As the eternal drought turned everything to dust, Mary saw her husband’s heart blacken and shrink. The life inside him burnt away, until nothing was left but a charred outer husk. She knew, if things didn’t change, if she couldn’t keep the small spark of life burning inside her, the same thing would happen to her. But the one thing that kept her heart warm enough to keep beating, was the love she had for her two boys. But like all wild things, Mary knew they were not hers to hold onto forever.
And she was very lonely.
So, when she felt the cold wind, the kind that prickles your skin and gives you the chills even on the hottest of days, Mary felt the change in the air and realised bad news was coming. She feared the storm of war that had gathered on distant horizons would demand a sacrifice closer to home, taking her boys to grind into dust on foreign shores. So, when it was her husband that heard the call, that packed his bags and went to fight, Mary felt nothing but relief.
Now that her husband had gone, the wind again whispered through Mary, stirring the restlessness deep within. And she knew the time had come to loosen her grip and let her boys begin to slip through her fingers.
To allow them to run free.
And they did. Creating chaos with the wild pack that lit fires in the dark. And Mary, still ruffled by the wind, began to search for new life.
It was then that Matthew caught her eye. Young and strong, he had walked through the fires, set by the reckless wildlings of the town, to save a boy’s life. The marks of his heroism scarred into his body, creating beautiful patterns across his skin. And Mary knew that if she could have this man, warm and strong and naked beside her, if only for one night, he may be able to breathe the spark of new life back into her heart again.
So, she came to him to tend his wounds. As she rubbed aloe into his bare skin, tracing the lines of his scars with her fingertips, a light within them was ignited. Mary felt she had finally found something she could hold onto. Something to quell the aching loneliness within.
So, she made a terrible wish.
She wished her husband wouldn’t come home. She got down on her knees and prayed for a terrible miracle.
She knew she was tampering with fate but what is done is done. She tried to cling to her boys, to protect her from her own weakness and the desperate yearning for the feel of skin on skin. But they were growing into their own kind of men, one sullen and secretive, the other restless and in the need of adventure, and she knew the time to completely release them had come.
She threw herself into good works, a secret penance to save her soul. She worked tirelessly for the town by day and lay with Matthew at night, the only one who could peel away the hardening layers of skin and still find the soft heart beneath.
For a brief moment, she allowed herself to be happy. For a brief moment, she hoped that her prayer may not be answered.
And then a letter edged in black came to her door. And she realised what she had done.
And on this day her eldest came to her with a letter of his own. He had faked his documents and signed up to join the distant war.
And she knew the price for her sin was not yet fully paid.
And the chill wind blew through her freezing her heart until it shattered in her chest and turned her skin cold to the touch. Two shards pierced her eyes, freezing her tears and turning her soft brown eyes a ghostly ice blue.
And Mary knew it would take a miracle to make her feel again, and miracles, in this small town as hot as the pits of hell, cost too much.
image supplied by JMONK Vision
