(aka Bike) Part 1963 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad
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I wondered to whom I could turn to for advice but no one I knew would know much about this, not even Marguerite. I wasn’t even sure what sort of magic was being used, and not being an aggressive person, I had no idea about fighting this sort of stuff. Simon almost pooh poohed my explanation so how was anyone else going to believe me? It was like terrorism, I didn’t even know if we were under constant attack or just occasional ones. I even wondered if Jerry had caused Monica’s heart attack, though that was probably granting her far more power than she had. With the controlling of the chauffeur, I considered that she might be using some sort of voodoo or Ju-ju–racial stereotyping, I know–but I’m a novice at this stuff.
The chauffeur was left to snooze on our sofa in the lounge and after some tea and toast, I phoned Theresa, Leon’s mum.
“I was just tinkin’ about you,” she said and could have been telling the truth or simply being polite.
“Theresa, do you know anything about voodoo?”
“Why you wanna know–it’s a bad ting you know.”
“I’ve got a bit of a problem, somebody is trying to attack me and my family.”
“How d’ya know?”
“I saw it in a dream and someone tried to kill me while in a sort of trance.”
“Youse a dead man walkin’ unless you get dem first.”
“Yes, but how do I get them?”
“You know who it is?”
“Yes.”
“Eider go an’ kill dem physically or send dem sometin’ nasty.”
“What like a solicitor’s letter?”
“No, you silly girl, you send dem a bit of your energy, see if you stop dem.”
“But my energy is for healing, not hurting people.”
“You gonna heal a lot of peoples if you dead, Cathy.” She had a point. “You have da powah, use it.”
“Yes, but how?”
“How do I know dat, squeeze her heart until it stops.”
“I don’t want to kill her.”
“Why not she tryin’ to kill you?”
“It’d hardly cricket, is it?”
“Cathy, dis ain’t no test match, dis is life an’ death. Use da powah you got, or she gonna get you.”
Just then Jacquie screamed and after my blood ran cold, I dashed upstairs and found her being comforted by Julie. “What happened?” I asked.
“She was here,” gasped a sobbing Jacquie.
“Who was?”
“She was,” sobbed the very distressed young woman.
“Who, Jerry?” I asked incredulously.
“Yes,” she said nodding, and burst into tears again. “She said she was going to get me and you.”
“Did she now?” We’ll see about that.
I felt angry which wasn’t the mood I needed–I had to be cold blooded about this, clinical. I called Trish and between us we imagined a veil of blue light completely covering the house, like a giant bubble. I asked her to keep it powered up and she beamed. “Our protection now depends upon you, young lady.” She beamed some more and went off to sit quietly and keep the force field going.
I went to my study and imagined myself as the angel of death, as per the plagues in Egypt–okay, original it ain’t, but if it works don’t knock it. I found an illustration on the internet by a Pre-Raphaelite artist called Simeon Solomon, but it was of little use. Further research showed that the Angel of Death had twelve wings–how would you cope with all those flapping at the same time?
In various places I found different sorts of killing machines invented by God and described in Judaic sources by different names–one was supposed to have wiped out Sennacherib’s army in a night–so might be a bit over the top for a frightener job on one woman, even one as tall as Jerry.
I was left with two names: ha mashhit the destroyer, and mal’ak ha-mashhit destroying angel. Neither seemed the sort you’d want to meet on a dark night. If I used this biblical sort of imagery I hoped that Jerry was cognizant of it, or it would be something of a waste of time.
I would wait until nightfall before I entered the arena because I wanted this to work quickly, plus, I might only get one shot at it. I asked Trish to keep up the blue bubble around us and she nodded–she was enjoying it–and I went off to bed and I hoped some sleep.
I’d asked everyone to stay home but Simon of course felt as his dad was busy with Monica, so he needed to be at the bank. I tried to point out he could become a target although I was sure it was Jacquie and I who were the main targets.
I did sleep because I dreamt I was once again in the temple of light. “Why do you seek to abuse the power we have vested in you, Catherine?” asked a sweet but powerful female voice.
“To defend my children, Mi’lady.”
“And this justifies a corruption of our power?”
I felt a tide of shame wash over me. It was my first thought and I’d ignored it. The energy is for healing not harming. I knelt and answered her question, “No, Milady, I didn’t think it through properly.”
“So how will you protect your children?”
“I don’t know, Mi’lady.”
“What is the constituent most powerful in our power, we cede to you?”
I thought for a minute–I had no idea, but one. “Love, Mi’lady.” Well it was all I could think of.
“Exactly.”
“But, Mi’lady, how am I supposed to stop danger with love?”
“We suggest you go and discover for yourself.” With that I woke, bathed in sweat and just as tired as before I lay down.
I showered and dressed and went downstairs.
“I’m still doin’ it, Mummy? The protection thingy.”
“Thank you, darling,” I hugged her and went through to the kitchen and switched on the kettle. Stella came to join me.
“How long is this nonsense going to continue?”
“What nonsense?”
“Being attacked by phantoms or whatever?”
“We’re under a psychic attack. If you don’t believe me ask the chauffeur chap.”
“I can’t, can I.”
“Why not?” I jumped up.
“Because your stupid husband took him back up to London for Henry to deal with.”
“Why?”
“Ask Simon, not me.”
I sat down and drank my tea; Stella poured herself a cup and sat down again.
“I will when he comes home.”
“So what do we do next?”
“I’m not sure, it’s all a bit beyond me.” I shrugged, but it was the truth.
“Well you’re the woman with the blue light–can’t you sling a thunderbolt at her?”
“You know as well as I do it doesn’t work like that.”
“How does it work then?”
“It works through love.”
She sipped her tea then looking at me asked, “Can’t you kill her with love?”
“Seems to be a bit of an oxymoron, doesn’t it, killing with love?”
“Yeah, I suppose it does.”
“Killing me softly with his love, killing me softly, with his love,” I sang.
“Okay, I surrender,” said Stella, “You go and sing at that bloody woman, she’ll give in quickly if she has any sense.”
“Hey, that’s not funny–I can sing alright.”
“Come off it, Cathy, if we had a donkey in the field he’d be declaring his love for you after that braying.”
“Thanks a bunch, Stella,” I glared back at her and she burst into laughter and drew an imaginary number one in the air.
Comments
I THINK
No.
I actually think this will work.
Killing me softly with his music.
Killing with love.
Isn't that what paedophiles do in a twisted sort of way?
Sorry,letting my own issues cloud Cathy's issue. But it's food for thought. Maybe Cathy could use love as a sort of disinfectant to dispose of the evil that this Jerry employs.
Still lovin' it Ang.
Thanks.
Bevs
xx
I have to roll my eyes at Shekinah's explanation
Killing is not inherently evil, it happens in the stupid bible all the time with flaming swords and stuff.
Kim
Did the Shekinah Glory
give Cathy a way to cure Geraldine of her dark power? Is her dark power from the anti glory?
May Your Light Forever Shine
cure hate with love?
Seems kind of hokey but hey, something has to work.
Hey...
I bet Cathy only needs one bucket to carry a tune. (I've been told I need at least two.)
Interesting approach... I do wonder a bit whether Jerry's ever (or at least recently) experienced much in the way of love, and how she'd react to a loving cocoon surrounding her.
Looking forward to seeing how you resolve this.
Thanks,
Annette
P.S. Somehow, I think you meant for us to think of something like Killing Me Softly.
Love is the opposit.
Of hate and when you are battling with energy you work with opposits. It is not fighting fire with fire . But with watter. You fight hate with love. You fight darkness with light.
Catherin needs to use the power of the glory to light that bit#$ up and burn the darkness away. All in a loving manner
The song is "Killing me softly." By Raberta Flack " He is killing me softly with his song. "
Huggles
Michele
With those with open eyes the world reads like a book
Great Idea!
Love conquers all ... unless the slimy bitch kills you first!
Red MacDonald
Going to be
interesting to find out just how Cathy intends to tackle Jerry, Its all very well for Mi'Lady to tell her go discover for herself , But a bigger clue would have been nice ... But never mind Cathy has been against the odds before and won through, And i have no doubt she will again ... Hopefully!
Kirri
Playing catch-up...
...while also writing the summaries for each one (I must be mad), so generally not commenting for the sake of speed.
However, I thought I'd share my speculation on what Shekinah's recommended approach may be, before getting to read it:
Given Jerry seems to be a rather vindictive soul, maybe something happened in her past which lead to her going dark (in the figurative sense, duh!). So perhaps Cathy is to probe further into Jerry than before, probe beyond the DIY abortion and attempted poisoning to find out what (figuratively) poisoned Jerry; guiding her to deal with it, lock it away and move on - so similar to what she did with Danny when he first arrived.
As the right side of the brain controls the left side of the body, then only left-handers are in their right mind!