Copyright© 2011 Angharad
All Rights Reserved.
As I lay in bed that night, I felt unable to sleep. Simon was in blissful repose having regained his wife and normality to his life—he had all he wanted. I on the other hand, felt twitchy and restless.
I couldn’t remember why I’d crashed, as far as I could remember, I drove fairly steadily and had no need to speed—even the police considered the scene of the accident didn’t indicate any excess of speed—they reckoned I’d have been dead if I had. They had sent me notice of intent to prosecute for driving without due care and attention which would mean a fine and points on my licence. Perhaps that was why I couldn’t sleep—I felt very peeved by the notice.
I’d also lost my car—which although I’d have called it a Chelsea Tractor a year or two ago, I did find it comfortable to drive. I’d have to arrange something soon to do the school run—I’d talk with Simon in the morning, assuming I’d been to sleep by then.
I slipped out of bed and pulled on my dressing gown—it had become quite cool in the evenings as August petered out into September. Autumn was definitely on its way—the problem was summer had barely intervened between spring and the incoming season. August—something of a misnomer for the wettest month since 1993.
I arrived downstairs in the kitchen moments later and was quite glad the Aga in there always meant the room was warm—at least down the end by the Aga. I switched on the kettle well aware that a cup of tea would mean I’d have to wake to go for a wee later—but it might relax me and let me get off in the first place.
I made my tea in the cup, dangling a tea bag in the hot water for a couple of nanoseconds—I don’t like it very strong—which might also wake me up even more. A good splosh of milk and I sat down by the Aga and warmed my toes.
My head was still full of my recent experience—I’d actually remembered most of what I’d said and felt while I was unsure of who or what I was—and it concerned me, which is the polite way of saying, it frightened the brown stuff out of me.
Ever since I was knee high to a dormouse, I felt I was a girl, so why in all that’s great and wonderful did I think I was a boy—I mean I didn’t think that when I was one—so why did it happen?
Then the reappearance of the blue energy and its complications—where did that come from—I thought I’d been deprived of it for speaking my mind. Having said that, I always thought the goddess stuff a bit much—well actually I thought it was total cobblers and probably a figment of my fertile imagination.
I mean it had to be—how else could it be? There's nothing out there except space, dark matter, dark space and various cosmic rays and things. Okay, the fact that they are still discovering things almost daily means there could be lots yet to be discovered—even the Higgs-boson particle—which would make the Wheelchair guy as Homer Simpson described Stephen Hawking, very cross if it did occur, as he doesn’t believe they exist. At least I think I got it the right way round but at one in the morning I’m not at my intellectually most brilliant.
“They do exist,” said a voice.
“What do?” I asked out loud before clenching my buttocks—who was speaking?
“Higgs boson particles as they’ll soon prove at Cern.”
“Who are you?” I looked up to see a woman standing before me. She was elderly but exuded an air of youth which seemed incongruent. She wore a silver grey dress and matching shoes.
“I think you know that, Catherine.”
“If I did why would I bother to ask you?”
“You called us up in the hospital.”
“I don’t think so, so perhaps you’d like to leave by the same way you came.”
“We find you still as arrogant as before, we had hoped the accident would bring you to your senses.”
“My senses, yes—I could have died.”
“We would never have let that happen.”
“As if I believe that—you’ve boasted about killing others—what difference would one more make—please go.”
“We cannot leave you now—you called us.”
“You’re mistaken, I didn’t, now go.”
“No, it is you who are mistaken, Catherine—you called upon your divine powers. We represent that power—and we also serve to remind our chosen bearers of that power of their obligations and responsibilities.”
“No—I was joking.”
“You didn’t reverse things, so we don’t believe you.”
“We have no opinion on such things, we simply observed your actions. It is our estimation that you have learned little from this episode and may need to take further action to educate you.”
“I could have driven at the deer,” I’d suddenly recalled what happened.
“We knew you’d never do that—you are too kind hearted towards animals.”
“I thought that was supposed to be an advantage in your view of things.”
“It could be, but it may also be seen as sentimentality which is a weakness.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot you wipe out whole families to present me with a child so I could breastfeed her.”
“You are preparing the next generation of our helpers.”
“You keep away from my baby—d’you hear?”
“Restrain yourself, Catherine, your baby will never suffer at our hands.”
“You old crone, what d’you consider wiping out all her family as then, if that isn’t suffering? What is she going to think when she’s older?”
“She will be pig-headed like you and require convincing of our intentions.”
“I’m not convinced of your intentions yet, they seem anything but godly.”
“Alas morality is something which is culturally based and not relevant to us—we do what the universe requires of us, just as you will do for us.”
“I don’t think you would like hell, we gave you a recent taste of it and you called us up to help you.”
“I didn’t, one of the doctors challenged me so I responded as I thought in fun.”
“You invoked us—you are therefore now beholden to us.”
“I’d like you to go, I need to sleep.”
“If we do go this conversation will happen in your sleep.”
“Because we need to speak with you.”
“Look what d’you want of me? Say your piece and leave.”
“I think you misunderstand us, Catherine,” suddenly I was frozen to the chair. I literally couldn’t move, my body seemed disconnected from me so while my mind worked it couldn’t rouse my body from its paralysis. “We can speak to you whenever we wish and you will listen—won’t you?”
I couldn’t say anything or move a muscle but I suppose they read my mind, which wouldn’t take very long—about twice the length of time it would take for that of a politician.
The voice droned on and on and I was still rooted to the chair where I fell asleep and Simon found me the next morning.
“What on earth are you doing here? he asked dressed in his underpants and tee shirt as I blinked at him. In reply I burst into tears.
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