Another slow spring afternoon crawls by while father Jonah busy offering his prayer for the lost souls due to the recent strange disease. Three strapping young lads stricken in bed just to pass away in matter of days. Late commotions happen solely due to the disease strikes, first the village council ransacked every nook and cranny for the cause until hope went down like summer sunset and then the while villagers in desperation pleading for interventions from the gods. Father Jonah lets out a sigh as scenes pass his mind vividly as if things has only begun. Suddenly loud and rapid banging on the door can be heard-
“Father, father, please open the door!” - Father Jonah recognizes the voice instantly, he rushes to the door and creakily it opens, beneath the doorway stands the village messenger still gasping for breath.
“Has something gone awry my child? Can it be....?”
“No, father. Just come with me to the square!” Interrupted the young lad.
The two hastily leave the church for the village square, brightly it lits with torches and dancing shadows and bustling with slurred voices abound just like a seasonal gathering every harvest. Upon arrival, sight of a fair damsel bound in ropes seizes immediate attention of Jonah. He turns to the errand boy and bursts in between his breath
“Is Rosale...responsible for...everything that...has come?”
“Yes, father. Sister Rosa...” is all that Jonah can hear before an angry woman rises her voice out of the crowd
“This wench here, my father, with all the deeds she done, has incurred great wrath of the God for she brings upon us dire misfortune. Repent she must for all which came!”
“But what exactly has I done?” - asks Rosale, whose voice managed to borrow the lapse of the moment.
“How dare you...” - the woman turns toward Rosale, heightens her voice.
“Silence!” - Martin, the village elder steps forward out of the crowd.
“I know how you feel but the time is not now.” And as he stops in front of father Jonah.
“Jonah, I fear that is the truth for she is responsible for our recent misfortunes.”
Father Jonah, whose silent hangs like a noose awaits the judgement.
“All three lads came knocking her door, passing delight for a night worth then left at sunrise with a sickle underneath.”
Murmur slithers throughout the crowd, melts with sighs of disbelief into one.
“So what is your decision, Martin?”
“The decision will be yours to make. We fear that the gods have sent down retributions for what Rosale have done thus it is your responsibilities to calm the storm.”
“Please grant me three days time, the first dawn thereafter will be my answer.” Without hesitation speaks Jonah as he turns facing everyone.
“Fair choice you made, no matter what your decision, we will accept without question. For the time being, this woman will be held in the blue cellar. None but Jonah can come. Now return home everyone. Tomorrow dawn starts anew.” - The elder has made up his mind, now is time for action. The villagers break into cluster each heads off different directions trailing off fading shadows and lingering chatter.
“This key is yours. I await your news.”
Abrupt it came, abrupt it passes, Father Jonah is left alone by the town square in companionship of Rosale. He unties her ropes and helps her getting up.
“Father, I...” - Something in his eyes make Rosale changes her mind. He slowly takes her by the hand then off they go to blue cellar, an abandoned house by the middle of the forest. Where abundant high trees turn day into night all the while spring flowers blooming in freedom neath the window seem to taunt the woman lived there even long after her death. Father Jonah, still with his numb face and silent pacing in the darkness out of the forest returning home. Tomorrow dawn starts anew.
To be cont... (maybe, if there's interest)