sacredeyes | Entries tagged with muse

Notes:

on_holy_ground (Darius) was used with mun permission. This piece does not exist in any time line and is so AU it is in another galaxy. Written for the twisted desires of

catwoman28

2008.2) "If you wait to do everything until you're sure it's right, you'll probably never do much of anything." - Win Borden

( Sin Among the Pious )

Current Mood: horny
Current Music: "Hot and Bothered" - Cinderella

145. There is a difference between knowing the path and walking the path.
-Andy Wachowski and Larry Wachowski, The Matrix (film, 1999)

Too often I have seen this in my years of watching over man. It is often many believe knowing the path of God will be enough when the time comes to go on as mortals do. Knowing the path of God is but the beginning of what we must do. It is not in knowing his way that we are saved but in walking it.

Those we read of in the bible did not simply know the path but walked upon it. Saints too walked the path given to them. Not all paths are for good. Some, as with Judas, have a divine purpose far beyond what one might expect God to require. It is the divine path that is the plan and not righteousness. False belief in godly benefit is indeed the quickest path to hell.

God gives us each a purpose and that is what we must do. He wishes for heroes but they require villains. Redemption can be given in the most unlikely places when God’s way is heeded. Judas was forgiven for Jesus’ death. He was saved by the very act of saving others through the death of God’s son. Many wish to forget this simple truth. They believe him to be condemned but it is not so. How I ask, can one believe in an all forgiving God if they can not also believe those who carry out his will are forgiven?

This is the difference between seeing the path and walking it. To walk it requires more than piety and attending church. It takes faith in God to not lead you astray no matter what comes to pass in your lifetime. I do know it is hard for mortals to put faith in things they can not see. There in lies the problem. For if you can not see God and his works you will never walk his path for you must see God before you can know where he will lead.

Current Mood: thoughtful

77. Simplicity is an acquired taste. Mankind, left free, instinctively complicates life." - Katharine Fullerton Gerould

Duty meant many things to many people. When one is created for the sole purpose of duty then the meaning takes on a whole new life, it is life. Peninnah knew humans did not understand and though she tried to explaining their lack of experience and her own struggle with words put a firm barrier in the way.

For her duty had depth. It was not merely her duty to religion, the church and those who came to it but more. She was a guardian, a protector and a sanctuary to any who came in need. That too was duty. There were duties to herself. She tended her own body not in vanity but to stay healthy and thereby continue with her other callings. Life was full for her but it was also empty.

People rarely stayed and even fewer talked. For so long they had lived on the edge of society that they had become hermits. She understood that one concept. She lived that life as well but it was not by mistake or ill-luck. For her it was by design. God had created her for duty and loneliness. Human needs came to her at times. Some days she watched others walk hand in hand and wondered what it would be to feel as they did. In that same moment she knew that was not her place. God had other intentions and she left that desire in the moment and spent her days at other things.

She did not dream of the future. She knew it would hold the same tasks as this day and every preceding day. It was a planned life and a simple life. She had few needs and they were fulfilled without fuss. The weeks had patterns and that was what she longed for.

Yesterday she fed the homeless but today was her favorite day. She could not read but she could memorize what was spoken to her. She still remembered all of Father Chrisofer’s bible stories. This day she would share them with the few eager children which were brought by. There were 6 boys and three girls but anyone was welcome to come and listen. She was not a priest, she did not give sermons but she could spin a tale from the verses of the bible.

The knitted blanket she took to the lawn had been created by an elderly woman who came to pray on Sunday afternoons. It was warm, patterned in red flowers and tree leaves. Peninnah cherished it as few had ever given her a gift. She spread it in the dappled sun and sat to wait.

They were on time. Always. Though one little boy who lived with his aunt always came early. He wanted to know if his mom and dad were in heaven. Peninnah knew deep in her heart they were and the boy’s smile always made her feel light inside.

Surrounded by eager children she began her story. Today it was of a man who had listened to God despite ridicule. He had saved many things of beauty. The children as always had questions. Why did he save spiders, they’re scary? Did Noah have to save the fish too? How did he fit a whale on the boat? What happened to the dinosaurs?

She answered them all to the best of her ability. Even the questions about why God made people all different colors from one family. She did not mind. Curiosity led to learning and wonder. Questions were what made children the precious things they were. Of course there was a round of milk and cookies on the lawn when the story was done. Then play while the children waited for parents and guardians to return. Some parents had stayed and she spoke with them. Some worried about their children at school. Others had problems with money or spouses. She listened and promised to pray for them in the evening. She gave them hope and she gave the children wonder.

The story days were when she felt the most useful. It was these days when she felt like her duty had really been fulfilled. It was more than her duty to the church or God. No this was all of those things plus more. She smiled happily as they began to depart. She would see them next week with another story.

Current Mood: satisfied
Current Location: On the church lawn
Current Music: Laughing children and starlings

127. But you can't be close enough
Unless I'm feeling your heart beat
-All Of Your Love, Hellogoodbye

She watched them come and go from the sanctuary. They were a young couple. She had seen them three times now and they had wanted nothing more than to marry under the big apple tree in the back of the church. Of course she had given her permission. How could she forgo the happiness of another when it was but such a minor thing?

They had married with a small group of friends. The ceremony was beautiful, full of flowers from Peninnah’s own garden. They were not wealthy and couldn’t pay for any from a florist. What was a small gift of flowers from her garden? She was still happy for them when they came inside.

They thanked her. The young woman had even given her a hug but Peninnah heard few of their words. She was distracted by the way they held on to each other. She could feel the way they were connected. It was as if there was one bright soul before her instead of two separate ones as she had seen earlier in the month. She was happy for them but it caused her great sadness.

That feeling they shared she would never have. She felt it with the stone around her but it offered no comfort from its cold surface when she was lonely or when nightmares plagued her twilight rest. In the end no matter how close she was to the stone from which she was made it would never be another living being. She watched them get into the carriage that had come into the churchyard with a great sadness inside her heart.

She was great in power but the church was empty. Her life was empty aside from a few visits from Corwin or Kaycee but they were few. Her life was not part of theirs like the couple. That was what she wanted. It wasn’t about a lover or a husband nor was it about anything encompassed in a relationship of the nature the couple shared. It was about contact. Over 500 years she had lived and never had she been held in another’s arms. She had never felt the elation of sincere words or had someone to tell her tomorrow would be better if she could just hold on a little longer.

Peninnah went on alone and suddenly that didn’t seem like enough. Duty was not enough to make her whole. She wondered if it was because of the mortal traits, the body she now inhabited. Perhaps it was the nature of the mortal form to need the companionship of another. She couldn’t be sure. There was no one to ask.

She understood now what it was to be truly lonely and alone. Few knew she was here of those that did they did not come for her company. They came to the church to survive, for food that she made for them. She wished once they would come to see her for her presence but they didn’t. Deep down she knew they never would. She had been put here by God for duty not to live a life as others had. What was she to do now that she wanted to live?

Peninnah sat down with the bouquet the bride had left for her. The flowers were beginning to wilt. They were like her, dying a slow death. No one would know about them. They would be forgotten soon enough by everyone. Peninnah had to admit even she might forget them in the coming years. Tears came to her eyes. It was a rare moment when she cried but there was nothing else she felt capable of doing. She prayed to God for his mercy. She needed to be saved from the seclusion she endured. She begged and prayed from behind her tears that he would hear her. She could no longer endure isolation.

Current Mood: lonely
Current Location: St. Juliens
Current Music: "You Complete Me' - Stabbing Westward

Peninnah had meager skills when it came to domesticity but when she saw just how many went hungry in the city it was not something she could bear. Taking the little money she had received in the offering box she took to the store and bought a few meager supplies with what she had. The store owner had been thoughtful when she had divulged why she had come down from the church and donated extra goods.

Peninnah left and reminded herself to light a candle for her family at evening prayer. Returning early to the church she started about her tasks. First she picked the apples that were falling from the trees as well as any others of suitable quality. It took her most of the morning to peel and clean the large basket of apples. Once that was through she set them to cook and started the soup she had decided to make. It was an old recipe that Father Chrisofer used in the winter when rations were meager. She knew though that the soup would be filling and pleasant to those who were without so often.

The church grew too warm from cooking in the small living space. She set about opening the windows and then went into the gardens to pick flowers. With a large bundle of them she decorated the main room. It wasn’t the best looking and she didn’t have any tables but it would be suitable. As the hours passed she tended the food and took to cleaning up a bit. Toward evening she lit the candles and felt the tinge of excitement.

For too long she had been sorry for her own condition but that had passed. It was a freeing feeling to return to her duties caring for others. It reminded her of a time long ago during the war. The bombings had driven many from their homes without more than what they wore. Through those times she aided others to feed the populace of the area. It was not a happy memory but it was one that filled her with a purpose. She was not a priest, could not give service or absolve sins but she could care for people. That duty was a great service to God and his people.

Night had fallen but the church remained brightly lit. Time came and she brought out the two large pots; one of stew and one of cooked sugar apples. She wasn’t sure if they tasted as they should but they appeared cooked as she remembered seeing them. She had not told many of this day but word of mouth was a powerful thing. She was busying herself with final preparations when the first arrived. It was the guitar player from out front who had come not to eat but lend a hand.

She was grateful for his presence when the others started to arrive; women, children, men, young, old and all out of luck. She greeted them all, learning their names and faces. When all were served she went about the crowd of 40 or so who had already come for dinner to offer comfort. Peninnah could not be sure how many arrived because she could not count but numbers did not matter. She had little but they had less and sometimes a kind word was almost as good as money.

Food remained to be served and she would keep the doors open until it was gone. Priests make vows of poverty and to serve God faithfully. Peninnah had never needed such things. She was created for that purpose alone. She served God and protected his children. This night was the first in many years where she felt that duty was fulfilled.

Current Mood: content
Current Location: St. Juliens
Current Music: People talking

Peninnah had returned once more to the memorial that had been made of her beloved church. Over the years it drew her back to it’s doors and every time it broke her heart to see the ruins. It was her charge, the place she would have given her life to protect if there had been a way. What chance did one, even a gargoyle, have against bombers in the middle of the night? That did not matter to her. Duty was what had mattered and she had failed. There had been some visits, like this one, when she wished she had fallen with the rubble. She would have remained here in the memorial, a broken statue. That had not been the case. Instead she had flown into the sky and attempted to stop the bombers even when the task was daunting, she knew impossible.

Her head leaned against the cool stone and she cried. She had never been able to cry on her previous visits. Gargoyles couldn’t cry but humans could. It reminded her once more of her failure. Her tears were not just of loss but humiliation. She was so much less than she had once been. People thought stone was cold but in truth the world was far colder than even the church stone had been in the most frigid winters she had endured. She missed the feeling of the stone on her hands and feet.

Pressing her palms to the stone it still felt cool but it was lifeless. Few knew that buildings could die. They had never been alive truly but they had memories and answers. The church was silent now when so much life had shone in it before. Peninnah wiped the tears away and began the painful walk away from the memories. She remembered once a visitor who had lost a friend as a young boy. How he would come every few months and cry at the grave. Even when he was an old man, still he cried. Peninnah had never understood the way he acted in all those fifty years of visits. This day she understood all too well. It was the heartache of losing something dear and irreplaceable.

Turning she headed for the church yard and into the old site. That man’s grave was there beside the one he had wept over for all his long life. Gently she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the stone.

“I’m sorry you had to endure such pain alone. I hope you have f-found him once more.”

Her voice had been barely a whisper before looking back up at the rubble. She couldn’t help but wonder if anyone would ever bury her here and someday remember what she felt in this place. Peninnah doubted it. There were none alive who knew. As she walked from the church yard to the streets Peninnah said good-bye. This would be her last visit home. Her ever increasing frailty would prevent it. She could only imagine the feeling in her heart was one of the dying. Next year, weaker still, she feared it would take her life. With one long last glance she turned her back and took to the streets, alone.

Current Mood: cold
Current Location: Bath, England
Current Music: Weeping

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Peninnah

December 2019

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For muse_playground
For muse_playground
muse_playground Old prompt Gerould simplicity quote
For muse_playground 127.
For muse_playground 121. Everything beautiful happens at night.
muse_playground 100. She/He/They doesn't live here anymore.

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Page generated Jun. 16th, 2025 04:30 pm

Every place has a guardian

But some guardians lose their homes

Entries tagged with muse_playground

For muse_playground

For muse_playground

muse_playground Old prompt Gerould simplicity quote

For muse_playground 127.

For muse_playground 121. Everything beautiful happens at night.

muse_playground 100. She/He/They doesn't live here anymore.