Lord, Let It Be

• Kate Ferraro, Grade 7, Hornsby Girls High School
• Short Story
• 2016

Excellence Award in the 'Top Secret 2016' competition

The moon hung glistening in the sky; a bright white orb untouched by the weathering of time. About it, the unfathomable black veil of night was pierced by the pinpricks of light that humans called stars. That light; unemotional yet constant: steady. Oh, were it that I were them; I could observe but not take part. I could be detached and yet remain.

Lord, let it be.

Wind rustled through the treetops and skimmed through my tawny feathers and yet my prayer, if it was heard, remained answered. Reluctantly, I stretched my long, powerful wings and prepared for flight. One flap was all it took and then I was airborne, gliding between the widely spread trunks of the forest. At this speed, it was not long before my destination was in sight. Grim, I braced myself for the task ahead.

On silent wings, I flew until I was only a few meters from the house. Then I made my transformation. The falcon was gone. In its place was a slender girl, no more than ten year old, with a black waterfall of hair that fell to her waist. With feline grace, I swung myself up to the window ledge and winced as wood splinters buried themselves into my immortal palms. Red blood stained my hands and dripped, warm, down my wrists. With a muttered curse, I shoved the unlocked window aside and dropped, barefoot, to the floor.

The room inside adorned by a roughly woven rug featuring something that might have been meant to be a cow on a pasture but could just as easily have passed for something else. Honestly, I couldn’t tell. However, it was not the rug for which I had come. In the corner of the room, the little girl sat; ignorant of my presence.

So fragile.

So innocent.

Regret tore at my heart at the task that had to be done. Despite what the stories said, I did have a heart and it was one that insistently tormented me for what I have done, for what I was about to do. Death, yes, that is my name, and what a foul name it is too. I would much have preferred something sweet and fluent. Instead, I am feared and scorned and hated for what I am. And believe me; I take no pleasure in my tasks.

Suddenly, the door was flung open and I was faced with the mother. She saw me and screamed. In an instant, the house was filled with movement as people raced to the room but they were too late. I was long gone. Behind me, the prone body of the woman lay sprawled in the doorway and the little girl sat in the corner, wide eyed with horror as she watched the scene unfold.

Unbidden, memories raced to engulf me. Memories of those long dead, their terror, their hate, their pain. At least they could now be at peace. For me, there is no escape.

Lord, let it be.