[untitled]

‘Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil for thou art with me.’

Juliana sighed. She honestly had no clue where humans came up with this kind of thing. How did they manage without the absolute certainty that she had? Did life seem bleak to them, not knowing? She had met those who believed, who thought they knew. And they were wrong, all of them.

The Mother Wolf was the absolute truth. Her and the other Gods.  Juliana had seen the Mother with her own eyes, she had changed her form from human to wolf. How could she ever doubt? She knew, she was sure.

And yet…. Here she sat, watching the priest ramble on and on about his God. She watched the devout watch him with rapt attention. Why was she even here? She had killed, but that never made her feel the need for this before. She knew the Mother forgave her for killing. So why then?

And Juliana knew the answer: because she was afraid. She had killed three innocent men to get to the one bad one. She had thought they would stand in her way, so she slaughtered them like animals. She was afraid of that, of herself, and that she would never be forgiven.

She had seen this church, and she had stumbled in with the masses. Her coat hid the blood on her body, and no one questioned the tears on her face. Somehow she felt the need to seek out this God, this man she didn’t even believe existed, and see if she was unforgivable.

The priest called forth those who ‘had not yet accepted Christ into their hearts’ so that he could heal them of their doubts. Juliana went forward with them. The doubt she needed to be healed from was different from theirs. She felt like a monster, and surely this man would know? He would cast her out if she was?

Juliana knelt by the alter, between a woman with scars marring her face and a tattooed man who looked like he might have once been in a gang.  The priest spoke, though Juliana didn’t listen much to what he said. For some reason, she prayed to this God. She prayed to him because she was too ashamed to pray to her own Mother.

It felt like hours, kneeling up there, praying to be forgiven. Then the priest said “And rise my children, healed of your doubt. Rise my children, your hearts full of love and salvation. Shake the hands of those who have become your brothers and sisters in Christ. Rise knowing you have been saved!”

His passion was so strong, his faith so unbreakable, that Juliana felt stronger. Perhaps he was right. Not saying that the Mother Wolf didn’t exist, but maybe he was right too. There were other Gods; maybe this one of his was real too. Juliana stood, feeling vulnerable, but with something inside of her changed.

She hands grasped those around her, and she heard the ones who had stayed in their seats cheering. The sermon appeared to be over, so everyone was converging on those what had been ‘saved’ by this God of theirs. Her hand was shook again and again. She was pulled into countless hugs and she was slapped on the back. Over and over they said “Welcome sister.” Juliana couldn’t force words out of her mouth, but she nodded.

It was a long time before Juliana could get away, but when she did make it outside she finally felt relieved. This was a piece of the puzzle of life. The Mother Wolf had divine brothers and sisters and –while this was the strangest thing she had ever done- they ought to be at least observed.

Walking through the city toward her hotel, Juliana saw a small store hidden between two larger ones. She went in, noticing the small cross over the door. Inside was a small, wizened old woman who spoke very little English. Her accent was Romanian, or perhaps Russian.

It was one of those religious supply stores, just like Juliana had suspected. She looked around at all the jewelry before she decided. She picked up what looked like a rosary, only smaller. The picture beside it showed it wrapped around a woman’s wrist. This would do.

She paid, and the old woman smiled at her.  “So you picked a chotki. It will protect you.” Her heavily accented voice would have confused any other, but Juliana understood.

“Thank you.”

Juliana wound the chotki around her wrist as she walked out.  Around her neck was a moon with a wolf etched into it. Around her wrist was a small cross. Somehow, Juliana felt better. Now she could speak to her Mother, where before she had been too ashamed.

“Thank you.” She whispered, to the one who had given her this courage. For the first time since she had killed those men, Juliana felt hope.

 

Author's Note

I haven't put up what I have for this book yet, but this is Wolves of the Moon. Assassin-werewolf Juliana ended up killing three men that were innocent because she thought they were not and that they were going to keep her from killing the bad guy. She is distraught and (as it says) too embarassed to pray to her Goddess the Mother Wolf who created the werewolves.

Reviews

[Mira]

Aaron:
Thanks. Yeah, akward happens. I don't edit my scraps, so they sometimes don't make sense.
I supposed 'overshadowed' might have been a better choice.
Yeah, I think I will add it. Reading over the little I have, Juliana seems like she likes to kill. I think this would make it not look that way.

[Wolfwind Words]

Very smooth and even. A perfect balance of Movement and discription.. A few awkward word set ups, but a reading of it aloud would catch them.

The one sentence that doesn't make logical sense was that of the hidden store between the two larger ones.... How was she able to see it, if it was hidden? Just a thought.... :)

I hope that this chapter is added in... I think it really does alot to show the reader a look inside Juliana's way of thinking and who her inner self is.

Keep the Words coming!

Sincerely,
Aaron Maycroft