A CHILD OF NATURE
The wind whistled eerily
through the ruins of the ancient church as Evangeline knelt there
before what fragments remained of the old stone altar. She had
often visited this place - this place where she felt so much at
home. So much attuned to the air - to the atmosphere - which she
felt around her as she bathed in the stillness - as she soaked in
the silence. The stillness and the silence that were so deep here
- so profound.
Evangeline was a mysterious
girl. Fair-haired and blue-eyed. People had said, when they knew
her name, that she didn`t look like an Evangeline at all. She
knew what they had meant. Now, she knew. She felt that she was
more like a dark-haired, wild young thing, except that she was
not wild but she valued her freedom. She could not tolerate being
bound or tied in any way - not to anything nor to anyone. Except
to this place - that is.
Evangeline had found this
secret haven when she had fled to escape the clutches of a man
who thought himself in love with her. She, herself, had known
infatuation more than once, and she knew that what this young man
felt for her was no more than the same infatuation.
So she had taken to her heels
and she had run as fast as the wind - for she was really a child
of the wind - a child of nature. No one could hold her - nothing
could hold her. She was charming and she was beautiful, with skin
like the velvety petals of an unblemished rose. Her eyes as clear
as crystal pools that reflected the bright blue sky of summer.
Her lips were perfectly shaped and her long hair blew freely in
the wind.
Yes! Evangeline was a child
of nature - a child of freedom - a child who was different to the
other girls in the village.
That day she had run as
though her life depended upon it. She had taken flight and sped
over the fields and through the neighbouring woodland. Into the
next village and beyond she had run, almost to the cliff edge.
But something had brought her to an abrupt halt. It was not
anything that she had seen. It was not anything that she had
heard. It was something in the air. Something strange - something
other-worldly. A feeling - a strange yet a wonderful feeling that
made her spine tingle. It was almost as if this ancient church -
this vague resemblance of a church - had sent out a message to
her. Transmitted of its very essence and stopped Evangeline in
her tracks.
She, now, recalled how
abruptly she had been halted. It was almost as though she had run,
head-on, into an invisible barrier. She remembered how she had
thought that someone was calling to her. Calling her by name. She
had stopped still - dumbfounded. She listened. How she had
listened. But nothing - only the sound of distant waves breaking
at the foot of the cliff. Only the wind whispering through the
grass. Only……
Evangeline had listened hard
and then she had followed the essence that she had felt. An
essence that she had felt in every fibre of her being. That same
essence that she, now, felt, once again and which she had known
each time she had returned to her secret place.
That first time it was as
though she were being led, as though she were being pulled by
some strong, invisible magnet. She had followed a trail that had
been laid for her and for her alone. A trail that had led from
the marked pathway - worn by numerous feet that had passed this
way over the years. A trail, untrodden, which led through the
bracken, through a copse and into a hidden valley shaded by
slender birch trees whose silvery bark had seemed to shine like
jewels as they caught the rays of the afternoon sun.