One day, in a small village where the sands met the sea... a stranger wandered through before daybreak. Before the heat of the desertlands lifted again with dawn, the Gatekeeper found her lying unconscious by the marble steps of the temple. Around the girl, a dusty white shawl loosely covered a mane of dark locks. Her skin blended into the sands beneath her. Nails dirty and bitten down short. It looked like she had gone without water for days. Lips once full, were now dry and scabbed from dehydration. The girl was still young, though based on expression, she looked as weathered and frail as their small village. They had survived the first tirade of fanatics who rode past, indoctrinating Islam through the Mediterranean and Middle East. In their wake, they left bodies to bury while the screams of mourning carried through every district of the village for what seemed like years now. Although this country would in these days be known Israel, back then, it had been a meeting point for all travelers. A bibliotech of scholars and sheikhs, of merchants and servants. Yet this girl lying here on the temple floor, it seemed did not fit the description of what was familiar. It perplexed the Gatekeeper greatly, baffled by what to do. He was a man who possessed a kind heart and looked after the temple as if it were his flesh and blood, but it was ultimately the Master of the temple who would decide on the state of its affairs. Well the sun was beginning to break now as he approached the marble steps with a bucket of water and a rag. Every morning was the same as the last. He would wash the marble steps to prepare for prayer. After the villagers left, he would wash the marble floors of its interior. And so this was each day and evening, He was the gatekeeper, and this was his work which he did perfectly. Whole heartedly. He knelt down to get a better look at the strange girl still unconscious of the ground. She could not have been more than eighteen, nineteen at most, he thought to himself. What was she doing here alone, at this time of night? Almost all the women of those days were temples and had gatekeepers of their own. She looked rogue and rogues back then were only one of three possibilities. They were either bandits, mystics, or prostitutes. He dared not touch her, as it was the custom to treat women as they would the temples. Always permission was first granted before initiation of any kind taken. "Excuse me, young miss...?" the man hesitated. He looked around and suddenly the beginnings of fear etched their way into his mind. the What Ifs that plague all man kind and lead to the very insanity that they are clamoring to escape from. The What Ifs began then, and oh! He was already running late! The marble steps needed to be washed before mass began. And how could he accomplish this when this stranger slept on them soundlessly? The Master would not be back for another three days, what was he to do now when His counsel was needed most? He considered dumping the fresh water over the girl, but quickly waved that thought aside. If he was so baffled by her just sleeping there, imagine his hesitation should she awake! What then? When there were no words yet in this slumber, what decisions could he make should she speak up and ask? In one hour the rest of the village would wake and most of them would make their way to the temple for morning prayer. He had one hour and decided he would wash the steps, and carry on about his work around the sleeping girl. After the steps were washed, except for of course where she lay, he rang the bell. Once. Twice. On the third ring, the girl began to stir and her eyes awoke to meet the Gatekeeper looking back. "Mass is beginning," he said to her. "Wash your face and come inside. The rest of the villagers will be arriving momentarily." She looked confused and slightly afraid. With effort and what seemed like pain, she got to her feet yet kept her eyes on the floor. "I am not from here." "Be that as it may, it seems for now you have no where else to go. Wash up and go sit inside. Food is served after prayer and here is water for you now." He poured her a glass of water and handed it to her. Her cracked lips parted slowly and wrapped around the rim of the glass. All of her movements looked painful. Her expression bore one of loss and the deepest sorrow. The Gatekeeper looked away. "Here..." she reached out to give the glass back. "Thank you." He poured her another glass. "Drink more. And save a little of it for your face and hands. You must be clean to enter the temple." With that he walked inside. Perhaps the Master would know of this stranger's arrival. Perhaps she is not a stranger, perhaps she is a guest. But as the villagers began to arrive and settle into the temple, among the crowd she was not seen. He could not find her anywhere inside, and by the time he realized this, morning prayer had already begun. |
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