The Tears of Time

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Emily sat quietly, her face darkening every so often when she remembered something painful. She talked quietly, sighing every so often or getting up to move the plates around in the sink. She didn’t actually wash them. Ella listened intently, making appropriate mumbled hmm’s and aah’s when the need arose. Throughout most of the conversation it was as if she wasn’t there and Emily were just talking to herself.

Jonathon had died a couple of weeks after they stopped visiting Ella, his car crashing just off the main road with another vehicle. The other driver had also died. Emily had been distraught.

“My mother came to stay for a bit. She did some washing and cooking… But then she left after a while. Dad had an accident at home with the toaster or something…”

She laughed dryly at her father’s mistake. She paused, her thoughts spiralling to other, better times. The doorbell rang.

Emily jumped up, her face white.

“What’s wrong?” Ella asked. It couldn’t be the hospital, could it? They wouldn’t know where she was, surely…

“Just got a shock that’s all,” Emily protested, but her face stayed white all the way to the door. Ella’s head whirred franticly with schemes for escape. But there was nowhere to go. There wasn’t a back door. Mumbled talk seeped through the kitchen door. Ella ran to the windows above the sink, desperately yanking at the locked handle. The door opened behind her, and she spun round, catching her breath painfully.

“You alright?” Asked Emily, her face curious.

“Fine,” Ella breathed, her eyes flickering nervously to the man shielded behind Emily. Emily stepped aside, revealing a tall dark man in late forties. His face was scarred from acne, which made it look somehow warped.

“Ah, Ella this is Dr Patterson, he’s a counsellor.”

“Nice to meet you Ella,” he said, grasping her hand in a cold grip. Ella nodded, swallowing a shiver, something felt uncomfortable inside her at his touch. The shiver kept travelling, within seconds dropping her body temperature. Her breathing became short and shallow. She had to leave, as soon as possible.

“Emily, I need to go,” she said; panic plainly emanating from her eyes. She knew the man knew, and the man probably knew she knew. Instinct pulsed through her veins entwined with adrenalin and fright. Fight or flight kicked in and she picked the latter. As soon as the sentence was out she was striding towards the door, her hands clenched into scared fists.

“Well, where are you staying? Ella?” Emily’s shout echoed after the slam of the door. She half-smiled apologetically at the counsellor, who smiled sleekly back.

“So that was Elanor,” Dr Patterson stated, taking a seat as if in his own home.

“Yes.”

“Interesting young lady. I thought she was in hospital?”

“She was released recently, a new medication apparently,” Emily revealed, unconscious of what she was doing.

“Tell me more about her,” Dr Patterson invited, coaxing Emily’s inner gossip. His eyes darkened to a reptilian glare, but Emily didn’t notice. She was caught in his spell.

* * *

Ella was still running, her pounding heart already beaten its path through her chest and outwards by several metres. Her stomach had been left behind in Emily’s kitchen, and her nerves were fried by that lasting black stare. Her mouth filled with saliva, choking her throat and making it difficult to breathe. She spat it out quickly, and wiped her mouth. Her running slowed to a jog and then a walk, before stopping completely and letting her drop to her knees. An elderly woman across the street stared at her curiously from behind her rose bushes, a pair of hedge clippers forgotten in her hands.

Ella smiled distractedly at her and was about to run on when she looked again at the lady. A thought crossed her mind, so she followed it, letting it lead her across the street.

“Could you point me to the Library please?” She asked, her breathing slowing.

“Oh, yes dear. If you keep going straight…”

Minutes later she was running again, having thanked the old lady and quickly drank the glass of water generously offered. The buildings grew gradually older, changing from houses to shops and public offices slowly. The building on the left side fell away to an open park leading down to the river, and then the Library loomed ahead. Ella slowed down to a walk, catching her breath before entering the Edwardian building.

Inside, dark columns loomed upwards, supporting a domed glass ceiling painted with spiralling black patterns. Black and white marble slabs spread away from her feet, towards the Librarians desk. She joined the end of the short queue, breathing deeply.

“Can I help you?” Asked the woman at the desk.

“Hi, I’m doing a project for school, it’s about the Apocalypse. I was wondering whether you have any less mainstream texts on prophecy?”

“Certainly, I’ll get someone to help you,” she wheeled round in her chair, and led the way towards an older man leaning over some books. “This is Professor Miller; he should be able to help.”

The professor looked up, a little annoyed at being disturbed. His eyes crinkled into a smile when he saw Ella. He had short grey hair, with edges of darker black in his sideburns, and a pair of reading glasses hanging off a tarnished gold chain round his neck.

“What can I do for you, young lady?”

“I’m researching the Apocalypse and I was wondering whether you had any less mainstream texts on prophecy. It’s for a school project,” she added the last bit quickly, trying desperately to seem nonchalant.

“Right, well we probably have some texts in the history section. Odd that prophecy should be placed in the past,” the professor joked to himself as he led Ella through the book cases. She smiled nervously at him.

“Here we are. Are you researching any particular religion linked to the Apocalypse? Because the Christian version is quite different to the more pagan-istic theories,”

“I dunno,” Ella stuttered, “I guess I’d start with the Christian version.”

“Ok, well I’ll pick some books out for you, why don’t you find yourself a desk?”

“Thanks,” she nodded and began to weave her way back to the open section of the library. She picked a desk away from the other people studying, and cleared the odd books away. Sitting waiting, she felt a little like she was about to sit a test. She leapt up as Professor Miller reappeared with a stack of books about to topple.

“Oh my, thank you!” He spluttered, as he struggled to keep in control of the pile. He smiled enthusiastically and pulled up a chair as Ella put her books down. “Now, this novel by Frank Reed talks about the Sibylla and their role in prophesying the end times, and then this one by Lillian Croft…”

“Thanks,” said Ella, as he finished his long ramble with a sheepish smile, “You obviously know a lot about the topic.”

“It’s a hobby,” he explained.

“So, who were the Sibylla?”

“Ah, the mysterious women who prophesied great things. The term was mostly used in Roman Literature, as a reference to the prophetess’s shrine, but it later became the term for the oracle at Delphi… Am I boring you?”

“No! It’s just a little… bookish. Who were they really? Ordinary women who had visions or dressed up fakes?”

“There are theories in either direction, but personally I believe they were real women with a gift,” the Professor hesitated, wondering whether to go on, but then seemed persuaded; “I have a theory that the Sibyl were still around right into the 18th century, possibly even today.”

Ella gulped, turning her head to examine the closest book.

“Obviously they wouldn’t be acting as prophets, it’s most likely that they’d keep it a secret or get dragged off to the loony bin,” the professor contemplated silently for a while. “I’ll leave you to have a read.”

Ella nodded, watching as he left for his own book-piled desk. She shivered unconsciously, turning a page to reveal a picture of an old vase. A woman’s was drawn in black and red, her mouth open, spouting a stream of water which flooded a scene of villas and running people. She swallowed, flashes of oppressed dreams trying to catch her attention.