by Amy Cross
And then, stopping suddenly, I see a man walking along in the distance.
He is quite alone, and when I squint I am just about able to see that he is a handsome, rather strapping young man who looks to be in his twenties. I can just about make out stubble on his chin, but he walks without a limp and my first thought is that this man should be fighting for his country instead of traipsing through the forest. He might work on a farm, as the voice suggested; then again, perhaps he works at the nearby RAF base. I watch as he wanders along, and I wait until he is out of sight. Evidently he did not hear or notice me. He is heading roughly in the direction of the airbase, so I tell myself that he is merely an airman who happened to come out here when he had a spare moment. That makes sense.
I wait a moment longer, and then I resume my walk toward Cobbler's Bottom. My heart is racing, and I feel a faint fear tugging at my heart, no matter how many times I tell myself that there is no reason to be concerned.
In my mind's eye, I imagine Elizabeth sitting studiously at her desk, raising her hand to answer all the questions that the teacher asks. She is such a bright girl, and resilient to boot. I imagine that all the other girls are simply jealous of her prodigious gifts. Often, the most intelligent girls are the ones who are scorned by their classmates. Nevertheless, I am sure that Elizabeth will carry on with her work. It is simply inconceivable that she would stray from the proper path.
Suddenly I stop in my tracks as I see a figure in the distance.
It's her.
I know immediately, from the dress and from the way that she's walking. I recognize my dear Elizabeth, and I see that she is walking away from Cobbler's Bottom, heading in the opposite direction to the man I saw a moment earlier. I feel the most dreadful sense of despair in my chest as I realize that I was wrong to have so much faith in her, that she is not at school at all. And as she walks, she is holding something in her hands, and I squint just in time to see that she is sniffing another long-stemmed rose.
I think my heart is breaking.
She has not seen me, despite the noise of my feet against the leaves. I suppose her feet make an equal noise. And as she wanders away, she seems to be in something of a daze. I think I can see that she is smiling, and somehow deep down I already know that she must have been meeting that man. I open my mouth to call out, but no words emerge and I suddenly realize that my knees feel weak. I try to steady myself, but then I have to go and lean against the nearest tree, lest I might collapse entirely. The whole world seems to be swinging all around me, and I swear I can feel an actual pain in my chest where my heart is suffering.
“Oh Elizabeth,” I whimper, with tears running down my face, “why did you have to do this? Didn't I warn you? Didn't I tell you that it was wrong? Why didn't you learn from my example?”
In all my life, I have never felt so low. I have made mistakes of my own, of course, but for the first time I am seeing that my own daughter is following in my footsteps. I have failed her as a mother, and – worse – I have been blind to the truth. I have been vain and conceited and gullible. I have been a fool.
“You are no fool, Judith,” the voice says suddenly. “Have I done enough now? Do you understand that I am real?”
“Who are you?” I ask, as my bottom lip trembles. “What do you want?”
“I already told you,” the voice replies. “I want to help you. And I want you to stop doubting yourself so much. Elizabeth has her own mind. Yes, she is your daughter, but she makes her own decisions. And whereas you had no such warnings as a girl, she has had many. She has ignored your advice.”
“She's a good girl,” I stammer.
“Then save her,” the voice says. “If she is worth saving, you must do it. Do not hide away from the truth, Judith. Confront it. Rage at it, if you must. But if you truly believe that your girl is good, it would be a sin not to go right now and save her from her own mistakes.”
I hesitate for a moment, before nodding.
“Then go to it,” the voice adds. “I shall help. We can do it together.”
Stepping away from the tree, I start walking once again through the forest, heading after Elizabeth. I pick up my pace, almost running as I hurry between the trees. Elizabeth has a considerable head-start, but in my mind's eye I can only think about catching up to her and confronting her. My anger is building, getting stronger and stronger until it throbs in my chest, and I know I am going to have to be tough with my darling girl. Perhaps I have been too gentle with her in the past, but that approach has clearly not worked and this time I fear I must be stern. And as I walk even faster than before, crunching across the bed of leaves, I clench my fists.
After a few more minutes I spot her in the distance. She is still wandering along slowly, admiring the rose, but then she turns and looks this way. I see the look of horror and fear in her eyes as soon as she realizes she has been caught, and she hesitates for a few seconds before turning and running.
“Elizabeth Prendergast!” I shout at the top of my voice. “Come here!”
Still she runs, so I too start running, setting off after her and getting faster and faster until I am racing between the trees. I do not remember the last time I actually ran, and I am surprised by my speed. Perhaps it is my anger that is driving me onward, but I realize rather quickly that I am catching Elizabeth. It is as if some deeper strength is filling my body, and now I am only a few paces behind her. I am getting breathless, but – as I reach out toward Elizabeth's back – I am determined to stop her and make her understand.
“Get back here!” I shout. “You can't run forever!”
She lets out a faint gasp as she tries to go faster.
“I said get back here!” I scream. “Elizabeth!”
With that, I manage to grab her by the shoulder, and I pull her down as I slam into her and send her crashing down against the forest floor. Landing on top of her, I stare down into her terrified eyes and then I scream again.
Chapter Seven
Opening my eyes, I see the cold, dark stone floor of the church, and my own hands clenched together in prayer. I stay completely still for a moment, listening to the silence, and then I raise my face and see that altar of Briarwych Church at the top of the steps. I am freezing cold, and the church is lit only by streams of moonlight that bathe everything in a pale blue color. I am on my knees before the altar, in the position of prayer.
I do not remember how I got here.
For a moment, I do not remember much at all, but then I realize that I was chasing Elizabeth through the forest. I was running faster and faster, desperately trying to catch up to her. I was filled with anger, and finally I grabbed her from behind. I pulled her down and landed on her, and then I put my hands on her throat to hold her down. She was kicking and fighting furiously, but I screamed at her and then...
And then what?
It was daytime when I caught her in the forest, only a little after noon. Now it is dark outside and many, many hours must have passed. Evidently I returned to Briarwych, but I remember none of that. It is as if the past few hours have been wiped from my mind, and I have absolutely no idea what happened in the forest or what I did or where Elizabeth is now.
Slowly, I get to my feet. My knees are trembling slightly and I have to support myself against one of the pews. Looking around, I realize that I am all alone. I head along the aisle and through to the corridor, and then I check the various rooms to see whether Father Perkins is here. He is not, which is unusual, and I am still rather worried by the fact that I seem to have no memory whatsoever of my return to the village.
What happened out there in the forest?
***
As soon as I push the front door open, I feel a rush of relief as I hear Elizabeth working in the kitchen. The lights are on and the house is warm, and Elizabeth seems to be doing her chores. Perhaps everything is right again.
I head over to the kitchen door and look through, and I am surprised to see Elizabeth down on her hands and knees, scrubbing the floor
. Indeed, the entire kitchen is immaculate, and I turn and see that the whole house seems to have been cleaned from top to bottom. I clean regularly, of course, but this is of another magnitude. I honestly do not remember the last time the house looked so good.
I turn back to look at Elizabeth.
“My darling,” I say, “I -”
She lets out a startled cry and spins around, backing against the cupboard door and staring at me with wild, fearful eyes. It is as if she had not heard me enter the house.
“My darling,” I continue cautiously, “what a pleasant surprise. You have done such a wonderful job.”
I wait, but if anything the fear in her eyes seems to have grown. She looks positively terrified.
“I never knew you were so good at cleaning,” I say with a smile, before stepping into the room. “Why, even the stove -”
Before I have managed a single pace, Elizabeth scrambles back across the floor and then stops in the far corner, as if she wants to keep as far away from me as possible. For a moment, I cannot quite believe what is happening. Elizabeth and I have had our disagreements in the past, of course, but she has never acted like this before.
“Whatever is the matter?” I ask, still smiling. “You seem to be in rather a state.”
Her lips tremble, and I think she is trying to say something. She is staring at me with such terror, however, that I finally turn and look over my shoulder, just in case something dreadful is behind me, and then I turn to her again.
“Elizabeth,” I continue, “whatever is the matter? You are beginning to worry me.”
“I did it,” she stammers, her voice trembling so much that she can barely get the words out. “I'll do more, I swear. I won't sleep. I'll work all night.”
“That seems rather unnecessary,” I point out. “My darling, why are you shaking so badly? Everything is fine.” I pause, before making my way around the kitchen table, and this time Elizabeth merely shrinks a little further into the corner. I stop and reach a hand out toward her. “You have done more than enough for one night. Are you hungry?”
As I ask that question, I realize that I too am hungry. Ravenous, even. Is it possible that Elizabeth and I have not had dinner tonight? I always have food on the table for six o'clock, yet there is no sign of anything having been prepared. I do not want to admit to Elizabeth that I have forgotten the events of the past few hours, but at the same time I know that I must feed my daughter.
“I can make something quick and simple,” I say, with my hand still outstretched. “Come on, get up off the floor and have a wash. By the time you're done, I shall have something on the table. Perhaps I shall make one of your favorites.”
She lets out a faint, pained murmur.
“Elizabeth, please,” I continue, “you must get up now.”
She hesitates, and then – ignoring my hand – she slowly hauls herself up. She seems a little stiff, as if she's in some discomfort, and she's still staring at me with that same expression of abject horror.
“Are you okay?” I ask cautiously. “Elizabeth, are you hurt?”
She shakes her head.
“Are you sure?” I continue. “Elizabeth, are you -”
“I'm fine!” she blurts out. “Please don't ask! I told you I'm fine, and I'm not lying! Not this time! Not everything I tell you is a lie!” She pauses, and now she seems a little breathless. “I can tell the truth, you know,” she adds. “Sometimes.”
“My darling, I know,” I say, stepping toward her, “I merely -”
She pulls away and hurries around the table, stopping next to the doorway.
“Whyever are you frightened?” I ask, although I'm already terrified that I must have said or done something terrible in the forest. I hope I did not strike her in a moment of anger, but – again – I do not want to ask her directly. “My darling,” I continue, “I had to admonish you, but the moment has passed now and we should not let any negative feelings fester. Come on, let's have something to eat.”
“Can I be excused and go to my room?”
“Have you eaten?”
“I don't want to eat,” she whimpers, as tears fill her eyes. “I'm not hungry. I just want to go to bed and sleep.”
“Are you feeling ill?”
She shakes her head, as her bottom lip trembles and tears start running down her cheeks.
“My darling,” I say, once again stepping toward her, “whatever is the -”
“Just let me go to bed!” she shouts, pulling back and bumping hard against the jamb of the door. She seems to be limping a little. “I'll be fine in the morning! I just need to sleep now! Why won't you let me sleep?”
“Of course you can sleep,” I tell her, as I realize that she is perhaps just letting her hormones run riot. After all, she is a young girl, and her feelings might be a little raw. “We can talk in the morning.”
“I don't want to go to school tomorrow,” she says through gritted teeth.
“My dear, I think it would be good if -”
“I don't want to go to school tomorrow!” she snaps angrily.
“Fine,” I reply, hoping to avert an argument. “You can have a little time off, and then the weekend will give you a chance for a fuller rest. Does that sound acceptable?”
“I'll be okay,” she stammers, before turning and running up the stairs, and then slamming her bedroom door shut.
“She's just embarrassed,” I whisper, as I step back against the counter and try to make sense of this madness. “There's nothing more to it. She's embarrassed, and she'll be fine. This time tomorrow, everything will be alright again.”
As I say those words, however, I already know that tomorrow morning I must get to the bottom of this all. Starting with the voice that I keep hearing in the church.
Chapter Eight
Loitering close to the noticeboard, I watch as Father Perkins finally emerges from the church. I've been here for hours, determined to watch him leave but also not wanting to speak to him until I understand what is happening. He gets onto his bicycle and starts to cycle away, and I feel a growing sense of fear as he disappears from view.
I must not be weak.
I slip into the cemetery and make my way along the path. With each step that takes me closer to the church, I feel the sense of fear getting stronger, but I force myself to keep going. By the time I reach the door, my hands are trembling, but I step into the church and then I immediately walk along the aisle until I'm at the foot of the altar, and there I kneel. Instead of lowering my face in prayer, however, I stare up at the altar and listen for a moment to the silence of the church.
“Okay,” I say finally, unable to rid my voice of fear, “I accept that you are real. Now tell me what you really are.”
***
“So you're not the Lord?” I ask, sitting on the steps and looking back along the aisle. “I thought...”
My voice trails off.
“You thought your prayers were finally going to be answered, after so long?” the voice asks. “That's cute.”
“Then I still don't understand,” I continue. “Are you an angel?”
I hear a faint ripple of laughter.
“Are you...”
For a moment, I cannot bring myself to say the word.
“Are you a demon?” I ask finally.
The laughter stops.
“You humans have such silly words for these things,” the voice says eventually. “These words are alien to me. I do not know what an angel is, or a demon.”
I take a deep breath. Is this some kind of trick?
“I am an intelligence,” the voice continues, “that for many centuries had been drifting around. I could have attached myself to any passing human soul, but nothing caught my fancy. And I do still have standards. So I waited and waited, and to be honest I was starting to lose interest in the whole thing. Then, one hot day, I saw two young girls walking through the forest and making their way out to a field. I almost didn't pay any attention, for I have found young human gi
rls to be so dull in the past, but for some reason I decided to come to the edge of the forest and watch for a while.”
“What does this have to do with me?” I ask.
“Do you not remember?” the voice replies. “I think you do. It was so hot, your friend partially disrobed.”
I feel a shudder pass through my body.
“And then you, Judith, took a rock and -”
“No!” I blurt out, getting to my feet and taking a few steps backward. “That did not happen!”
“But it nearly did,” the voice explains, “and for a moment, just a moment, you thought that you'd bashed your friend's skull open. I found the whole scene fascinating, Judith. I have seen humans getting overcome by their desires before, but you fought back, you managed to control yourself. And I continued to watch the pair of you with great interest. That was the moment when I realized that I had finally chanced upon a soul that was worthy of my time. I have been watching ever since, keeping an eye on things, waiting for certain souls to mature.”
“You're lying,” I stammer, backing away again until I bump against one of the pews. “That was years ago!”
“You try so hard to keep your dark side hidden, Judith. You smother your darkness in hypocrisy and fear. You've built a cage out of your faith, and you're scared to stray beyond those bars. You did stray one more time, though, didn't you? With the man whose seed grew in your belly. I was glad when that happened, Judith. It showed me that the struggle was still very real in your heart.”
I shake my head.
“You took a crucifix from your friend that day,” the voice says.
“She gave it to me.”
“And what happened to it?”
