I
The morning went quickly for Paul. He had changed jobs again, though working in an office had not been his desired job. But financial priorities had ended dictating the direction of his career. But now he had the afternoon to himself. It was pleasantly warm for an autumnal day so he decided to take a visit to the local churchyard before going home. It was only a ten minute walk, but well worth it for the peace and quiet that it offered amidst the busy working life of Canterbury.
Leaving his workplace he quickly made his way through the alleys and quiet back streets, until he finally reached the churchyard. Few ventured into the churchyard during day time, so he was pretty much guaranteed peace and quiet. Taking up position on the bench that overlooked the fields beyond he sat back and began to breath deeply. Focusing his concentration upon a bright light above him he imagined that it gradually descended down through his aura and into his body, soaking away all mental and physical aches and pains. After five or so minutes of meditation he gradually brought himself back into conscious awareness of his surroundings. Spiritually and mentally he felt partly revitalised, but his back still ached from the time spent in an office chair looking at a computer screen.
"Oh for a better life." He said to himself, wishing that his desire of authorship had taken off. At least then he wouldn't have to work in a boring office. Everything would be better he thought to himself.
"No, it wouldn't." A new thought entered his consciousness, one that seemed higher and more objective about his circumstances. These dreams, will they never leave me? He wondered.
The creaking of the gate at the far corner of the churchyard brought him back to his environment, another reminder that he wasn't quite as developed as he often thought he was.
He watched as an attractive long haired brunette pushed open the gate, passed through the opening and closed it behind her. She was of medium height and had remarkably beautiful eyes. Her clothes seemed practical: a pair of black boots, a long velvet skirt, a blouse, jumper and long coat.
She didn't look over at him, but merely followed the path along the far side of the church so that within a few moments she was out of view. Breathing in deeply he calmed his mind and sat trying to remain aware of himself and his surroundings. His thoughts focused on the attractive lady, wondering where she'd come from and where she was going, she was obviously interesting to be venturing alone into a churchyard.
His mind wandered again this time fantasising about the possibility of a wild romantic encounter. Was she single? Probably not, she was too attractive to be single. But she was alone. Maybe her partner was a little way behind, or waiting for her inside the church? Without another thought he got up off the bench and made his way to the front of the church. He was alert hoping that she might still be around, but if she was he didn't see her. "She's gone." He quietly muttered to himself as he reached the entrance to the church and pushed open the old front door.
It was quiet, cold and dark inside the church. He stood quietly for a few moments, before proceeding inwards, through the nave and up to the high altar. The Christian iconography still intrigued him, the statue of a crucified Christ indicating a mystery that lay deeper than the accepted Christian teaching allowed. There was more to the religion of Christ he was sure, but the modern clergy – of whatever denomination – didn't seem to hold the keys, they were to be found elsewhere, in hidden and secret teachings.
A desire to bring forth some energy came upon him – as it usually did in such places. Pausing for a moment he used his breath to further calm his mind before taking in a final deep breath and commencing a sacred chant that he'd been taught years ago whilst a member of a secret society. It was a short chant, but he merely repeated the phrase raising and lowering the tone in a slow manner. It was a sad chant, invoking a pre-Christian pagan goddess that had been hunted by an ancient British King. She had escaped but since that day had been seen with an arrow through her breast. Singing the chant was akin to calling her.
Quietly she crept into the church, intrigued by the mysterious cantor. The song was unlike those you'd expect to hear in a Christian Church. Their hymns were far less poetic and left little spiritual feeling within the cantors. That was one of the contributing factors explaining why most people didn't attend church any longer. She took a seat at the rear of the church watching and listening in silence to the man who stood facing the high altar singing his heart away. It was a beautiful if slightly unearthly song.
Coming to the last phrase of seven, he closed his eyes and meditated again. Meditation was something he did often when he was trying to find some inner peace. Nothing else seemed to provide it, it was to him one of the few things that no one could ever take away.
Turning away from the altar he began to walk back along the nave to the entrance. And there she was sitting at the rear on the left hand side. He smiled and she smiled back.
"That was very nice." She said.
"I'm not in very good voice," he said still smiling.
"What was it?"
"Chant to a goddess." He replied not wishing to tell her exactly where he'd been taught it.
"Where are you from?" He asked, walking up to her.
"I'm from the Midlands." She replied.
"Ah, whereabouts? I used to live in Shropshire."
"Really?"
"Yes, Church Stretton."
"I live in Shrewsbury."
"Ah yeah, I went there quite a lot, it's a very nice town."
"Church Stretton's really nice as well. The Long Mynd is lovely." She replied, warming to him
"Yeah, it is isn't it. Do you go there very much?"
"Only occasionally, it's full of tourists most of the time."
"Yeah, it was when I was living there."
They talked for a while, he asking about her visit to Canterbury, she about the chant and his obvious interest in spiritual maters.
"So you're single then?" She asked him.
"Yeah," he said, he seemed a little embarrassed by his circumstance.
"Me too," she said, "I'm always looking for Mr Right."
"If he exists!" He said, "well, he or she I mean."
"I don't suppose you could do me a favour?" She asked, all of a sudden changing the subject.
"If it's in my power, of course." He replied obligingly.
"Well I seem to have got myself in a pickle. I need to get to a friends house, but I've lost my purse, I don't suppose, if it is no bother you might be able to give me a lift or lend me some money. I promise I'll repay you, but I really need to get to there before 2pm otherwise she's going to be going out and I won't have anywhere to stay for the night."
