I remember the day that my wife left as if it were yesterday. It was raining hard outside, and I found myself staring out through the lounge widow, listening to the drops hit the pane as Ann busied herself in the bedroom packing her clothes. I can recall the sound of passing cars on the wet tarmac as they hissed by our home, the home that we had shared since our wedding day nearly eight years ago. It was a truly miserable day and I felt like the saddest man in the world.
We had talked and talked since she had made her decision to leave. Now there seemed nothing more to say. Nothing more to do, except watch her go. My anger burned deep as I thought of her new, so called friends'. In my opinion it was entirely their fault that my marriage was at an end. Ann had been invited to one of their meetings a few weeks previously. I, in my ignorance, had refused to go, dismissing the whole group as a bunch of religious fanatics', zealots' and crackpots', but as the weeks drifted on, it became painfully obvious to me that the group had a definite hold over my wife.
I had no idea what happened at their meetings and Ann refused to discuss it with me, claiming that as a non-member, it would be impossible for me to understand. Slowly but surely the intimacy between us dwindled until it was non-existent and we became like strangers that shared a house and a bed. She had slipped away from me and I thought that there was nothing I could do about it.
As the rain pounded the window, I watched a large, black car pull up outside the house. I turned and saw Ann looking at me, gripping her suitcase in tight fingers. Tears were in her eyes as well as mine. I wanted to say something, anything to reverse the terrible situation that beset us, but the words refused to come. With a wan smile, Ann turned and left.
Although over the next few weeks the weather brightened, I did not. It felt like my whole world had come to an end. I was crushed. Friends tried to talk to me but I hardly heard a word. My work suffered as well. Although I turned up at my office every morning as usual, I might as well not have bothered. I could concentrate on very little and made daily mistakes. All I seemed to be able to think about was my lost love. Then, after two weeks, something happened which created a small crack in my melancholy. I rose in the morning in my usual robotic fashion, barely thinking about the day ahead. As I collected the mail, I noticed an unusual hand printed envelope. It bore no postage stamp and I realised that it must have been hand delivered. Hoping with all my emotions that it might be from Ann, I tore it open excitedly. My animation was quickly dashed as I soon realised that the writing contained within the note was not that of my wife's hand. Dejectedly but inquisitively I read:
"Your wife is not completely lost to you. Her situation and life have altered. All is not yet forfeited. Embrace your true emotions."
Although the letter was very short and appeared to bare no signature or senders address, it did contain another address, scribbled quickly in the bottom right hand corner of the page. My excitement once again increased as I wondered if this might be the location where Ann was now living. The content of the note seemed to make little sense to me. All I could focus on was the first line. If she wasn't completely lost to me, then I would do my utmost to find her.
I called work the same day and explained that I was feeling unwell and wouldn't be in for a few days. Most of my colleagues knew my current situation and seemed to understand. The rest of the day was taken up with research into the address that I had been given and the study of maps of the area. By the time I had finished, it was late in the evening. I decided to make an early start and drive the several hundred mile journey in the morning.
Throughout the long drive the following day, I tried to think of what I would say to Ann, even if she agreed to see me. I felt that this was my one and only chance to retrieve the situation and I didn't want to make a hash of it. My mind kept wandering back to the letter. Who had sent it? And what did it mean by embracing my true emotions'? Ann had said that one of the main reasons that she was leaving was because I could not fulfill her submissive desires. She was quite right. The thought of controlling any other human being, let alone my wife was as strange to me as being able to fly. If anything, I felt that we shared much the same aspirations.
Eventually, by late afternoon I managed to find the address I was searching for. I pulled my car up in front of a pair of wrought iron gates that led to a large farm type building behind. I stopped in front of the gates and wondered what I should do next. As if hearing my unasked question, the gates began to open by themselves with an electric hum. Thinking that they must believe that I was a delivery driver or something, I took the opportunity and drove through the gates and up the long gravel drive. In the half light of the early evening, I could make out two cloaked and hooded figures standing in front of the building. My heart missed a beat as I assumed that I would be discovered immediately. I thought about turning around and driving off, but the picture of Ann in my minds eye kept me from retreating. I would just have to try and bluff my way through!
As my car crunched to a halt on the gravel, one of the figures immediately approached and opened the driver's door for me. I could now see that, not only was the figure cloaked, but also masked as well.
"Please follow me Andrew," said a male voice. "We have been expecting you."
The shocked surprise of his statement obviously showed on my face, and when I made no move to follow the figure, He gripped my arm firmly and led me into the house.
The house was obviously very old and smelled of antiques and furniture polish. The whole place was quiet and our footsteps echoed on the flagstone floor. The other figure appeared beside me, gripping my other arm so that I was flanked on either side. I struggled uselessly as a blindfold was placed securely over my eyes. Then all was dark. Without the benefit of sight, my stomach churned with a momentary sting of panic. My other senses heightened to compensate and I could smell the rich aroma of old wood furniture and damp, musty stone. I was being led by the two cloaked figures through my own darkness. I certainly had not counted on this. I had known the group was a little weird, almost cult like, but this was certainly unexpected. I heard large wooden doors being opened and closed as I was led through them. I could also now hear the sound of musical notes. I strained to make out the tune but they just appeared to be a random collection of deep base tones from what I guessed was an old fashioned organ. The sound grew louder as I walked. I heard another door open and was led inside. There seemed to be muffled voices here and I had the feeling that many people were in the room with me.
I was led to a chair and it was indicated that I should sit. Within a few short moments the blindfold was removed. I squinted and tried to focus. The light in the room was fairly dim. There was no powered lighting but many candles burned and shed their eerie shadows over the room. I was sitting alone facing a small raised platform in the centre of the room. Glancing around me I saw the shadowy outlines of other cloaked and masked figures. They were all chanting in time with the deep tones from the organ.
"Embrace your true emotions......embrace your true emotions....embrace your true emotions"
My mind was trying to comprehend the meaning of their words, the same words that were in the letter, when I heard another, deeper voice.
"Let the initiation begin!"
