MARTIN'S ABSOLUTION

At first it was amusing. Gwen led us in counting the time gap between the violent jagged lines of vertical lightning and the clap of thunder following it. She played with Molly’s fingers, using them to count. It was all fun. Nine fingers became six, six fingers became three, and we hoped God was with us. Gwen was on her knees in prayer. I was trying to think of something more demanding of help, more expressive of my fear than simple repetitive mouthing of Hail Marys. My silent thoughts had not got beyond the first two when with a noise like the world had come to an end, with sheets of fire and tongues of flame, the earth swallowed me up. I was thrown violently down, striking my head, leaving me nearly senseless and without power to move as much as my eyelids. I dared not open them for fear of what I might see. Would it be the devil himself? Was he too important to greet me in person? Perhaps one or two of his attendants, pitchforks and all? By the time I’d begun to turn this over in my young mind I was picturing the fires of hell. Already I was feeling the heat of hell and hearing the crackling of the flames that’d consume me. Whether I thought I could or would fight the devil, and why not? I cannot say. It was difficult to open my eyes. Painful to move my stiffened limbs. My head and spine hurt like never before. Hell was revealed. Or at least, my personal hell. A blackened oak tree, split down the middle, smouldering just above my head which lay jammed in the cleft. A heavy weight bore down on me, preventing me from sitting up and escaping. Perhaps I was not going to burn in hell, not yet, but certainly if I didn’t move soon I was going to suffer a preliminary roasting in an oak tree, only to be completed later at the devil’s convenience. Slowly and painfully I got my arms flexing at the elbows and my fingers straightening from the claws they’d become. All sensation of touch had gone. I couldn’t tell what lay on top of me. My hands could feel an object was there but couldn’t tell me what it was. My body knew it was heavy but couldn’t define its nature. Wriggling my body did not liberate me. The smouldering flame crept down the tree towards me. Hot ash fell on my face. If I didn’t get out of there soon, I wasn’t going to get out of there at all. And the devil when he received me would be grateful for having part of his job already done. As my limbs began to come to themselves, movement became less stiff and less painful to the muscles. Then slowly some sense of feeling returned to my limbs, first the hands, then my feet, then followed waves of intense burning pain creeping from hands to heart and feet to belly. If the devil’s work was to be like this, I wished I’d spent more time on my prayers. I wished I’d paid more attention to Geoffrey’s earnest entreaties to come closer to God. But I hadn’t. And now I was on my own. My limbs on fire. No longer with Geoffrey to help me. Surely not very close to God and lying under a heavy weight, secure in the arms, not of God, but of a flaming oak.