The White Mission

The White Mission  By Christine Wichman c. 2014 (written June 2014)

(Deserted, in a Desert with no name…)

Miss Lucy Howe

Miss Lucy Howe stood on the vast causeway, her dotted skirt blowing up with the dusty winds, desolate, abandoned and utterly alone. Exiled from her Great Aunt Lucinda’s Estate, and shipped off to the good Reverend Tim, in God knows where America. 

It had been a good life before her Father died, before she became the ward of his Greedy Aunt, and had to succumb to ridiculous rules and a wretched way of life.

I suppose it was her rebellion that landed her here in this God forsaken place. This compound for Christ lovers, and heretics. She wanted to run away before they collected her, but there was nowhere to run.  

Soon a jeep would come for her and drop her with the other sheep. To be mesmerized by the young reverend with dark smouldering eyes. Who was the man lurking beneath a white panama hat and slick seer sucker suit? Spouting such fanciful words, words that stole her from Australia and landed her in this commune. His smooth talk convinced Aunt Lucinda he would redeem Lucy’s soul and transform her into a Good Christian Woman. 

Lucy prayed in her own way…”Please Universe, send me an Angel…a way home. I don’t want to be here. This is not who I am.” 

She collapsed next to her suitcase, tears flowing as she prayed. Her salty tears lulling her into an unnatural sleep. Was she dreaming or hallucinating? Images appeared, so real, so authentic…most certainly a mirage. Before her an African Tribesman and a live cheetah…

“Are you my Angel?” she whispered.

“No Angel. I am Ajamu… Great Nigerian Warrior. My name speaks to who I am. Who are you?”

“I don’t know. What does your name mean?”

“He who fights for what he wants!”

“I want that too.”

“My name?”

“No, to fight….for what I want. I want that.”

“But who are you?”

“I am Lucy.”

“What your name mean?”

“I don’t know..”

“You be YOUR name..You be Lucy.”

Moments passed, maybe hours…The jeep pulled up with the Reverend himself behind the wheel, he leaned over and opened the passenger door.

“Lucy I presume,” he called to her, expecting she would come to him immediately. But she stood staring at him, deeply into his eyes, she stared.

“I am Lucy. I am the light.”

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Beginning of a story I started working on in 1995. (I might finish it someday)