The Dedication

As the train drew near the station I gathered up my few belongings and stepped into the aisle with the other disembarking passengers. I had no luggage, only my bulky purse, my sweater, and a paperback copy of "The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy". The instructions had said to leave all personal belongings behind. Anxiously I fingered the corner of the placard tucked into the side pouch of my purse, and silently prayed that I would not have to wait there long for my ride to locate me.

As I stepped down onto the platform my heart began to race and I paused for a moment, passengers streaming past me toward the terminal.

"Have a safe trip," said a grandmotherly agent with a smile as she caught my eye.

"Thank you ma'am," I replied. My legs were trembling as I continued toward the terminal. I pushed open the door, holding it for the man behind me with his luggage on wheels.

The sign was a long strip of letters that hung across the ceiling, in the center of the spacious room. "P A D U C A H", it said with arrows designating "all points north and west," to the left and "all points south and east," to the right. I felt invisible as I approached that area, where I had been told to wait. Briefly considering a bathroom detour, I took out my placard and stood directly beneath the letter U. There were passengers reclining in rows of chairs facing me disinterestedly. An elderly man glanced curiously at my placard and then went back to his newspaper. Three children stared at me solemnly while their mother comforted a crying infant. My heart continued to race, and my hands were sweating as I held the sign before me.

I caught a whiff of broasted chicken from the cafeteria and my belly rumbled. The instructions had said not to eat any thing once I got on the train. Which is why I had been drinking so much liquid, and now needed to pee. I shifted my weight and glanced around for the restroom. A ticket agent caught my eye with a smirk and then quickly looked away. I blushed with the embarrassment that the placard I held read "Mistress White Thorn" in bold black block letters. I fixed my gaze on the floor and tried to slow my anxious breath.

All at once I felt a shiver down the back of my spine, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and my stomach lurched violently downward. My head swung to the right and I saw them. Shock numbed my body and I froze as reality shifted and expanded in my head. I knew they saw me.

Their procession was entirely incongruous in this setting. Six men dressed in matching black pants and tshirts moved in unison, the chorus of their shiny black shoes tapping a staccato rhythm as they advanced toward me. All of them had the same short dark hair, and wore thick black leather collars with one heavy metal ring at each throat. I barely noticed them.

Leading the procession was absolutely the most remarkable woman I had ever seen. She stood perfectly erect and seemed to glide toward me, oblivious of all else, eyes boring into mine. Those eyes, so sharp and deep, held an unnerving intensity of purpose. She wore a flowing black robe and cloak. The only visible part of the floating black figure was her face, framed by a deep black hood. It was an achingly beautiful, impossibly pale, ageless face. The eyes held centuries of wisdom, and yet she could have been a young girl.

I had not blinked and now she stood before me.

I would not have needed the final admonishment in my instructions- that I was not to speak. My tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth and my throat was constricted with sudden apprehension. I could not have spoken.

For a long time none of us moved. I stood eye to eye with this amazing woman. The six men maintained formation, standing two by two in a line behind her, eyes glazed, looking straight ahead. Her eyes blazed a challenge and my eyes dropped. In my peripheral vision I saw the stir that this arrival had caused. The mother was urging her children away to some seats across the room, glancing back at me suspiciously. Her baby was silent. The man with the newspaper stared blatantly. The ticket agent and two more employees stood together watching with amused curiosity. I felt like all the eyes in the room were on me.

I blinked, I exhaled, and I glanced back up at the powerful young woman who stood imposingly before me. She held her head, neck stretched impossibly high, and lifted her tiny pointy nose to gaze down past her chin at me haughtily.

One of the men stepped forward and fell to one knee beside her, head bowed. After a pause her cloak shifted and a hand darted out to tap the center of his scalp with one long black lacquered nail.

"Mistress White Thorn," he intoned simply, in a deep full baritone announcement. Instantly all six of the men fell to their knees and bent forward at the waist to press their faces against the floor, hands stretched out before them. My eyes darted around the room with panic at 15 or 20 observers. The guys at the ticket counter were now laughing openly. One of the children across the room was pointing at us, mouth agape.

Suddenly I realized that my mouth, too, was hanging open in a big round O, and I closed it with a start.

"Kneel!" the Mistress ordered me with a touch of incredulity in her voice. I instantly obeyed, dropping my purse, sweater, and placard thoughtlessly. As my face drew near the floor in an awkward parody of the six men, I hesitated.

Then Mistress White Thorn moved to swiftly place the toe of one boot on the back of my skull and forcibly drive my forehead to the floor. I fell off balance, my right arm bent beneath my chest and only my left hand reaching out toward her in supplication. As she stepped back, her heel came down on my fingers and I flinched. Biting my lip hard to keep from crying out I allowed the tingles of pain to wash through my body in jerky waves, willing my muscles to relax and accept this.

I waited. I could still hear the ticket agents' laughter, coming from some distant place where a cold lifeless voice droned endlessly of arrivals and departures. My mind was numb and void of thought. My heart was set with finality. My stomach rumbled once again. I dared not move.

The contract had already been signed. The arrangements had been set for weeks. My agreement and consent had been assured. I had arrived. It was too late to change my mind, and yet my instincts urged me to flee. If I were not frozen in terror I would have run away.

A hand gently moved my hair aside. Another hand fastened a heavy wide metal band around my neck with a click. My bladder let go, and the crotch of my jeans spread warmth. I tried to concentrate on my breathing. It seemed as if the train station had become utterly silent. I could hear the blood rushing against my ear drums. A tug on the collar urged me to rise, and I opened my eyes as I stood.

Almost instantly I felt a quick tug downward and one of the men said, "Eyes down for Miss."

I never looked into those eyes again.