The Crucifix.The Crucifix. When she gazed upon the unclothed flesh of her Savior, she saw more than polished wood and paint. She could feel the heat of His body, smelled the musky sweat as He writhed in blessed agony. The taste of His blood, the coppery sweetness as it poured from the wound at His side, where the cold metal of a centurion's lance had pierced the Holy flesh, sending waves of pain through His brutally beaten body. The crown of thorns, sitting upon matted hair, placed there by rough hands which had stripped Him of His simple robes, and had beaten Him with the flats of swords. The pain of the nails being driven through His palms seemed real to her, shattering barriers of rational thought, blinding her senses. A real pain in her hand forced her back to earth. A hasty look at her hand told her that she had been squeezing the crucifix at the end of the rosary so hard that the sharp metal corners had broken the skin. It wasn't bleeding much, but it hurt more than it should have. What she felt next scared her more than anything had before. At first she thought that the wetness between her legs was her curse coming early. She dismissed this thought quickly, since it wasn't accompanied by the usual cramps. Realizing what had happened, she quickly rose, almost forgetting to cross herself, while fighting back tears of shame. She wasn't able to face her Lord's image as she quickly fled from the building, after almost falling when she genuflected to the Host, averting her tear filled eyes from the statue on the wall. Laura stumbled out into the fading daylight, sure that the old woman sitting in the back of the church could smell her wickedness. |