Part 4 [communion]

The sound of rushing water ran through her, its vibrations pooling around her ears as if it came from her own throat. Although generally ignorant of such things -partly by conscious choice – Lorenz had had the magnificent idea of building his house on a place of incredible power, the intersection of two streams. The rather mundane explanation of easy waste disposal had not convinced her fully: she knew that for all his faults, the alchemist was still a man fully attuned to the spiritual truths that lay beyond the senses, and he would have been hard pressed to miss the significance of the spot.

Hilde let her deep blue gown pool around her feet. As she made quick work of the black veil she normally wore to conceal her hair, she spared a thought to the master of the house. Did he know what she was up to during the nights of full moon? Or was he so afraid of the dark mistress that he kept himself prisoner in his lab, eager to watch her silvery face reflected on the philosopher's mercury but apprehensive to catch the lunar madness?

The glittery surface of the stream, which was alive and raging with the strength of the thaw, parted to welcome her body. She was bathed in silver light, clothed in icy slippery crystals. She offered her Mother silence as she had offered her Father song; and perhaps, something else. Looking down into the water that pushed between her thighs, a dark shadow stained the water, and then quickly scurried away.

A woman's communion: blood spilled without violence.