Author Topic: Putting The Flesh To Death (Read 302 times)
sharrahenley
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Putting The Flesh To Death
« Nov 20, 2009 17:51:50 GMT -6 » 		Quote
((ooc - this takes place after the assembly and I can only assume faculty are required to stay there, with no exceptions? Lol - anyways this does have to do with religion, so please if you are offended by the topic in any way, I suggest you not read. I won't claim to be an expert in religion and if you find any mistakes please PM and I will be more then willing to change it or discuss it. :3))


The darkly stained wood floors and walls washed the room in shadowy ambiance the only light provided coming from a side table lamb, that cut the dim shadows in half softly by the low watt bulb. In the small space, silence suffocated everything, soaking it heavily – not even the air stirring in the confines of the temporary room provided in the Chula Vista Collective. Nothing was out of place; the sheets and blanket smoothed neatly on the twin-sized bed lined against one wall, without a single wrinkle, no personal nick-knacks cluttering the dresser or vanity on the other. In the closed closet one would find neatly prearranged outfits waiting, hanging on hangers and shoes lined orderly along the back baseboard.

The light scent of lilies hung in the air, nothing that would overcome the senses but ghost in wispy remembrance of something familiar.

The only thing that could be seen as out of the ordinary, something that most people would probably take a look at not once or twice, but rather want to take a good hard look at, was the woman standing, in front of the foot of her bed – with only a robe. That in its self probably wouldn’t be so out of place, but what was, was the fact of what laid untouched, for now, in front of her – a flexible black braided leather couldn’t be mistake as anything else other then a whip.

Slowly Cassandra kneeled down, for once her blond hair hanging loosely around her shoulders in a thick curtain, framing her round pale face. The bare hard wood floor was a shock to her skin as her unprotected knees made contact and her hands automatically folded in front of her. The only other thing on her at the moment the small gold cross that hung around her neck on the delicate chain.

“ ‘Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God,’” Her words, though said aloud here soft and low, barely above a whisper but clear, before continuing on with her prayer. “Lord, I believe, I wish to believe in thee. Lord, let my faith be full and unreserved, and let it penetrate my thought, my way of judging divine things and human things. Lord, let my faith be joyful and give peace and gladness to my spirit, and dispose it for prayer with God and conversation with men, so that the inner bliss of its fortunate possession may shine forth in sacred and secular conversation. Lord, let my faith be humble and no presume to be based on the experience of my thought and of my feeling; but let it surrender to the testimony of the Holy Spirit, and not have any better guarantee that in docility to tradition and to the authority of the magisterium of the holy church….”

Dropping her hands in the same slow, almost calculated movements, in practiced well known movements, Cassandra stood, unknotting the sash from around her waist and letting the soft material slip from her shoulders to the floor to pool around her feet. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself, let the words she had spoken in prayer to God settle her unease – as it was like this every time. Her life, her purpose was to serve the lord, to be the work of God, with no mind of temptation or wavering. Her body was his and to be closer to him she would feel his pain, what he suffered for all men; her solitary conviction of faith showing to no one but God, her closeness and what she would willing sacrifice.

Bending over slightly Cassandra picked up the leather whip, the cat of nine tails, it was called really and held it loosely in her hand, looking at the dull surface and the split ends from countless uses. On her back, the delicate skin was littered with thin white scars, criss crossing along the width and length from the years she had dedicated to this religion, and spent on her faith. No matter how many times she had been ostracized for it, never for a moment, had she felt unfulfilled or left unsure.

Letting the crop hang at her side now, her grip tightened around the handle so she wouldn’t drop it during those first few snaps that would surely break and redden her skin. The pain that was about to break over her was old, but new – no matter how many times it was done. Cassandra would endure and reveal in it as it brought her closer to true revelation. Her arm tensed, and she abruptly, swiftly brought it up, angled over her opposite shoulders so the long tendrils of leather licked at her skin harshly.

Before she would allow herself to become choked up by the pain, before her knees buckled underneath her she spoke, “I chastise my flesh as a penance to god, to feel the pain of Christ and to humble myself before God’s holy light, and to help me walk at his holy sons, Jesus Christ’s side for eternity.”

Cassandra rasped out those end words, her arm falling back to her side, and her grip no less loose. The stinging that trekked down her spin, stabbed at her lower stomach and crimped her muscles in protest, made her teeth grit, but she continued – only speaking the words once as she carried on to whip herself. Each lash was like a fiery wave until there was no longer distinguishing between each individual strand and her whole back was engulfed to the point of numbing but no longer being bearable…not counting how many times she hit herself, she shifted the tool in her hand and continued.

…She was to the point of trembling, sweat had formed a fine layer over her skin making it glow in the under cast of the shaded lamp. Her breath had shortened against the pain that had settled in deeper then her broken skin, in her bones…and finally causing the sharp thwacks to fall silent as the whip likewise fell from her fingers. It was at that point that she couldn’t stay upright and this time when she lowered herself to her knees it was hard, earning a dull thud. With her arms bent on the bed in front of her and her cheek pressed against the cool coverlet, Cassandra’s eyes fell shut. Now at the end of her day she had repented for her sins, and had taken one more step to do God’s will…to be closer to him.

“Amen…”

« Last Edit: Nov 20, 2009 23:47:12 GMT -6 by sharrahenley » Back to Top