A Dithering Coddiwomple
Solanj stood staring up at the statue of the gargoyle. How like life, this stone monster. Hideous and beautiful at the same time. Taking precious time and energy to sculpt. She felt that curious detachment that had been the focus of her existence since the day. The day when her world changed, the day when… enough of this! Solanj shook her head and face forward strode straight into the cathedral.
In the corner a young girl played a violin. So sweet and pure was her song that Solanj was certain it could make the angels weep in envy. She headed to the front of the chapel where an elderly priest was seated, watching the violinist and gently smiling.
He took Solanj’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Come, sit my dear,” he gestured to the bench beside him.
Solanj seldom allowed physical contact but Father Murphes was a special case. A warm and caring person, without the rigid rectitude most of his calling possessed, he was a oasis of warmth in a cold and indifferent world.
Solanj sat leaning close in a whisper asked, “How is she these days?”
His eyes never leaving his pupil, Father Murphes replied. “She does as well as we could hope. The wounds and fractures have healed. You can see how well her hands have healed.” He gestured again to the girl and continued solemnly, “her spirit is still broken, she is frail, and she does not speak.”
Solanj nodded and slowly rose from her seat. “Take care of her Father, and of course, let me know if there’s anything you need.”
“Will you not speak with her?” Father Murphes gently urged.
“What would be the point Father? She does not see me, she does not know me. I do not need to see my own failure staring back at me in her tortured eyes.”
With that Solanj left the chapel.
When she returned to her flat, there was a messenger waiting. His sleek black suit and matching cravat showed him to be a Company man. He held out an envelope which Solanj took without comment. As she entered her home, leaving him on the stoop. He called out “I was told to wait for your answer.”
“Wait then.” Solanj replied, shutting the door behind her. She paced for a moment or two and then took a tiny silver dagger from her wrist and slit the envelope with a single, precise, incision. “Be in Belgium 4:00 pm on the 4th.” was all it said.
Hmmm, “Belgium,” she thought. “Belgium is a big place, no specifics. This is a bit vague even for them. I can’t just coddiwomple off with no direction.”
Solanj removed her darts, daggers, quills and other weapons from their places of concealment in her clothing and person. She began to polish and test the points and edges of each one, a soothing routine she often engaged in when she was mulling over details. What ever it was, it was very hush hush. But, with a little ingenuity, she’d be able to puzzle it through. After all, that’s what they paid for.
Solanj opened the door and the dark dressed man stood precisely where she’s left him. “The plane is waiting.” No so much a question as a statement.
He nodded his response.
“Tell them we shall depart in three-quarters of an hour.” She closed the door and began packing her clothing, along with the tools of her trade.
Till next time ~Peace ~JPP
Written for the following Prompts:
Three Things Challenge statue, priest, violin
WOTD Challenge: rectitude
Fandango’s One Word Challenge: ingenuity
Daily Addictions: precious