Malachi's Task

At first there was confusion. Those who heard my tale found it strange to juxtapose dreaming and waking, ancient times with modern day. They felt it strange to extract deep, philosophical truths from such a noisome rabble as ducks on a pond. There seemed no place for lyrical prose amidst every day living.

What was Malachi's task? Did he come to observe a brief moment of a human life or guide me forward; to open me to new thoughts; to somehow ease my turmoil by letting go?

There are many questions and few answers. You, who now read this tale will have to judge for yourself. He will speak to you, too, through my words. It may be his message is more yours than mine. I do not know, but you might.

He came to me first in a dream. Three men in their middle years, dressed in grey suits, tall, imposing, visited our small community. Strangers made welcome by everyone, old and young alike, who stayed longer than planned because they felt at home.

In the dream I knew he was special. He stood taller than the others, his short brown hair fitted around his scalp. Fine, high cheekbones spoke of nobility, while his clear, piercing eyes saw into deepest places when you were least expecting it. He only had to look at me and my heart thrilled.

For some reason, I wanted to challenge him, to prove he could not be all he claimed. In the dream I was young, bright with promise, wanting to make my mark. One mealtime everyone sat talking after eating their fill. I was sitting next to one of the Elders who sat beside the tallest visitor. I leaned across the Elder, asking the visitor guarded questions about magic and mystery. He answered me with knowledge he could not have had. He said he knew people long dead who had brought magic back into our world, had taught them some of what they knew. I knew he could not be that old and still alive; still vital, still expecting to share pleasures with the woman he chose.

I knew we would be together, intimate. I waited for him in my sleeping quarters under my blanket, a thick grey blanket hiding my nakedness from view. I was expecting him to come alone, but he arrived with others, dressed in his suit, apologising for his departure, but they had to go.

He sat beside me, trying to stem my disappointment. I could feel the concern of his companions, who stood waiting for him in the background. He did not have time for this, they had to go. In his hand he held a golden disc, shining, vibrant -- a single blood spot pulsing in the top left hand corner. I was overwhelmed with the beauty of his gift.

He leaned towards me, lifting the blanket; before I knew it, his hand reached my secret entrance and the disc was inserted deep inside me. I sensed it pulsing in the warm darkness. This was his promise, he would return.

Weeks later, back in the waking world, he came to me a second time. I was sitting on a wooden bench throwing bread for ducks swimming on the pond at the far side of the park. It was a spot I often escaped to during my lunch hour. It was quiet and secluded amongst the trees, providing me with a safe haven from the noise and bustle of humanity.

I knew the bench was empty apart from me. I did not invite companions into my still place. Suddenly I became aware I was no longer alone. This should have been startling but was not. It was more a sensation of hearing familiar footsteps, or recognising the shape of someone as they walk through a crowd towards you. He was with me.

"Sophie."

I looked at him, smiled in greeting, but wondered how he knew my name. His answering smile was fleeting but warm and sincere. His eyes were clear, all seeing.

"A calm place, this; a good place to come and be still."

"I come here looking for feathers for my collection." I told him, thinking I needed to explain my presence in such an isolated place. "I see others bringing bread - so today, so did I."

He turned, regarding the pond, the ducks busily quarrelling amongst themselves. "Do the offerings please them, do you think? You bring the bread and gift it. What else do you bring?"

I did not think before responding. "It was strange. I thought bringing bread would be a benefit to them, but all I saw was greed and squabbling, until everything was gone and they could return to their own foraging.

"I bring only who and what I am - a presence in the quiet, an observer. I take more than I give."

He nodded as if content with my reply. "Yet, you are here. You are as much a part of here as anything else."

I smiled, "That is very true. I come to disconnect from elsewhere and connect to here, to listen, to watch, to notice - so much to notice; to think - perhaps too much."

"Connecting and disconnecting - such modern conceits. Tell me... look..." he pointed to a duck executing a splashing descent from the sky onto the pond. "Where has he come from?"

"Another stretch of water, probably."

"When did he disconnect from there? When did he connect to here?"

"It is all part of his path," I realised. "Just a flow of now and who we are."

"Yes. Really, there is no there, no here." He turned towards me. "Sophie, give me your hand."

I offered him my right hand. He placed his palm underneath it, open, supporting it. I scanned his face, suddenly aware of a group of men and women dressed in similar clothes to his, standing around us. Not crowding us in any way, but present. I knew they were there, watching, but all my awareness was centred on my hand in his.

"I and my companions are on a path - a journey .We hope to discover - to find -- minds/spirits/souls - and having found them, to guide. My name is Malachi."

"Are you of the light?"

He nodded.

"Do you care for me?"

"I take your care upon myself. I will guide wherever you care to follow."

My heart began to thump, "Do you love me?"

"With perfect love," was his reply. "Do you trust me?"

I felt my heightened breathing slow to normal again. "Yes," I smiled.

"Then, little princess, let me be both messenger and guide."

"Let it be so."

"So shall it be. Take this," he opened his free hand flat revealing a dagger. It appeared very old - shaped from obsidian - the edges ground to a clean, black, glassy blade. I touched the hilt with my left hand fingers, knowing if I touched the blade, I should cut myself.

"What should I do with it?"

"Take some strands of my hair. Cut them at the scalp."

My right hand curled around the dagger hilt. Moving to his side, I searched for the hair strands as he inclined his head to assist me. His hair was longer than I remembered in my dream; it reached past his shoulders, tied back with a dark leather thong. I cut six strands of brown hair as gently as I could, holding them across my left palm.

He took the strands from me, braiding them rapidly into a fine cord, which he then fastened about my wrist, the knot merging perfectly with the braid.

"Now I am bound to you," he said. "Wherever you may be, I will find you. Keep the blade with you. Should you wish to be released, cut the cord. Should you find the way too hard, cut the cord."

My body creased with pain at the thought of losing him again. "No!"

His face broke into a soft smile as he took hold of my right hand once more, "It may be a hard path we will journey together."

I slipped the dagger into my coat pocket. "You have bound yourself to me."

"Yes."

"Is there nothing you wish from me?"

He nodded, "In time, but I would not ask you to give before you know what will be asked. In time..."

"The others," I wondered aloud, "do they stand witness or will they go to seek their own partners?"

"They witness for now - to see to whom I have been called, as I will witness for them when their time comes. At times on our journey, we may travel with them."

He lifted my hand, turning it palm upwards towards his mouth. After scanning my face, he kissed the palm softly, almost reverently. "You are loved and cherished," he said, his hands closing over mine.

My heart was so full I could not speak, a soft smile tugging at my mouth as I watched him and felt him touch me. A million questions unasked, now unneeded, I looked into eyes that held answers to unspoken questions -- eyes which promised care, promised love and promised trust.

It was hard to leave him and return to the busy world, but I took with me his bracelet. It was so finely woven; it could hardly be seen in normal light. At night, when I took my ease before sleeping, I could feel its presence with me- a circle around my wrist, an acknowledgement of our bonding.

Several months passed. We met on other occasions, talking of different things. I had so many questions.

I asked him about the golden disk, bound and focused, with the pulsing blood spot he placed inside me in the dream.

"What does it mean?"

"It is a gift for you," he replied. "It is not to be carried in the hand, nor worn like a jewel. It receives and holds the pangs you feel, it absorbs the fearfulness and heartache. The gold is pure; it will not stain or tarnish.

"When you feel disturbed, hold it in your mind's eye and send it all inside, inside the gold and I will discharge it." He leaned forward, touching my solar plexus with his finger. He knew the disc lay underneath where he placed it. "I will take it on myself to be expelled later. Although the disc absorbs, it does not consume. Later, you will learn to allow such discomfort to pass through you without harm, as I do."

I fell silent for many long moments, contemplating the wonder of his gift to me.

At last I asked him about the pulsing spot upon the disc. I could almost feel the sensation inside me.

His eyes bored through me as he answered. "You know what it is, as you know all things, understand all things. I am here merely to guide your memories, to uncover your deepest understanding."

I nodded, but I could not say the words. I knew it was a blood spot -- something to do with life and fertility.

"The pulsing stands for blood, for the blood of birthing, blood of moontime. When you stop seeing blood, the bloodspot will disappear and the golden disc will be whole once more. It will be time then to learn its other properties and bring forth its wisdom.

"It is my promise to you." Once more he lifted my hand, palm upwards to his lips and kissed it. "Whatever happens, I will return."

Much time has passed. Malachi's voice is silent. Seasons come and go, bringing their own challenges. When I remember, I bring the disc to mind, placing my distress within its shining sphere, waiting for Malachi to effect its discharge. My moontime fades and soon the gold will be unblemished. I do not know if he will return to guide me further or, having completed his task of opening me to new possibilities, he will send another.

The bracelet is still around my wrist. I feel its silken whisper against my skin as I write. The dagger lies hidden in a secret place for I have no wish to sever our connection. I wait, patiently, until the dawning of another dream.