In my book, A Song of Songs: Mary Magdalene Awakes, I describe an episode where the main character is in the south of France in the Languedoc area, and she is investigating the crusade by the Catholic Church against the Cathars, which ultimately led to their annihilation and to the establishment of the Inquisition, that institution of pure evil and inhumane cruelty that hid under the papal skirts of piety.
As she is investigating this history she meet up, in a seemingly innocuous circumstance, with a professor from a local university and her husband, and she stays with them for awhile, in an apartment above their home. For a brief time their relationship is benign but soon starts to take on darker, insidious overtones. Our protagonist starts to sense the energies of this couple towards her and know that they come from a dark place.
She has always had this gift, this gift of "sight" and the ability to see past facades and deep into a person or an institutions's intentions.
She searches why this darkness would occur between them now and comes to the realization that they had been together in another dimension, another time, one that was closely related to the crusade that she had come to investigate. Life had brought them back together again to resolve something that had been left outstanding.
One day, she sits and watches the beauty of the day unfolding: the blue sky, the bougainvillea, the palm trees. Suddenly, the sky turns dark and menacing and as she watches, incredulous, black clouds scud across the sun and turns the day into night. As she feels the energy become toxic around her, nauseating in fact, she hears footsteps coming up the stairs towards the apartment, very slowly, one quiet step at a time.
Instinctively, she stands and faces the door and her hands go up to her belt, where her sword would have lain. She waits. The weather worsens, the wind howls and the floor starts to tilt. Suddenly she knows that she is standing in the vortex of time and has been brought back to a moment where the other outcome did not work in her favor, and that she had lost her life to the cruelty of those who now ascended towards her.
She stood calmly, her eyes on the door, her hands steady on her belt, and she waited. The thought occurred to her that we were all leading parallel lives, and that she must survive this experience to tell others.
She waited as the person on the other side of the door stopped. An interval of time passed, one, two, three seconds, a millennium perhaps, and she stood there without fear, never taking her gaze from the door. Suddenly there was a curse, a heel spun and the person on the other side of the door turned and left. She smiled. The sky cleared and the softness of the day returned once more.
There is just one aspect of this story that I must now share: this was not fiction.
As she is investigating this history she meet up, in a seemingly innocuous circumstance, with a professor from a local university and her husband, and she stays with them for awhile, in an apartment above their home. For a brief time their relationship is benign but soon starts to take on darker, insidious overtones. Our protagonist starts to sense the energies of this couple towards her and know that they come from a dark place.
She has always had this gift, this gift of "sight" and the ability to see past facades and deep into a person or an institutions's intentions.
She searches why this darkness would occur between them now and comes to the realization that they had been together in another dimension, another time, one that was closely related to the crusade that she had come to investigate. Life had brought them back together again to resolve something that had been left outstanding.
One day, she sits and watches the beauty of the day unfolding: the blue sky, the bougainvillea, the palm trees. Suddenly, the sky turns dark and menacing and as she watches, incredulous, black clouds scud across the sun and turns the day into night. As she feels the energy become toxic around her, nauseating in fact, she hears footsteps coming up the stairs towards the apartment, very slowly, one quiet step at a time.
Instinctively, she stands and faces the door and her hands go up to her belt, where her sword would have lain. She waits. The weather worsens, the wind howls and the floor starts to tilt. Suddenly she knows that she is standing in the vortex of time and has been brought back to a moment where the other outcome did not work in her favor, and that she had lost her life to the cruelty of those who now ascended towards her.
She stood calmly, her eyes on the door, her hands steady on her belt, and she waited. The thought occurred to her that we were all leading parallel lives, and that she must survive this experience to tell others.
She waited as the person on the other side of the door stopped. An interval of time passed, one, two, three seconds, a millennium perhaps, and she stood there without fear, never taking her gaze from the door. Suddenly there was a curse, a heel spun and the person on the other side of the door turned and left. She smiled. The sky cleared and the softness of the day returned once more.
There is just one aspect of this story that I must now share: this was not fiction.