The Whitechapel Interlude [10]

 

The light, passing through the empty square at the top of the wood-and-iron door, drew her from the oasis of dreamless sleep, diaphanous chains pulling her towards the world; not yet awake enough to involve her physical body, the spiritual tropism, a light so bright that, even as a young girl exploring the river-carved fields protecting the village of her birth like a sleeping giant, drew attention.

Just beginning a waking ritual of prayer, Sarah was pulled by a presence, within her, yet distinct in shape and tone, “Tell me, this goddess you revere, what makes her worth your soul?”

Brother Abbott’s voice, from her first year, ‘Luke 10:17, people, it may save you someday’, in her stillness, Sarah, with a strength she wanted to believe she possessed, said, “You are a devil, better, you are nothing more than an echo in my mind, strained and hurt; I will be rid of you, courtesy of my family here in the Order.”

“But, I am you; confess your deepest fears, admit your sins to your Mother Superior and still, compared to me, she is a stranger viewed through a looking glass, on a departing train; I believe I like you and think we can do something together that will serve both of our interests.”

“Who are you?”

“Lets call me Katherina, because, if you have the strength“, inside Sarah, the voice moved from the place in the mind where the heart stores it’s most treasured possessions, outwards towards where sound touches the daylight world; “You and I can be as close as you had once dreamed.”