She walked faster and faster.
The footsteps behind her increased in pace too.
Tik! Tok! Tik! Tok! She went. Followed by a:
Clip! Clop! Clip! Clop!
At nine thirty, it was pitch dark, with no signs of the moon or any little star either.
“Where are the people on this street ?” she wondered.
Sweat began trickling down her forehead. A quick dab of her damp handkerchief, once again was to no avail. The gnarled, thick trees met overhead, forming a dark canopy. The fragrance of the flowers in summer was alluring and inviting. But, today it seemed cloying and suffocating. “Why do I have to go to meet him? Should he not come over? Never a gentleman! What do I see in him, I can’t understand, for the life of me?”
The echo of the footsteps drew nearer.
She wanted to turn aroud… to have a peek… but she couldn’t.
She picked up her swirling skirt and tried to move faster. In the distance she could now see a little light.
What was it? What could it be?
A lamp, a torch, or a mere candle?
The brusque movements, the sweat trickling down her back, her hair escaping the tight bun, all added up to a pitiable sight.
She was running now, her breath- a hoarse rasping!
“Damn that stranger behind!”
But the faster she ran, the closer the footsteps came.
The glow at the end of the path was getting steadily brighter, like a guide, a friend.
There would be some respite she felt. He would be there.
Her long strides, gracefully bore her forward with impeccable speed and strength.
The hem of the skirt, dragging behind her, and carrying with it the dust and leaves, the pebbles and twigs.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
Steadily the leaves swayed in the branches above, announcing the arrival of the south wind.
Pit! Pat! Pit! Pat!
Raindrops!
“Oh no! The grave will be covered in mud!” she moaned. “I hate slipping on slush!”
“Got you!” said he as he paced an iron hand on her shoulder and swung a cross around her neck.
“You have eluded me long, you monstrous witch!”
“Leave me!” she begged, as she slowly swirled around tugging at the cross, flinging it far.
“No you don’t!” said the Father as he drew a cross with the holy water.
The sharp screech echoed all around the Churchyard, as she fell on the grave of her lost lover!
In the bolt of lightning Father shuffled forward to the church, whose doors were ajar.
The handful of monks were lost in prayer and meditation much like the blazing candles around, barely noticing Father, crumpling at the altar thanking God for finally laying to rest a troubled soul!
Image courtesy Unsplash.com, for illustration purpose only.
