Mary's depression was deepening. It had been weeks since she arrived at Uncle Jonathan's farm. She didn't trust him. The way he looked at her chilled and disgusted her. Joe's visits were becoming less and less frequent. She was beginning to feel that she could not depend on him. She couldn't depend on anyone.
Mary had not been inside a church since long before her father deserted his family. She didn't know how to pray; didn't know if there was a God. But she felt a whisper in her soul; a faint whiff of something, she didn't know what. She addressed that Something: “Get me out of here. Show me the way. Tell me what to do. I'm tired. I'm at the end. I can't do it.”
Uncle Jonathan was on the front porch, as usual. Getting more drunk than usual. Mary went to bed early. She couldn't bear to watch him any longer.
Her dream returned. She was back among the marble columns. There was a sparkling fountain and clear, clean pool. A lush green garden lay beyond the marble statues. She lay down on the granite bench and fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. At once she was enveloped in indescribable confidence, peace and joy. Mary was happier than she had ever been in her life. She wanted this feeling to last forever.
But, as before, it didn't. The white dream faded, and in its place darkness descended on Mary, pinning her beneath its monstrous weight. She fought wildly for breath. She was losing consciousness. She was unable to scream.
Mary awoke with a start. She thought she heard Uncle Jonathan's sluggish footsteps going down the hall.
No comments:
Post a Comment