UNTITLED
Based on a poem
She couldn't remember her life before the convent. Her arrival she could recall vividly, standing before the cast iron gates, repulsed and yet drawn by the pointed arches and whispering windows. She remembered the soft crunch of her feet upon the gravel path, the creak of the door and the dust on its hinges. She remembered Meegan.
The nun's had flown with her down the corridor to her room, their graceful footsteps stirring the dust and making them appear as if they were gliding through mist. The door to the room was small, dwarfed by the room itself. She stood in the doorway, flanked by the sisters in their pure robes. It was there that she first saw Meegan.
Their glances met, and the dreams within their eyes captivated each other. The nuns were saying something. It didn't matter. She allowed herself to be led to the wrought iron bed, her gaze still entwined with that of Meegan. She didn't notice the nuns leaving, only that they were gone. Meegan smiled at her.
They were constant companions. They made the dust and gloom their home, waded through the fog in the courtyard as if they were wraiths, stared up at the angels who guarded the chapel. But Meegan had her own angels. And now Meegan was gone.
She lay awake, cowering in spiderweb sheets. The dust was no longer the dust of ages, it reminded her of Meegan, of the misty gardens where they had once roamed. Where Meegan roamed still.
The chapel frightened her now, the impure white of the gilded angel seared her brain. The angel was no longer beautiful, not in the same way. The cool fingers of the ancient statue reached to her from the chapel, icy cold and raking at her face. She dreamt. She woke. It did not matter.
The angel who was not an angel whispered in her brain. "Meegan is mine. You were Meegan's. Come to me... You are mine too." The knowledge rent her brain, but she could not stop the sound of the silent voice, or the rattle of feathers no longer gold. Black. The angel's bright hair and wings darkened around her. The serene expression on the face of the statue became a seductive crimson smile. And she knew, she knew the name of the voice in her mind. Lilith.
She knew where Meegan walked. The nun's who discovered her bloodstained body mourned the loss of the child. But she knew better. The nuns must know where Meegan was. The sisters fed her images of heaven, which she was unable to accept because she knew. She didn't know how, but she knew.
Still a child, sitting through her lessons, words speaking of Christ the saviour washing over her. Released into the sunlight. "Come and play," her classmates call to her. "Come and play."
"Yes," whispers the shadow in her mind. "Come and play." She watches them rush into the sunlight, where Meegan cannot follow. Ever. The night and Meegan became one, and she carried Meegan's darkness with her. Lilith walked with her. She walked with Lilith. She thought of her childhood, stretching out before her. She stared into her shadow, and saw the beauty and darkness that was Lilith behind her. And Meegan was like her.
The screams in the night. Meegan's friendship. Meegan's sorrow. Lilith's voice. Lilith's promise. She stepped into the sunlight, shrouded in the shadows of her dark companion. Sombre. Silent. Lilith's promise.
"I will wait."