In the Upper Floor of the Scottish Rite Cathedral - Part 2
The truth was, we very well could go back,
But there was sudden authority and determination in his voice
It was the first time I ever respected Benjamin
The first time and only that I ever liked holding his dirty boy hands
“Well let’s go, scaredey cat!” I giggled, ripping my hands away from him,
Running up the stairs crazily,
I heard his voice at the bottom but I didn’t care
“LAURA…. WAIT! DON’T GO WITHOUT ME…”
I reached the top and stopped,
My chest heaving, my fear returning
There was a double door here, and it was wide open
What I thought was pure darkness coming up the last stairs,
Was evidently not as pitch black as what lay beyond that double door…
“Ben, get…” My voice disappeared…
I felt strange, like I was in a trance…
The hollow humming was deeper now
It sounded like a well with lips whispering unknown truths…
It sounded like…slow dripping…dripping too…
And it echoed…fading….and returning….
I heard Ben behind me, and I knew he heard the dripping too
Without a word, I slowly walked inside the pitch blackness…
I walked inside, seeing silhouettes of strange objects,
Some human-like, others oddly shaped…some pointy, others smoother
I touched the blade of a sword-like object
It was cold, heavy and nice on my fingertip…
I heard Ben groan in fear
“Laura let’s get out of here!”
I continued walking, disregarding Ben’s panicky pleas
Till I was glued to a very certain position,
The dripping purer and clearer where I stood…
“Laura….look…” His voice was trapped in complete horror
My eyes, getting used to the darkness
Fixed in reverential wonder and bewilderment
I slowly looked up,
And there she was…
It was a statue of a woman, surrounded by the darkness…
As I stared at it, her face became clearer and clearer
She was sad, she was intelligent, her face showing no alarm
As if she expected two stupid children to come and explore her strange abode
She was a fountain…the dripping… those were her tears…
Sliding down her perfect cheeks…
Falling into the dark crimson waters below
Why is she crying…..
“Tears of blood…”
Ben screamed and pointed beyond the statue
A bright glow from afar suddenly surrounded us
My heart pounded out of my chest…
There, beyond between two blue and gold silken curtains
Was a bright white cross… extremely clear and crisp….
Petrifying in size and stature
I was frozen, as if I had become like the objects in the dark
Benjamin grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the room
Behind us I heard the wailing of the statue woman in pain…
Beyond child labor…past many lives as I would ever know
She sobbed in sorrows beyond our youthful imagination
The last thing that I know was real was running down the staircase
Ben screaming, “Did you see that!? Did you see that!?”
I hushed him and said with strange maturity,
“You broke your promise Ben…”
He looked at me like I was a loony…
“What the heck are you talking about?”
“You said no one would see us Ben…
But you were wrong…”
We never spoke about what we saw up there…
In fact, he never really spoke to me at all…
Sometimes we choose to be traumatized, even scarred by our past
I see even my strangest, most frightening experiences
As enlightenment, self-discovery and sacrificing illumination
Assurance that we are always being watched over,
By entities large and small,
Ancient architects of fate
Even in the growing darkness they are there…
Even through bleeding tears…they are there……
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2015
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