The Beaded Tapestry

Completed this amulet. Changed my mind about the additional embellishment. A nice piece to wear to work.

The body of the amulet bag is complete. Now on to the necklace design.

Lightning flashes in the distance, lighting up the dark purple clouds from below. Boats struggle ahead of the storm, moving with as much speed as they can manage to get safely anchored in the harbor before the winds arrive.  The feel of immense pressure builds around the building as another forked strike is seen hitting the waves far out across the sea. The rumble of thunder follows, echoing within the cathedral ceiling.  The flashes outside reflect off the elaborate paintings decorating the ceiling; depictions of the apostles following the teachings of their savior by assisting the community to live a humble life.

The minister halts his administrations to the dead, waiting out the echoes of the storm that drown his words. A dark haired woman stands on the opposite side of the street, glaring at the closed doors of the church.  She can hear the echoes of the thunder within the building and the threatening clouds bearing down on her, but she will not seek shelter within the walls of the church. She knows if she enters the structure, it will be to acknowledge that her mother is gone.  The minister starts to speak again, telling of the journey into the afterlife, and the promise of meeting loved ones once more, but the woman does not hold these beliefs to be true.  She knows if she enters the church that will be the last time she sees her mother’s face and there will be no reunion at the end. 

The storms intensity increases and soon the rain is heralded by a massive branching of lightening covering the entire visible sky.  Drenched, the woman turns her back on the ceremony and the acceptance of the departure of her mother.

Dear sister,

Our mother once told me this story about the death of our grandmother. It still haunts me to this day and I have no idea why it has been on my mind today. We have been so fortunate to have both our parents with us still and I sometimes forget how devastating it must have been for our mother to lose her own mother at so young an age. I believe I was only six at the time, so I remember very little of her. You had her for even less time, but we both could have benefitted by knowing her for longer. I guess that must be the reason for my thought right now. I miss both our parents and could use the keen listening ear of our mother and the logic of our father right now. The constant interrogation from my captors is wearing on me. I would never break any type of confidentiality, but I also am losing touch with my sanity in this forced solitude.

There is also something else that plays on my psyche. I do not know if it is the lack of communication with other humans or something else. At first I thought it was the surveillance from the man and woman. I am sure they are watching me somehow in my small quarters, but there is also something else. I feel a darkness watching me. I do not know how else to describe it. Not a malevolent eye, but something heavy and devoid of light. Like looking at a picture in negative and knowing what the image is behind it. This may also be why the lightning storm mother described came to mind. I always imagined the storm was the dissipation of grandmother’s energy into the universe and not a simple storm. I once explained this concept to mother. I like to believe it gave her some comfort, knowing her mother was scattered across eternity. She only looked at me after my description with a small tear standing at the corner of her eye. It is funny how I remember that detail. We never spoke of it again.

As you can gather I have nothing relevant about my situation to relate to you; only musings about my current state of mind. The sensation of being watched by outside forces may only be my imagination acting out of boredom. I have now been kept in this small unit for three weeks with only access to the short corridor leading to the sanitary unit. I have tried to return to the research on the Anomaly that is stored in my embedded unit’s memory, but my worry that I could get caught accessing it outweighs my need to occupy my time. I hide under my sleeping sheet during my short conversations with you, but to conduct study under those conditions is not ideal. I have read several novels to distract myself, but that is exonerating my awareness of the dark presence. As I read the intensity of being watched increases and I catch myself looking back feeling like someone is reading over my shoulder. Questions pop into my head as I read, asking me to elaborate on what the author means and where the story is headed. Since most of these books I have read more than once, they are not new to me. It seems strange that my subconscious would be asking questions. The inquiries’ feel like they are coming from a curious child, wanting to know the end of the book before we get there.

Because of this, I stopped reading altogether several days ago.  The barrage of questions became so vivid as I came to the part in Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land where the main character is being interrogated by the crowd that I shut the reading program and covered my ears with my hands, trying to shut out the words. It felt so real and so insistent with genuine fear and concern for the character that I could no longer ignore the voice. 

I can still sense the spectre in the last days, but it is not near as intense as when I am reading or when the man or woman interrogates me.  Their questioning also seems to aggravate the apparition; silently questioning me over the actions of my captors.  I am not sure what it is but I feel it might be my grasp on reality finally slipping.  If something does not change soon to break the chain of events, I am not certain I will survive intact.

Love Annalis