Faith’s Lesson

Faith followed the stranger. As the wind grew in strength and darker clouds rolled in, the man picked up his pace decidedly; he had almost reached the white picket fence that framed a nearby yard when the skies opened and the first heavy drops made their decent towards the earth below. Faith followed still. In an obvious attempt to evade his pursuer, the man broke into a half run trot. He looked back intermittently as splashes of rain fell across the cove. Faith thought that the stranger must have blessed the heavens for choosing this day, this hour, to deliver this aqueous bounty and to impede her desired confrontation with him.

"Wait,” Faith called out to the evasive figure, “wait, I wish to talk with you!” Her words were lost entirely in the wind.

For a moment, the man disappeared behind a clump of wildly swaying bushes and he appeared again in the breaks and crags between the brambles as he hurried out of view. Faith could almost discern that the man was breathing heavily from his hasty journey across the cove as she caught sporadic and irregular glimpses of him through the breaches in the vegetation. For an instant, she thought that she would catch him as the covehead bent sharply along the winding path. The sense of utter powerlessness that suddenly overwhelmed her took her by complete surprise as a torrent of rain presently assaulted her little piece of earth. It was relentless, inescapable, as unyielding as the tide. The tide was predictable; a continuous ebbing and flowing in a comforting daily presence. But, this storm - it was distracting; it was bothersome; it resounded against her nerves, she did not expect it and she could not halt it. It foiled her action, completely disregarding her plans, her hopes, and her inner need for explanation. It came regardless; finally giving in to her defeat, Faith lost sight entirely of the stranger and her drenched body slid down the trunk of a nearby tree onto the rain-soaked sod. She sat dejected at her loss, still without information - in a sodden heap.

Faith sat stunned in the breach. Her disappointment was palpable. As she began to collect the market items fallen from her bundle, she looked about her. Suddenly, Faith realized that she had traveled quite a distance from the covehead and the area was largely unfamiliar to her. She gazed about attempting to gather her disoriented senses in the relentless downpour. Overcome with the torrents of pelting water, Faith walked unsteadily toward a light flickering through the sheets of rain. “That way must lead back to the main road,” she thought. “I shall keep to it and connect with the covehead once more,” she deduced. The light wavered and momentarily disappeared, appearing again seeming alternately close and then farther into the distance; an optical illusion brought about by rents in the unremitting precipitation. Faith slogged toward it. “It is just a little farther,” she encouraged herself as she stumbled along the soggy soil. Faith had lost sight entirely of anything remotely familiar and a conspicuous sense of dread began to gestate within her breast.

Just then, a twig snapped to her right, and her nerves jumped. She turned to see a tall dark shape emerge from behind a clump of thick brush; a man. He moved toward her swiftly. Every instinct within Faith’s mind screamed, “Run!” but, surprise made her hesitate. Within a few seconds she knew that she had made a terrible mistake. It took only those very seconds for the man to have a hold on her. With no warning the filthily clothed assailant pushed Faith squarely to the ground.

What happened next was like a nightmare to Faith; and it happened swiftly. Faith reached for a fallen branch that lay near to her in the soft soil; she brought it up swiftly in an attempt to protect herself. Some instinct told her not to scream. As the man’s face twisted into a leering grin; Faith swung at him with the crooked stick. Whether or not she hit him, she never knew, but the next minute the branch was wrenched from her hand by a grasp that almost broke her wrist. The rank man was beside her, so close that she could smell the wretched odor of him as he tried to drag her through the brambles. With her one free hand she fought madly, clawing at his face and suddenly feeling a massive hand about her throat. With a ripping noise, her basque was torn open from neck to waist. The man’s giant hand fumbled between her breasts, and terror and revulsion such as Faith had never known came over her and she screamed in spite of herself. “Shut up! Shut up!” cried the man as his ruddy palm fumbled across Faith’s face to her mouth. She bit him as savagely as she could and then she screamed again. Through her screaming she heard the man swear, and in the chaos, she thought that she spied another man running toward them in the breach.