A slim figure kneels in a night where only nightmares elude the sweet thoughts of
children’s dreams. The moon illuminates the face that is upturned to the stars, as if it were
in prayer. The face is that of a young woman, and the lips set on it spill silvery whispered
words into the crisp air. She wears a black cloak that has a hood, and it falls over her face
as she does something quickly, almost ritually with her hands in the shadows of the
ground.
The sounds of the night, in some empty field somewhere, are almost obliterated by
some words spoken from the figure that even she doesn’t recognize. Then, as she raises
her arms, she looks back to the stars again, with a look of pain mixed with a great burden
released in them. Her hands are pale in the moonlight, and her arms streaking with blood
when the sleeves slide down her slender arms to the elbows. She looks like she is
worshipping God, but she isn’t sure if she is doing it right. Her mouth hung agape, head
back and tears at the very rim of her lids hung steadily, wanting to leave.
More and more blood came dripping from the scarlet gashes. They each seemed
to have a voice of their own, screaming out pain to this girl, but she’s only deaf to the
sounds.
She finally collapse, like it had been what she had wanted to do for all her life- she
is almost like a clay figure there, made by a child, in a child’s mind. Her breathing became
slow yet somehow panicked and her heart throbbed as if it were scared near death.
The night tried to comfort her with its vespertine sounds and sweet breezes. But it
wasn’t just the night, she realized, as a dry storm started up in the air like it had been
waiting there all along.
Thunder cracked above her body that continued to bleed closer and closer to her
fatal end. And in something like a split second, it seemed that that single crack of thunder
came down and hit her spirit, as if it was sent directly from God. She closed her eyes and
her body seemed to loosen and drain of the death she had longed to come. Her wounds
ebbed deep within her, and she felt her cuts cease their warm trickling of blood onto the
ground. The will to live replaced her dire want to die, like a tiger would over take a
measly kitten for pray.
From that point on, she decided to start a relationship with God, the one who
loved her so much, He gave her a sign and brought her from the brink of death. Her heart,
for what seemed the first time in her later years, went to a normal beat.