AMELIE - PART IV
© Tamsin L. Silver 2013
Once alone, I glanced about the room. It was a simple room with a white board at the front of the room. Surrounding the room were children’s drawings depicting a story from the Bible. These specifically was of the miracle where Jesus fed the four thousand on seven loaves of bread and a few fish. This miracle, other than the resurrection, is the only miracle to show up in all four of the gospels in the New Testament and the children had noted the different scriptures on the drawings.
I smiled, letting my fingers glide along each one as I passed by. As I reached the end, one sparked under my touch. I noticed the signature of the artist was Davis MacGregor. Wasn’t that the last name Killian had said? Davey’s real name was Davis. I thought how that would very likely fit him when he was older and grew into the prominent cheekbones his brother had.
The window here drew my attention. Like the other building, this was stained glass, but in a modern setting. The picture of this window was simply the face of Jesus. Or rather, what man had decided Jesus looked like, which wasn’t close at all. However, the meaning was what mattered. That meaning caused my heart felt heavy. I knelt before the window and fell prostrate, arms stretched forward. “Oh Father, why am I here? Why have you banished me? What have I done to deserve this frail, human body? To be bound on this earth?” Tears slid down my face as I lifted my face to the window.
Sun suddenly shone through the clouds outside, hitting the window, projecting the face of the Son onto my face. In that moment I felt His love, arms around me, as the words on the white board at the front of the room caught my eye. They said, “Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the heathen, I will be exalted in the earth. –Psalm 46:10.”
Raising up on my knees, I spread my arms and wings wide. With my head tilted back, eyes closed, I let the sun warm me. I tried to still my spirit to remove the fear and pain I felt. Once calmness steadied me, I said, “Dear Heavenly Father, I will calm my spirit so you may show me what I need to know. For thou are the Lord my God, all knowing, and all loving. Help me exalt you on the earth.”
In the moments that passed, I let the silence of the room settle me. With no idea how long it had been, I heard a gasp in the hallway. Turning my head, I saw a pretty woman in her early forties with green eyes and blonde hair that fell to her shoulders.
“I’m sorry. You didn’t answer when I knocked. I…”
Pulling my wings into my body to make room to move, I turned to face her. “That is my error. I was meditating for guidance. Please, come in. You are Pastor Steven’s wife.”
She nodded. “Patrice.”
“I’m Amelie. Will you help me out of this dress? I’m sure there are scrapes on my back I cannot reach.”
“Of course.” Patricia shut the door and walked toward me, her square heels, that matched her skirt and blouse in a way that said she’d been at a church function, clacked on the floor as she approached me with only a slight hesitation.
“Your help is much appreciated. I am not accustomed to human clothing.”
“I can imagine.”
She helped me out of the dress and cleaned wounds I could not see while explaining human, female undergarments to me. At which point she assisted in picking out a bra and underwear that fit me. Following which, she selected a pair of drawstring pants, a long sleeved t-shirt, and some small white, lace up shoes. After helping me to heal area’s I couldn’t see, she asked about cutting holes in the shirt.
“No need. At least, I don’t think so. I need some time to be alone.”
“Of course.” With a backwards glance, her green eyes once again taking in my form, she left. Through the shut door, she said, “There’s a mirror in the ladies room next door. If you care to see the outfit before you leave.”
Curiosity piqued, I waited a moment, wrapped my wings around me, gathered the clothes, and quickly moved next door into the ladies room. Once there, I found a full length mirror and looked over my human body. I was rather fascinated. From what I remembered, I didn’t exactly look like this in heaven, but this was the human form of me. It was pale, not overly tall nor short, slender but with some curves and muscle tone. I had sex organs, which I found interesting seeing as I didn’t have them in heaven.
Turning to look at my wings, I decided to attempt to close them into my skin. I knew this would hurt. I remembered that. Laying them perfectly down my back I pulled them in tight while imagining my skin moving out to pull them inside. The tender human flesh began to burn and I let out a tiny yelp of pain as the skin seared with a burning sensation. I gripped the counter and watched my blue eyes, the dark rings inside them appearing to swirl like a kaleidoscope. The minute focused on that, the pain subsided a bit. Then, with the feeling as if someone slammed a door into my tender backside, the pain vanished.
Now as I turned so my back reflected into the mirror, my wings were bound, inside my flesh. The only remnants of their existence were the black outlining of each feather on my back, in the shape of my wings. I was surprised that they didn’t travel down my buttocks, since when my wings lay flat to my back they easily covered that. Instead, it looked like what I remember human’s calling a tattoo.
I tugged on the underwear and bra, noting the sizes that fit me so as to somehow get more. Thankfully, the bra, though it lay over the wings tattoo, it did not hit the area where the wings attached to me. If I was careful, I should be able to pull them out from my skin without undoing the bra. I slide on the shirt and drawstring pants, which were short on me, but she called them capris. Said they were supposed to be short. With a shrug, I picked up on the shoes that said “Keds” on the back, and pulled them on. Staring into the mirror again, I dragged a hand through my hair, and exited the ladies room.
Intent on collecting up the clothes Killian had left for me, in case any others fit, I stepped back into the Sunday School room. I came up short when I saw Patrice standing there, holding one of my feathers.
Her face smoothed out and she lay it on the pile of clothes. “I brought you a few more things your size and this duffle bag. I found this on the floor.”
“Thank you,” I put my hand out for the feather.
Patrice placed it in my open palm. “Come, my husband would like to speak with you.”
I put the feather into the bag and zipped it closed. “Of course.”
Noting the bag had a strap, I slung it over my shoulder and followed her out. As we headed down the glass hallway, she reached out to me, a round piece of wrinkled material in her hand.
“For your hair.”
She imitated how to pull it through, called it a scrunch-ee, and handed it back. Walking back into the beautiful sanctuary, I did as she’d done and pulled my long curls back from my face with the scrunch-ee-thingy and almost giggled when Killian, at the sight of me, popped up faster than a groundhog from his hole.
“Wow!” Davey said. “What did you do with your wings?”
I knelt by him and said, “I hid them. Did I do a good job?”
He nodded emphatically.
Killian stepped forward. “I went back for your sword, but it wasn’t there.”
I set the duffle bag down on one of the steps to the pulpit platform and sighed. “She’s being cheeky.” I put my hand out, palm up. “Esther, it’s not nice to toy with the humans. Come.”
In a flash of light, I felt the grip of my hand and a half long sword nestle into my hand before the brightness of the weapon dimmed to see it.
“Holy sh…tuff!” Killian blurted.
“Wow!” Davey said.
“You can just call it like that?” Killian asked.
“It’s a she, and yes, I can, she is my star. She belongs to me and I to her. She is with me always.” To prove my point, I lay her hilt along the top of my left forearm. In another flash, this one painful like the binding of my wings, Esther sunk into my flesh. Her black outline now shone, running from my wrist to up my arm, an exact replica of her elegance, but smaller.
“Wicked tat,” Killian said, his grin infectious, making both Davey and I smile in return.
“I always thought so.”
Pastor Steven approached now. “Are you hungry? Do you eat?”
I thought on that for a moment. “I would assume that seeing as I have all the plumbing required to be human and female, I must eat to give this body energy to function.”
“Do you eat in heaven?” Davey asked, his brown eyes full of wonder and sincerity.
“No. Our heavenly bodies do not require it. We live on God’s breath and word alone.”
Patricia didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands, so she said, “How about I make us some soup back in the kitchen?”
“That would be lovely, Patti,” Pastor Steven said.
With a nod but no affection I could see, Patricia walked away without a second glance at anyone other than me. The pastor, however, his eyes watched her until she couldn’t be seen anymore, and even then lingered on the closed door. I was beginning to understand the stress of this family unit. I wondered if I was here to help mend it.
I was pondering that thought when an explosion outside slammed into the double doors of the church, blowing them inward with such force, that one came off its hinges while the other cracked in half.