had I touched the loose knob, when a bitterly cold hand gripped mine.

I jolted and let out a bloodcurdling gasp.

Next to me stood the man whose name I still did not know. He closed the door, and only then did he release his grip.

I took a few steps away from the strange guy and was in great pain to calm my hammering heart, trying to rip out of my chest. What in the whole world was this person doing here? At this hour, at that. I was about to speak my mind when he beat me to it.

“Sorry ‘bout that, did I scare you?”

I nodded after a brief moment of hesitation. I followed his eyes as he looked around in the corridor.

“I was passing by when I heard something. I thought you needed help.”

“What… did you hear?”

He dropped his eyes. “I don’t know, really. It sounded like you were screaming or something.”

“Screaming?” I repeated. “Why would I scream?”

“I must’ve heard wrong. I’m sorry for scaring you, Ms Carlton.”

“No… no, it’s okay.”

I couldn’t tell if he was genuinely worried about me or if he just came up with something to hide whatever lay beyond that door.

I bid him farewell; that was the end of our bizarre conversation. I saw him out and was about to return to the office when he asked something anew. This time, I was sure. There was something inside that room, and whatever it was, he did not want me to go in there and find out.

But I couldn’t let him catch onto my growing suspicions, so I played along.

“Hey, uhm, I completely forgot this, but Mary told me she needed to discuss something with you. Tonight.”

“Tonight?” I repeated and added. “I spoke with her over the phone just a few hours ago…”

“She said it was important, so you’d better hurry.”

I remained hushed for a few seconds and tried to decipher what went through his mind to no avail. Why was he so eager to see me go?

“I don’t really know where she lives, though. Mind taking me there?”

“… Yeah, sure.”

Mary Magdalene lived at the crook of a jagged mountain pass.

Her house could hardly be considered a hut like the ones we passed to get there. It was as lavish as the person it housed.

I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of life the young woman led and what her occupation was as I made my way to the front door next to the weird guy, whose name I finally learnt. He told me his name was Nath. It was not short for Nathaniel or anything like that – just plain Nath.

He had, like many of the villagers, spent all his life in Dew Shire and could not imagine a life outside of it.

I thought of Hans. He, too, would probably never set foot outside this place and be stuck here for all his adult life. It seemed like a recurring and expected thing here, to live in the same hole until you pass away from old age.

Nath peeked over his shoulder as he knocked on the door for the second time. He came off as anxious, as though he wasn’t sure what he was doing here.

I ran my hand through my auburn hair and drew a deep breath.

By the end of his third attempt, the heavy door creaked open and a bare-faced Mary showed up. I could tell right away. She had no idea why we were here. Even so, she quickly got into her role and welcomed us in.

Nath drew closer, whispered something in Mary’s ears, and excused himself.

I followed Mary into the drawing room and planted myself on the maroon settee. Mary cleared her throat as she followed suit. In the prevailing silence, I looked around me and could hardly believe what I was seeing.

My inquisitiveness grew; who the heck was she?

The entire room was riddled with candlesticks, fragrant incense, antique tints, and ancient furniture. It felt like I had returned to a time long-forgotten in the past. The air was heavy and choking.

I locked eyes with Mary as I made up my mind and she, with her silent gaze, confirmed me.

This was a shrine. A place for prayer.

I gulped and felt how dry my mouth became in an instant. Still, Mary never avoided my bewildered eyes and stood her ground as if nothing was out of place. Who are you, I asked myself, but she was not going to tell me; I only knew what she wanted me to know about her.

I snapped back to reality when one of the windows flung open and chilled the inside out of the blue. Mary closed the window before taking a seat across from me.

“Nath said you had something to say…”

She did not reply at first. She just stared at me. It looked like she was trying to figure out what was going through my mind.

“Excuse the late hour, Ms Carlton. It’s about Vera.”

“You’ve spoken to her parents already?”

“I took care of the matter. There’s no need to worry.”

She wanted to end the conversation. But I wasn’t going to let her slip away this easily, so I insisted on knowing the details.

“I already told you all you need to know,” she said and showed me the door. “I hope you don’t insist on this any further. I have my reputation and I cannot disclose confidential—”

“I’ll see myself out, then. Thank you.”

She observed me until I was no longer in close proximity. The mysterious door was once again locked tight when I returned to the school grounds. I wrapped my hand around the cold doorknob and felt a chill run down my spine.

I wanted to look over my shoulder but fought every fibre of my being not to. Someone lurked in the shadows and observed my every move.

I let go of the doorknob and locked myself in the office soon afterwards. I didn’t blink an eye until daybreak and whoever watched me beyond the door and hid in the corridor did not, either.

Something was wrong… but what, exactly?