The sun of what would be a bright and clear day was stretching its pink and purple fingers across the lush, rolling hills that surrounded their little home. Dominique had roused a cranky, eight year old Nicole so that they could accompany a neighbor to a nearby town’s market. With winter coming, they needed to make use of their neighbor’s wagon to haul the supplies back that would see them through the coldest weather. The trip would take the better part of the day so Dominique started them off with a hearty breakfast: eggs, toasted wheaten bread and thick slices of goat’s cheese.
Dominique always enjoyed Market Day. The little town bustled with activity and everyone was in high spirits. Dominique brought Nicole to visit Helene and Mary, who ran the bakery, before they set about the serious business of stocking up for cold weather. Mary was a lovely woman whose large frame made her seem even more sweet and warm. As one of Helene’s best friends, their booths at the market were set up next to one another. Mary laughed with delight at how much Nicole had grown and ruffling her hair, gave her a sweet biscuit.
The town square was filled to capacity with the merchants’ wares—everything from sweets to cattle could be purchased and with the onset of winter, there was even more than was usual. Nicole was not surprised that her mother paid little attention to her as Dominique pored over winter stores, and her favorite—dried herbs and teas. Having no interest in the same things that fascinated her mother, Nicole occupied herself at other vendor spaces, anything but herbal remedies.
Having loaded the wagon with bags of flour, grain, salted and smoked fish, potatoes, carrots and all the treasures Dominique found for her healing practice, they made their way back home. Dominique sat in the front of the wagon with Laurent, their neighbor, while Nicole squeezed onto the back of the wagon, surrounded by bags of winter stores. The bumps on the cobbled road were exaggerated with the weight of the wagon and Nicole felt each one.
They approached the square bell towers that loomed overhead, visible from all points in the town. Their wagon passed through the eastern entry to Loudun, a huge stone archway that served as the gateway to their village when the wagon wheel hit a particularly large pothole. As the wagon lurched uncomfortably, Nicole flipped backwards off the wagon and landed jarringly on the hard, cobblestone road. The breath was knocked out of her lungs. Her panic made things worse, triggering an attack of asthma. Clutching her throat, she struggled, gasping for air which was being denied access to her lungs. Nicole’s eyes flew open wide, searching for her mother but was terrified when she saw the back of the wagon disappearing through the portal.
Dominique never turned around and to Nicole, lying on the ground struggling for breath, her mother seemed oblivious. Unable to call out, Nicole kicked and struggled against the panic that now enveloped her. Mother does not care, Nicole concluded, God certainly did not care. Her breath was not much more than a strangled wheeze as pure, black fear claimed Nicole.
Fear gripped every cell in Nicole’s body and it was as if a door opened. Lack of faith left a void in Nicole’s soul, and it was a welcome place for darkness to fill. As Nicole slipped from consciousness, the cool arms of darkness wrapped around her. And as her eyes saw nothing but black, she heard an icy whisper, “Give yourself to me and I will make you powerful. We will make them pay. Together we are invincible. You know she does not care for you, God does not care for you, but I do.”
As she relinquished control and gave up, Nicole heard her mother’s words echo hollowly in her mind, “It is always easier to give into the darkness than to work towards the light.”
She was right.