Children of the Luminous Light (1)

   
   "Children of the Luminous Light (1)"
   
   Ann paged through her distracted memory, though happy to know that the serpent's head was forecast to be crushed by a virgin's foot an approximate 5,000 years ago, and Ann was a 24 year-old virgin herself.  Her pseudo-friends kept telling her:  "But you are incarnate."
   Ann never let go, knowing the Litany of the Blessed Virgin, remembering:  "Mirror of justice, Virgin most merciful, Virgin most powerful, Lover of chastity, Lover of poverty, and so on."
   Her friends all laughed and snorted at her with angry puffs of hostility, not able to make the gorgeous, young girl fall into the dark pit.  Ann was content with low-rent, a grocery market job, smiling at the customers, and walks in the park with her sisterly dog, Frances.
   She had spent much time with her Grandfather during her adolescence before he passed, him always telling her:  "You will find many people who speak with forked tongues, and you may too at times, but shake it off, remembering your family is truly those who do the will of God."
   She missed Grandpa; plus, missed her sister lost unto corporate greed, believing in vanity of spirit, hubris hungry, and grabbing every dollar that floated her way, but Ann prayed for the light to enter her sister, to see the beauty of chatty chipmunks and eagles soaring with praise for something Divine.
   Her and Frances were walking sweetly in the park, telepathically telling each other:  "No problem mate."  She never could get enough of other cultures, knowing God forged it all, and while most fall, she was a loyal dog, not merely trying, but truly fighting the good fight, though a nasty stumble here and there, as the forces of darkness are upon the risk takers for true love.
   Would she ever meet her knight in shining armor she sometimes wondered, and would she know if he was truly nice or not?  Test every spirit.  But more than that.  And homeward, to her modest dwellings, burning candles, and not resisting evil, but letting it grasp her luminous light, morphing it stupefied, or sending it away with contemplation of making a possible change.  It didn't matter.  All is in God's Hands, and yes--it has been written in stone, mostly.