Lucian had his head down, writing frantically. Bartholomew cracked the door open, anxious as always, unsure what to think. No, I said they must be free, they must! screamed Lucian, so loud the halls in the underground cave in which they stayed, echoed three times over. He talked to himself quite often, as the ideas rapidly formed in his brain to paper. From behind the door, Bartholomew: I have someone else I am bringing in now, sir, his teeth chattering. He was always teetering on the edge, afraid of public humiliation, should others find out what they were doing. Bring her in then! Bring her! urged Lucian, of which his name meant of light, of illumination. A woman, seemingly frail stepped in as Bartholomew slowly opened the door wide. She went to bow and Lucian shook his head. I am ashamed sir! she cried. I am too ashamed to even remove the cloth from my head. She felt proud but afraid, she felt right but wrong, yet there she stood in front of the fairest to behold, Lucian, Lord of Deathseekers Club. Lucian came closer, touching her lightly on the shoulders and said My Lady you deserve to be free! Do not be ashamed. Do not falter. You are not wrong. Lest I rot in jail for what he did to me, sir I don’t want this, please help me, she whimpered. My brothers would never let you rot. We will see to it that the court clears your name I promise you this. For now, we give you the stage dear woman, we will hold you up! For this is the first level of this process. Do not weep. It is done. Speak now all truths that evaded you before. Do not hold back. Do not stammer. For you are powerful woman, I promise you! Lucian steadily and gently guided her up the steps onto the stagefloor. Bartholomew looked back and forth, at him then her, him then her, his sweat falling profusely.
Sirs, I think I am part of this club, and my children too. They’re so afraid for me. I don’t know how else to handle this. When in this life the sheriffs will not help, when in this life no one absolute believes you, when in this life justice is too fleeting, when you are left to your own state of unwellness, by the hand of another, you can no longer bear it. No one knows what I’ve seen or what I’ve endured. No one knows, they are my own secrets to bear. And I am not alone! she roared, ripping the cloth from her head. I prayed this day would come! I prayed God would give me one year without him. When you come from a long line like I have, each in the same position as the last, I can see it now so clearly I can see it Lucian! Lucian’s eyes lit up as he looked upon the stage, his face with great regard and pride. His fist rose into the air, tears filling his eyes. I am not ashamed! I am not afraid and I wish to no longer be a victim! My children also need not be afraid. They only tried to protect me. Let them finally ring out what is true. Let them finally shout out in our home, loud and clear for the neighbours for the church for God himself to come down and to tell us we were saved! We are saved, and we are freed. And I, will be redeemed. I will not waste my second chance, one I wish I gave myself so long ago. Lucian cheered.
Later, Bartholomew spoke to Lucian alone. Why do you do this work, sir? he stammered. Why do you beg of me to do this work with you, and I do it, and I don’t know why but also what drives you, sir? Bartholomew’s hands shook as he rearranged some books on the shelf. Lucian put his pen down. I saw it Bartholomew. I saw my mother. I saw her without resources, without support, without family, without what we have now. Deathseekers club shall reign and we shall leave our legacy behind and let the others follow, for as long as our community is in operation in the way in which our forefathers set into motion, they will need us. And you are my headman, Head magistrate in my absence brother! Bartholomew cowered. I need you! They need us, do you hear me! Bartholomew cowered lower and lower to the ground, half-laughing, yes of course sir! wiping the drips off his brow.
Lucian went back to his frantic writing, for he was in the midst of forming another powerful organization, one that would help his brothers recover from their ancestral scarrings, the same scarrings that led women to this very Deathseekers club.
This is a companion piece to my latest podcast episode, When death sets you free.
Jennifer Diane is a writer, artist and intuitive based out of New Jersey. Healing with the Occult is a publication that shares hidden, transformative knowledge.
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