Pearls and Presence, Chapter Seven- Bitter

Once upon a starry and lonely night, when the Accuser was whispering promises into my ear, I gave him the key to the door of this empire just as I had given him the pearl. And that very night he locked it and hid away the key from me. He is so close to me now, and I see it there hanging from a string around his neck as he leans over me. And there in the tallest room of the tallest tower of my empire I am finally overcome by the Enemy. I get what I deserve. All the things I built walls up against to keep out, they are all visited upon me in full force at that moment. All the things I feared, they all came true. My idols are gone, and my Accuser was right. And this is the dark night of the soul, and I cannot escape my mistakes or undo my choices.

Who can save me?

~*~

Maras’ eyes were closed, and the craving she felt was all-consuming as she bowed low before her idols. It had been so long since she had worshiped here. All the pent-up energy came exuding from her being. Her hope was electric with anticipation.

“This is the moment you have been dreaming of, Mara, when you will get what you have always wanted.” Achor knew exactly what she needed to hear. His knowledge came from the many years of walking with her, listening to her talk and studying her habits and behaviors and choices. He knew her better than she knew herself.

“You will finally have companions on the island. You have given them your complete trust now, it is finished!” The power of his influence over Mara in this moment came from the many years of her choosing his companionship, allowing herself to walk with him, listening to him talk, and looking frequently into his accusing eyes for answers.

She was so convinced of her happiness that she hardly notice when Achor moved close to her and crouched down right next to her prostrated figure. He pressed his hand lightly on her back and whispered, “Give the necklace to me and you will have what you deserve. I know what to do next.” 

She wanted so badly to believe that his words were good, because his was the only voice she ever heard on the lonely island. So Mara lifted up her right arm, hands clasped around the pearl necklace, extended it towards him, and it fell through her open fingers into his hands.

The moment it happened she felt all the power go out from within her. That very second she realized she had totally destroyed her illusions.

She finally saw that her idols were false, and that they were made of nothing more than masks and fears and lies.

She wanted to take it back.

But it was too late.

What was done could not be undone.

He stood up with a victorious laugh, and then stepped between Mara and her idols. She felt his cold shadow fall over her, and regret manifested in her body. Mara looked up and saw that he was clutching the pearl necklace tightly and mocking her with accusing eyes- his voice was no longer encouraging, but full of selfish delight.

“I have waited years for this moment. I have been searching for the pearl of great price among your roses day after day after day. And now you just hand it to me of your own free will!”

He laughed and looked closely at her. Then he spoke with great clarity- “Always remember what you have done. You chose this by your own doing, Mara. This is your fault and you should be so ashamed.” That word burned like fire in her soul. “You have given me authority over your greatest treasure. Me, your lifelong Adversary and Accuser. And so now you will get what you truly deserve, what you have worked for all these years without even realizing it”.

And with one fell swoop he turned and smashed all the beautiful idols, the ones that represented the things she desired to love. They shattered into a million broken pieces on the floor around her. And even though she knew they were false, made of insecurity, instability and deception, even still Mara cried out in despair, reaching forward helplessly to stop the destruction.

The remnants of her idols were scattered everywhere, impossible to repair.

She had loved them so deeply that she would now mourn them like a dead brother. The tears began instantly, threatening to choke her with sorrow.

Achor turned back to watch her reaction and towered over her prostrate figure with haughty laughter.

“You are mine now. There is nothing left for you. This is what you deserve. This is what you asked for. This is your fault. And now you are going to pay the price for what you have done.” There was an almost drunken malice emanating from Achor as he towered over Mara, who was cowering on the ground.

In an instant of broken repentance she thought of the sea, and she knew she needed to escape the Valley and seek refuge by the ocean. But the darkness was so vast and the valley walls were so high and the way was blocked.

Achor was holding hostage her pearl of great price, clutching it in his tight fist, laughing at her. She put her head in her hands and grieved- I surrendered my gift and now I cannot take it back, I gave it carelessly away without even the slightest regard for its true value.

And in a flash she remembered the wild and regal Man in white, the one from her dream. She knew instinctively that she must go to Him. Somehow she knew this to be a fact; it was a call from deep inside her soul.

It was the first absolute truth she had believed in many years.

With a new hope Mara tried to get up from the floor, but Achor knocked her back. He was powerful now, strong and aggressive and in full control. He knew her every weakness and turned upon each one of them.

“It is too late, your mistake is permanent.” Achor declared triumphantly.

And he was right, it was too late for her. Now, by her own doing, she was completely at the mercy of her enemy’s authority. Nothing was left of the audacious gentleman he had been- he now stood before her revealed as his truest self, the Prince of Darkness. The one she had foolishly trusted with her greatest gift.

 “What has been set in motion cannot be undone. You have destroyed your future here. This is all your fault. This is why your name will always be Mara- bitter. These idols could never love you, and now all false hope is destroyed. No more pretense- yours forever will be a cup of bitterness.”

And as she cowered beneath the cutting accusations, Achor descended upon her with all the force of knowledge and power. He forcefully stripped Mara of all the things she held dear. He took away her dignity, her identity, her ambitions, her pride, her desires, her hopes, her dreams, her self-worth. All were lost.

She was weeping with regret and grief, and he laughed at her tears and slapped them. Her repentance only fueled his violence. He unleased the full extent of the consequences upon her with delighted malice. He declared all the unspoken truths about her failures. He used the power of shame to ravage her entire being.

Mara helplessly wept at the painful revelations that came to her awareness. Salt and water fell and her heart and mind were invaded with unbearable grief. Her entire self was violated and broken.

When it was over, Achor turned away in disgust at her absolute helplessness. His fury was spent, all truth had been told, and now his breathing slowed. He looked once more at her with haughty disdain and spoke his final farewell. His voice had returned to normal.

“I am leaving you now, Mara.” It was said with unfeeling finality. “This destruction will last a lifetime; my presence is no longer necessary. The consequences of your choices will be enough to carry on my work here for many years to come. You carry bitterness within you now. That bitterness will grow and then in due time it will give birth to anger. And anger will grow into hate, which will become your next and final companion.”

Achor smiled coyly, giving one final declaration of truth- “In time you will come to trust hatred just as you have trusted me. As always, you carelessly give trust to those who do not earn it. Your honesty and transparency have always been your greatest weakness. This is why you will need anger to survive from now on.” His tone had returned to normal and his eyes gleamed with deep satisfaction.

And he turned on his heel, throwing the pearls into the wreckage as if they were worthless trash. And then he walked away from her without so much as a backward glance.

Mara lay there in abject humiliation, broken on the floor, vulnerable and exposed, covered with shame and tears.

She had given deep and intimate trust away and it had been used against her. This was to be her eternal shame.

And for days and days she cried, wandering aimlessly among the broken idols there in the Valley of Achor. She could not sleep, eat, be happy or feel joy. She did not know where to go or what to do. Her only emotions were doubt, fear, worry and regret. Anxiety had replaced accusation, and her mind replayed her mistakes over and over and over again, until she wanted to die.

This was the dark night of the soul.

Where hopes and dreams and love once rested in Mara’s heart, now there was only an empty hole that would slowly fill to overflowing with bitterness and anger as time passed.

Her mind endured ravenous, endless warfare. There was a permanent seed of hatred within her being. She could not live with herself now.

But as she lay herself down among the broken idols, determined for her suffering to be over and so deciding to lie down in her mistakes and never get up from them again, the wind changed course.

The same breeze that met Mara on the shore of the sea now made its way over the land towards where she lay in the depths below. For the first time, the sea breeze wafted down into the valley, bringing the smell of peppermint and lavender.

Mara opened her weary, tear filled eyes and looked up.

She could hear a small bright sound, like tiny wind-chimes. The gentle wind brought with it the most sea spray Mara had even seen. It came in over the high walls of the Valley in great drafts, gathering and billowing into a great mist of sparkling light. It gently floated downward towards her. She watched with wonder as it settled all over and around her. The mist was glowing and covering her entire being, and she could feel that it brought healing with it.

As she breathed it in, she felt something tight and hard beginning to uncoil inside of her.

Mara closed her eyes and cried again, but the tears were different now, free and healing. As the mist settled over her, Mara lost track of time, drifted off and and slept a peaceful and dreamless sleep for the first time in many days. Instead of frightening dreams, tranquil visions of hope filled the empty spaces within her as she rested.

When she awoke, the mist was gone and she had been clothed in a billowing white dress, unlike anything she had ever seen. She was radiant and beautiful, fully restored and completely healed. She could feel that her power and divinity had returned to her.

And a Man was there kneeling close beside her, leaning over her prostrate figure, smiling lovingly into her face. His face was beautiful and kind and benevolent. He was also dressed in shining white, and He touched her forehead and He called her beloved.

He was wild and majestic and his dark hair was untamed.

“My Redeemer,” Mara whispered in shock and awe.

Mara forgot all sense of fear when she looked up into His eyes. When He touched her forehead she noticed her reflection in his eyes and saw that she was very beautiful.

His gaze reflected both the moonlight and the bright sun, dark brown orbs with endless radiant depths.

The perfect contour of his face, the dark, smooth skin, and unruly dark hair which haphazardly framed his regal face made for a striking appearance.  He was unkempt, and yet His looks were stunningly dignified.  For a brief moment she was transfixed by His overwhelming beauty, but she quickly remembered her shame when she caught sight of the broken idols all around His feet.

“Oh, my God!” Her regret was both physical and emotional.

This Man from her dream was standing right in the midst of her foolish brokenness.

Mara pushed herself up onto her knees and knelt before Him, her long brown hair spilling all around and covering His bare feet. She pressed her forehead to the ground before him and sobbed in repentance, pushing the broken pieces away from him. A new wave of grief crashed over her.

“Oh, I am so sorry, please forgive me, I was so foolish, I am so sorry. I was wrong, this is all my fault. I am so ashamed. God forgive me. I shall have no other gods before You. I will worship only You.” She was weeping again, hot tears of regret, frantically scratching away the mess from all around Him.

“Beloved. Be still. Stop striving.”

He reached down and touched the top of her head with his fingers ever so lightly.  Immediately her tears stopped and her hands ceased their movement. She looked up, her hair falling back behind her, and found herself once again staring into his eternal expression.

What she saw there eased her shame.  Somehow the world seemed to stand still when she was gazing at the moon and sun that shone in his face.  Her fear dissipated with a foreign feeling she couldn’t explain except to call it joy, which made no sense in light of the destruction all around her. 

She said nothing, but waited for His next command, trembling slightly.  Overtaken with conflicting emotions, Mara was transfixed by a solitary tear which traced silently down his cheek.

He was crying for her…

~*~

Join me next time for chapter eight! 

www.persuasiveabundance.com

To go back to the beginning of this story, click here.

To read my personal confession of redeeming love, click here.

With deepest gratitude for all my readers- 

Rebecca

Pearls and Presence, Chapter Two- Forbidden

The Accuser lives here with me, and I don’t know how he got in except that I must have left a window open. I don’t like him here, but at least he keeps his distance most of the time. I have come to tolerate him. Only I don’t like that he always watches me, and sometimes he walks with me. He is often nearby but rarely speaks. Occasionally he will offer a brief suggestion. I feel that he is waiting, but I don’t know for what. I accept him because I don’t know how to make him leave. Usually he does not scare me. Only sometimes I do wish he would leave. Other times I am glad for a companion in this vast and empty place.

Why am I lonely?

~*~

          Knowing that she must protect her vineyard from her neighbors’ prying hands, Mara rapidly moved through her morning routine. She changed quickly into a tan, cotton dress which flowed gently to her ankles, sprinkled with tiny yellow rosebuds so small that it was difficult to tell what they were unless one looked close.  She glanced in the mirror, stood tall and approved of her dignified and courtly appearance. Although she was a very beautiful girl, she never thought so of herself.  She knew she was decent, presentable, with the appropriate touch of pride when she lifted her chin. She accepted her appearance matter-of-factly, nothing more and nothing less for this princess of the light, for she did not ever allow herself the luxury of arrogance.  Such reserved and simple self-perceptions were reinforced by her long, voluntary solitude on the island.

          Therefore Mara took no more time looking in the mirror than was necessary to pull her waist length, golden-brown hair into a high bun, secure it firmly with pins, and then hastily splash her face with cool water from the wooden basin which she had placed on her nightstand.  She rushed out of her room with an air of graceful hurry, flying down the steps to the kitchen.  She pulled up a stool and ate quickly, as she did not want to face her unwelcome visitor without the basic sustenance to rebuke him.

     Then she pushed open the front door and allowed the morning light to greet her with the kiss of the salty ocean breeze. She was drawn out by the sound of waves as they applauded her appearance. The sunlight made a faint golden halo around her head where it struck her light brown hair from just the right angle.

          The day was warm and the sun was bright.  Clusters of giant white tugboat clouds moved across the blue sky, reflecting their images in the pools of water that had formed in some nearby marshes.  Already, many birds out on the water were diving and scooping up beaks full of sea life to bring back to their young.  Turning her face away from the sun, Mara shaded her eyes and spotted the intruder in the north garden, leaning over a large cluster of white blossoms.  He appeared to be examining their leaves, and a small pile of uprooted roses sat in a cart behind him.

Even from a distance, his charisma and attractive physical features were apparent. His name was Achor. He lived in the valley neighboring her home, and he was the keeper of the idols, those lifeless objects which were the source of Mara’s shame.

She had never learned why Achor first came to her island, except that his purpose in life was to follow her around in close observation of her every move, accusing her of things and questioning her motives. There was a great deal left to criticize, after all.

He especially liked to remind her about the idols he saved for her in the Valley. She didn’t like this topic and refused to discuss it with him. It still brought her great inner pain and turmoil. Occasionally he would offer a brief suggestion about returning to visit the idols for worship, and that always made her feel deeply conflicted. He would remind her that she had not worshiped at those altars in so long, and he would look at her with condemning eyes. And her heart would threaten to break again.

His eyes were always knowing, charming, searching. And they made her completely forget her own Divine inner power.

Achor was a gentleman, despite his sometimes irreverant disposition. But there was one exception to his gallantry- when he pried into her vineyard of white roses it was the only time he directly opposed her wishes and invaded her personal space. Just as he was doing now. Otherwise he never too closely imposed himself where he was not wanted- he knew better.

He made it obvious that he didn’t like her white roses and often searched violently among them, pulling off the ones he didn’t like. He was looking for something- she wouldn’t ask what, she would just order him to get out. And he did- only to return at a later time when she least expected it and her guard was down. She often forgot to shield herself from his influence.

She hurried over the sandy grass to her rose garden, her dress billowing in a sudden gust of soft sea breeze.  There was a warning in the air even now, but she ignored it in her haste. As Mara approached him, she made a mental note not to think of her dream.  He could not read her mind, but Achor was very skilled at reading her face, and she knew the dream would translate as fear in her expression. 

He didn’t look up from the flowers in front of him when Mara spoke.

“Excuse me,” she said firmly, planting her feet and crossing her arms defiantly. “I would have been out here sooner, but I didn’t realize you would be meddling in my garden today. As I have said before, you are not welcome to work in my vineyard. I don’t want you in my rose bed. These belong to me and they are mine."

“Goodmorning Mara.” His voice was flat, as if he was too caught up in his work to pay her any attention. He was examining a white petal closely.

Achor pulled off the cluster of white roses he was studying and threw them into the cart with a dismissive gesture, then moved and lifted up two more from a neighboring plant nearer to the fence.  He continued to scrutinize them carefully, turning them this way and that in his tan, skillful hands.  

Mara bent down to move the cart away from him. He glanced over at her movement, and then his gaze drifted slowly from her head to her feet and back again, then returned to linger on her face- he studied her with the full attention of curious eyes. Then he lost interest and returned his attention to the work at hand. 

Mara stared at him in silence for several minutes, feeling violated and tapping her foot as she watched him ravage the flower.  She instinctively knew that he was waiting for her to do or say something, but she didn’t know what. The lack of conversation began to bother her even more than the unspoken tension between them.  She wondered if Achor knew something new that prompted him to raid her garden with such blatant irreverence.  

She uncrossed her arms and placed them on her hips, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Just as she was about to muster the courage to order him away, he finally broke the long tense silence.

          “I came here today because I heard you crying out in your sleep.”  He stood up to his full height, straightened himself and ran his free hand through his black hair. He threw the crushed roses he had been holding into the cart. As he stepped out of the rose bed, he wiped his hands carefully on a towel draped over the side of the fence with the grace of a proper gentleman. Then striding towards her purposefully, Achor closed the gap between them and looked down at Mara with an expression of feigned concern. Tilting his head, he arched an eyebrow and asked, “What was wrong?” His handsome eyes were very dark.

          Mara hesitated and looked away. His air of chivalrous gallantry was daunting and made it hard to think.  She didn’t realize that she had been crying out loud in her sleep during the night.  But as she could see, Achor already knew the truth, and so she decided beat him to the admission.  “I had the dream about a storm again.” And the man in white came for me this time- she instinctively knew she should not mention Him, because that part made Achor violently jealous. She would never speak of Him again.

          He sighed, a spark of worry flashing in his eyes, and he quickly turned his face away from Mara towards the ocean.  “I thought as much,” he said, an unusual hint of uncertainty in his voice.  Mara pushed back loose strands of brown hair out of her face as she followed his gaze out towards the bay.  Then she looked back at him, observing his strong profile against the light of the sun. She thought of the wild and regal man who she saw in her dream.

She recalled the mysterious boat she had glimpsed last night- or did she only imagine it? She wondered briefly if Achor had seen it, and what he would do if a visitor came to Empire Island. She shivered at the possibilities.

After several seconds of gazing out towards the bay, Achor turned back to Mara, a masked expression on his face where there had been worry moments earlier.  “I suppose,” he paused and gestured with one hand to her garden, ”I suppose you really should reconsider turning over this vineyard to my care. You are obviously under too much stress managing all of them. It seems you are not capable of handling them.” He pointed accusingly at her roses.

          Mara lifted her head proudly, snorted arrogantly at his suggestion and reacted in anger to push away Achor’s hand just as he was sweeping it in the direction of her rose bed. 

          The minute her fingers brushed his, Mara knew she had made a huge mistake. It was always anger that got her into trouble with Achor. It was innate fear of his opinion that made her lash out at him, and every time that happened shame had the last word in their conversation, just as it did now.

With an animal reflex he moved his hand so that he was gripping her wrist firmly, her small hand open towards him in the graceful pose of a beseeching prayer. He held it there tightly for several seconds, looking right past it and boring his eyes into her own. He was taking some of her dignity and power away. He remained silent in order to cultivate her shame and bring his own strength to fruition.

Their eyes were locked in battle- time stood still, and there was an aura of light glowing around Mara even as his knowing gaze penetrated into her soul. She held his look with equal intensity, refusing to break away. She knew better than to resist him, and knew to bide her time with learned patience. When he looked at her like that she knew he could see way down into her fears, where her shame was. And these were the opportunities for him to learn about her weaknesses. 

So she abandoned her uncertainty and stared back at him boldly. She called on her self-worth and goodness and channeled the image in her dream of the Rescuer in white.

This was not the first time he took advantage of her contact with him, nor would it be the last. He never once touched her first, it was always her move- this enemy of hers could not have access to her being without her expressed consent. And so many times she thoughtlessly gave him permission to overpower her by her own careless choices. For some reason she could never remember that reaching out to him in anger always ended in more pain and regret. And like a snake waiting to strike, he always took full advantage of it.

She had made the choice to connect with him, slapping his hand in animal fear, and now she knew the price would be a little piece of her dignity. So she waited until he was satisfied, until he had taken what he wanted from her steady gaze. This was how he possessed her soul, piece by piece, one mistake after another.

But the moment, though powerful, was ever so brief, and though their eyes remained in combat, Achor slowly released his grip. Mara jerked away and cradled her offended hand close against her heart, still staring back in offense. The hole he left in her spirit filled with arrogance now. She found her voice and spoke in a tone that defied her fear. She raised her chin higher and spoke loudly.

“I don’t need help with my vineyard. I want to work alone! Alone! This is why I came here in the first place, to keep my white roses to myself.”  She couldn’t keep a hint of desperation from her voice.  “There is nothing wrong- I have a harmless, reoccurring dream.  Nothing will ever come of it, and it has nothing to do with you! Nothing.” 

Flustered now, Mara bent down and picked up the last uprooted flowers near her feet, throwing them into the cart without even looking.  She continued to glare at Achor with all the malice she could muster as she shook the dirt off of her own hands and walked hastily around to the other side of the cart. 

Anger was unbecoming and unnatural to her bright blue eyes and courtesan face. Achor could read it like a hawk and knew just what to say.

          “You know you can’t keep this up forever, it’s too hard for you to do this by yourself. You mismanage the white roses and make so many mistakes with them...” Achor’s voice trailed off as he considered his next words carefully.  “You really should reconsider sharing your vineyard with me. I know exactly what to do with them.”  He smiled victoriously, seeing Mara’s discomfort at such a remark, then qualified his suggestion by saying, “I’m worried about you, that’s all. The gardening is too much work for you to handle by yourself. This vineyard is too great a burden. You should let me advise you- let me get involved. Let me help you tend your white roses. Give them to me.”

          “No. They are not for you, they are for Someone else.” Mara found her strength from the sound of the sea and the salty breeze it sent her way. She pictured the man in white, walking towards her, and felt that He was affirming her resistance to such a temptation. “No, Achor. There is no need for worrying and no need for your advice or your help. I have told you before- I don’t want you in my garden. I want you to leave my vineyard alone. My white roses are none of your business, they are mine to give to whom I choose.”

In her fear Mara added haughtily, “And now all the ruined flowers must be discarded of properly,” she gestured angrily at the cart beside them. She avoided any more eye contact with Achor as she lifted the cart up on its wooden wheels, because she was afraid he might see the doubt in her eyes. She clenched her jaw with stubborn determination as she lifted the cart, preparing to walk away.

Achor moved out of her way with a low bow and then grabbed his hat, which was resting on a nearby fence, and donned it with a sweeping arc of his arm. He looked closely at her as she continued her rebuke.

“I will take this to the beach and give them a proper burial, and I don’t want you to come with me. You are forbidden!”  She knew he would retreat now, because he never followed her when she rejected him.

“Ah! Forbidden, am I? Just so.” Achor found this choice of words to be comically delicious, and it showed up in the satisfied grin which spread across his handsome face. He reached up to tip his hat to her, nodded slightly and turned on the full force of his charisma. He spoke with exaggerated respect, “Yes, ma’am. Forbidden. As you wish.”

She felt utterly violated by his easy compliance. Mara turned her back to him and felt she had somehow lost the battle, because without a doubt he would return again with more temptations.

And as she turned from him, she heard him say in his genteel manner, “I will see you soon, Mara.” He arched an eyebrow and laughed softly to himself as he watched her walk away, narrowing his gaze and nodding his head. He would indeed be back- just as soon as she started to miss him. She would always long for the forbidden fruit of his presence.

~*~

www.persuasiveabundance.com

Join me next time for chapter three! 

To go back to the prologue of this story, click here.

To learn more about my own personal story, click here.

With gratitude for all my readers- 

Rebecca

Pearls and Presence, Chapter One- Beloved

Inside of the walls of this empire are many streets and rooms and towers, each representing a place in my heart and mind where my idols reside. It looks a lot like the places from my past, except that all of it is empty- I walk the streets alone. I can hear the waves crashing on the shore outside the walls. It sounds a lot like the voice of Peace. And sometimes a breeze will carry a bit of the sea spray over the high walls, sparkling like diamonds on the wind, and I will smell the gardenia-scented aroma of hope. The ocean is just outside. But I never go there, because all my time is spent here inside my beautiful and lonely empire.

~*~

          Sometimes Maras’ life on the island was pleasant.  Other times her existence on Empire was just a way to get by without any painful memories.  Occasionally she dared to admit to herself that this isolated existence was lonely and meaningless.  But she never dared consider leaving.  Her little boat never went further out into the ocean than was necessary to bring back an adequate amount of fish.  No one came to visit. Nothing changed. The only surprise was the occasional storm that left its violent mark on the shoreline. 

There was an unspoken yet ever present fear within her of what lay beyond the horizon.  Was it fear of the unknown, or something much more dreadful?  “What would people think?” was the self-talk she used when her heart began expressing an internal longing for connection.   Mara clutched to such a warning almost daily within herself, so that she could think of no other option but to live isolated as she did.  She felt a constant need to protect herself with a quiet, modest, and simple existence- alone. With the exception of the shame that followed her around.

          But there was one part of her life that was all her own and brought her great inner peace and joy- her writing. It was the one thread of connection between her past, present and future. When Mara wrote something it became true, and so she used her power carefully. Writing was her special gifting, and she valued it highly.  Ever since she was a child, writing had been a catalyst for self-expression and gave her an innate sense of freedom.  She had come to discover within her poems and stories an inner sense of purpose and articulation of her true identity.  Mara was sure she would be creating written artwork until her dying day and beyond. 

Even now, she sat at her oak desk with a pen in her hand, poised to begin writing something new.  But somehow the words would not come.  Often her head was swimming with ideas, but today the minute she sat down to compose, Mara became completely devoid of inspiration. She had danced around the edges of her ideas for so long that she had used up all the reserves that were on the outside. Now it was time to go deep, where the treasure was.

          She wrote several lines which were not her own creation, but ones that she now recalled reading many years ago…

A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,

A formula, a phrase remains,-

But the best is lost.

The answers, quick and keen,

The honest look, the laughter, the love,-

They are gone.

They are gone to feed the roses.

Elegant and curled is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom.

I know, but I do not approve.

More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.

          These words were powerful, and they spoke to her, but they did not belong to her. Frustrated that she could not come up with anything original, she leaned forward over the blank stack of papers to look out her window.  Her modest abode overlooked the bay on the side closest to the Valley, which loomed darkly behind her, on the opposite side of the house from her room. 

Her deep blue eyes took in the view of the wide, gray-green ocean.  She knew she had just missed the sunset from the looks of the faint red colors draining quickly from the bottoms of the clouds.  Her eyes grew heavy as she leaned further forward, resting her chin on her upturned palm. Sometimes her ego tried to put her to sleep to prevent her from writing. If she did not stand guard, she would drift off and lose her best intentions.

          Just as she was about to slip into an idle doze, she saw a small dark shape trailing across the water on the far side of the bay.  It looked like it might be a small boat.  But it was so far out in the ocean, much too far to be certain.  Mara was suddenly wide awake, because nobody ever came to visit Empire Island.  Nobody other than her accuser ever inhabited this place with her- and he would never touch the water or even go near it. So who was it? She closed her eyes and willed herself with artful practice to block the fear out.

          Hoping for a better glimpse of what she hoped was probably just a whale that looked like a boat, she set her pen down and turned her full attention to the ocean view. She scanned the horizon, only to see that she had already lost sight of the object on the water.  Now there was only silvery moonlight on the rippling surface of the bay.

          A sigh escaped from Mara’s lips as she straightened herself and put a hand to her hair, adjusting a few wayward strands, then pushed the scattered blank pages to the edge of the desk.  She shuffled them all together and then pushed them, along with the pen, into a desk drawer, shutting it firmly.  Leaning back in her chair, Mara closed her eyes and leaned her head back to stare at the ceiling. She took a deep breath and let it out very slowly, abandoning her fears.

          It was late, she decided, and she wouldn’t be thinking up any inspiring words for her writing tonight anyway.  She realized how exhausted she felt from an unusually hard day of tending to her vineyard.  “I may as well go to bed now,” she said out loud to herself, unable to hide a hint of forlorn disappointment that it would be another boring, lonely and uneventful evening.  Blowing out the candle which was flickering on her desk, she got up from her chair and padded across a thick, pale-yellow rug to her bed. 

          Pulling back the heavy blankets, Mara crawled between the covers and pulled the large quilt up to her chin in an attempt to fend off the cooling night air.  The fire that was blazing steadily in the fireplace across her room crackled and cast an orange glow on the room, and she closed her eyes in the semi-darkness.  As her thoughts floated sleepily on reflections of another lifetime, she found herself drifting into the narrative of a dream…

I am standing on my little fishing boat far out in the ocean.  I look towards the distant shoreline and see with dismay that it is my island.  I am so far away, I realize in panic, and have never dared to travel out this far in the ocean even on my bravest day.  There is a wild storm breaking right over my head and sheets of rain began pouring down all around me. The chilling wind is whipping through my long hair, which has come undone, and I have to keep pushing it out of my face.

Does anyone know I am out here?  Fear fills me as I remember that I live alone except for one unwelcome companion who accuses me of failure. I need a savior, but nobody will answer my cries for help.  The waves are getting bigger, and icy water is splashing on me every time the heavy waves crashed against the small boat.  Thunder shakes the sky, and the taste of salt is in my mouth- it is the salt from my warm tears as I cry in desperate hopelessness.  The storm rages around me, and I am so far from the refuge of the familiar. I cannot rescue myself.  

I sink down onto my knees on the bottom of the fishing boat, bring my hands together in prayer position at heart center and lift my face to the wild, churning sky.

“Save me!” I cry out into the storm, and the rain mixes with my tears. 

I lower my head into my hands, bow low to the hull of the boat and weep as the storm rages. But just as my voice is lost to the increasing roar of the storm, the wind changes and brings the smell of peppermint followed closely by lavender. And I look up and see a wild and regal man clothed in white walking quickly towards me through the grey sheets of rain.

He is moving steadily over the rolling barrels of the sea as if they are solid ground.  His arms are open wide to me.

 I hear him call me “beloved” over the sound of the storm. 

My fear melts into wonder, but as I leaned forward to try to make out his face, my hand slips on the wet siding and I lose my footing. With a cry I fall headfirst into the churning water, and all is cold and dark…

          Mara awoke with a start.  The fear which had been so real in her dream quickly faded as she felt herself surrounded by warm quilts.  The sun was shining brightly through her window, illuminating her room with a warm, golden glow.  She sat up in bed, the quilts and cotton sheets falling in her lap.  As she rubbed her eyes, trying to erase the nightmare from her memory, she became more fully awake and realized suddenly how she could begin her next work. Pulling the heavy blanket with her, she dragged it off the bed, across the room and sat down in her chair. Throwing her thick braid over her shoulder, she pulled her journal out from the desk drawer, poised her pen, and began to write.

Prayer Story

Day after day I climb the stairs of the tower to worship and serve at the altar of my favorite idols, and I find myself spending more time there than anywhere else in my vast empire….

Just as she sat back to observe the effect of this brave new beginning, Mara heard noise below her window, like the thudding sound of dirt being thrown into a pile.  Oh, it’s him again, she thought with a sudden feeling of deep inner conflict. She glanced back at her writing with doubt, uncertain now about what she had written. 

She felt the accusations beginning inside- you are not enough. Nobody cares about this.

Another thud of dirt drew her resolve to get up and sacrifice her inspiration for the sake of addressing the distraction outside. She pulled the quilt back across the room to her bed, then straightened up and took stock of her emotions. She could not approach her accuser with any weakness showing. Placing her story back into the desk, she glanced out the window with wary eyes and the familiar mix of heightened anticipation and fear rising up inside.

Her unwelcome neighbor from the Valley was meddling in her garden again, just as he was already meddling in her storytelling, and now she must prepare herself to meet him…

~*~

Join me here next week for chapter two! 

To go back to the prologue, click here.

To learn more about my personal story, click here.

With gratitude for my tiny tribe of readers- 

Rebecca