Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 1095.

The Daily Dormouse.
(aka Bike)
Part 1095
by Angharad

Copyright © 2010 Angharad
All Rights Reserved.
  
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Stella and the baby got me through the rest of that day. The other children seemed to get on my nerves, and it was only at bed time that I was able to apologise to them for my bad mood. I explained that seeing a little coffin alongside two big ones brings home what is inside— a dead child—and it upset me.

It would have been nice to have had Simon home with me, but he was busy advising a financial think tank which suggested what we all knew anyway—that the proposed government cuts were going to hit the poorest hardest. It seems these days that he’s much more involved in financial strategies than commodities. I hope he doesn’t spin off into politics which seems to be the way he’s going. Hopefully, he’ll be home tomorrow night or Saturday.

I did eventually sleep, although I kept seeing the coffins. I was walking along a dark country lane which felt more Mediterranean than England, and the tall hedges behind the stone wall which lined both sides of the lane, seemed like olive trees or figs—I don’t like either, so I wasn’t tempted to try them.

I became aware of something stalking me from beyond the trees and the hairs on my neck stood on end. I carried on walking, though I picked up a piece of stick which felt like olive wood to use as a cudgel if necessary were I attacked.

The light was fading as I trudged along the lane and the lane descended into a sort of valley before rising in the distance up the other side. I wasn’t sure where I was going but I seemed to know I had to go through this dip before I could rise up the other side.

I wanted to run, but the surface of the lane was far from even, and I worried about falling and being an easy target for whatever was stalking me. At the bottom of the dip, I came across a gateway, and there leaning against the gate was a beautiful woman, with long dark hair. Her eyes were blazing like two emeralds, and I was a bit afraid to gaze into them, however, I felt politeness was important and I wished her a good evening.

“A good evening to you, too, Catherine.”

I had to stop and face her, “You know my name, madam,” I replied keeping things very formal and polite.

“I know all about you, Catherine.”

“Might I ask how or why, as I don’t consider myself important enough to be worthy of such study.”

“Every woman is important to me.”

“That’s good to know, madam.”

“Even those who bear my essence but have to labour to express it.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.”

“Those who like yourself came to womanhood by a less traditional route.”

“Oh that,” I felt myself blushing.

“Yes that, you’ve had to fight for recognition of your female spirit.”

“I suppose that’s a succinct way of saying it, yes.”

“Oh, I’m very succinct—it comes with age.”

“Well, I must say you don’t seem that old to my eyes, but I have a sense that you might be ageless,” I was feeling less threatened, but felt something very unworldly about this lady.

“Ageless, yes, that will do nicely: you’re a good woman, Catherine, even if you struggle to accept your own spirit of femaleness.”

“I’m sorry, madam, but I’m not sure I understand you.”

“Accept who and what you are.”

“I do, madam.”

“Do you? If so, how did you have the impertinence to consider that I, of all divine beings, couldn’t distinguish between a real female and a wannabe?”

I blushed brightly enough to be seen in the dark. “Um—I’m sorry if I offended you, it was unintentional.”

“So do you retract what you said?”

“I do if it caused offence, madam.”

“My essence is strong in you, therefore you must be female—quod erat demonstrandum—or don’t you understand these modern languages?”

“I understand, madam.”

“Good, listen to my voice when I speak to you in future.”

“I shall try, madam, how will I know it is you, and not my mind playing tricks on me?” I thought I answered that quite well.

“Oh we have a real doubter here—your name didn’t used to be Thomas, did it?” She laughed, and I felt the whole place echo with it. I felt my erector pilorae muscles pulling on the hairs of my skin giving me goosebumps.

“I’m sorry, madam, I didn’t mean to cause offence.”

“Didn’t you? Believe in yourself and your female essence.”

“I shall try, madam.”

“And listen to that small still voice inside which comes from deep within, from a place of calmness and tranquillity.”

“There isn’t much tranquillity in my life at present, madam.”

“Which is why I am here addressing you now—for an intelligent woman, you can be very slow, Catherine.”

“I’m sorry, madam, it’s been a very tiring day.”

“You make excuses.”

“No, madam, but I find the death of children very distressing.”

“Ah, but only if you believe in the limitations of the physical world and not look beyond it.”

“Madam, I’m sorry but I’m a scientist, trained to investigate the physical world.”

“And yet you use the healing energy I give you.”

“You give me?” I spluttered.

“Yes, where did you think it came from?”

“I didn’t know, I’m sorry. I hope I haven’t abused it or failed in using it?”

“I don’t think so—no, your restraint has been commendable, and you have helped those of your daughters who also bear my gift, to show restraint also.”

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome, continue to exercise my gift to you intelligently, but listen to my voice guiding you.”

“I will try—might I ask your name, madam?”

“Of course, you don’t know, do you?” She laughed, and the valley echoed her laughter.

“I’m sorry, madam, I don’t.”

“I am Shekhinah.”

“Thank you, I’ll remember it.”

“Yes you will—now sleep and feel my essence in you.”

I woke the next morning knowing that something had happened during my sleep. It was six in the morning and yet I felt buzzing with energy—I heard baby C gurgling as if someone was entertaining her, yet when I looked there was no one there. I got up and lifted her from the cot, she squealed and gurgled at me in recognition, and I held her to me.

“You know, wee yin, something happened in my sleep and didn’t understand a word of it. I held her to me and she began to suck my breast through my nightdress. “You’re wasting your time there, sweetheart,” I said to her before feeling a wetness and strange sense of pleasure from her sucking. “Yuck, you’ve made me all wet now,” I said looking down at my nightdress only to realise something else was happening—I was wet at both nipples—I was lactating—spontaneously? Then in my head I thought I heard feminine laughter and a cold shiver ran down my spine.

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