Losing Mary

Prologue

The night air was hot and muggy. Haze hung in the air like a suffocating cloud. The small town in northern Ireland was small, and cozy, with a population of no more than 900.

The full moon lit up most of the town square. There was no one to witness a figure sweep passed the fountain. No one to hear the muffled sounds of a baby crying.

The baby in the arms of the figure in black began to cry again. Louder this time. "Hush child. There is no reason to cry." The distraught women whispered, on the verge of tears. She stopped, and sat down by the fountain, trying to calm the baby.

The child stopped crying, and looked up at the women with big, golden colored eyes. A smile spread across her face, and the woman smiled back. She rocked the baby in her arms, humming a lullaby from her native planet.

Soon, the child was fast asleep. The woman stood back up, and continued on her journey. She took a left at an alley and stopped in front of a set of heavy wooden doors. The town church.

She looked around to make sure no one would see her enter, then opened the mahogany doors.

The chapel was musty, and full of wooden pews. Pale light streamed through the stain glass windows, making the alter look as though it was glowing.

The woman sat down on the pew closest to the front, and looked at the sleeping child in her arms, and began to silently sob.

The child began to stir in her arms, and the woman tried to calm her breathing. This was it. She couldn't take care of the child. No matter how much she wanted to, it was too much of a risk.

She stood up, and placed the small bundle in a basket that was full of dryed out flowers, then she moved the basket to the middle of the alter steps.

The baby began to cry, and the woman crouched down, attempting to silence the cries that tugged at her heart strings.

She took the child's hand, and rubbed the mark around her wrist. The mark that made her stand out. The mark that proved she wasn't human.

She leaned into the basket, and kissed the baby's forehead. "Goodbye, my Asonia." She whispered, and walked away.

Away from the basket. Away from the church. Away from the town. Away from her only child.

~~~^~~~^~~~^~~~^~~~^~~~^~~~^~~~

The next morning, the pastor of the church walked inside the chapel, to find that someone had moved the basket of dried flowers. Darn kids. He thought, and moved to pick it up, when a movement made him stop.

He looked inside to find a small infant, with with big, golden eyes staring right back at him. The baby looked at him, then slowly began to wail, her little face growing red.

"Oh, poor thing. Come here." He whispered, and took the baby out of the basket. He cradled her in his arms as he went into his office, and called his brother at the police station. "I think I'll call you Mary." He said, after he had hung up the phone. The baby smiled at that.

Soon the whole town was talking. It wasn't everyday a child was left in the church. Someone needed to take of her, and quite a few volunteered. But within a week, it was obvious the pastor was the only one she wanted.

Little did anyone in that small town know, that the child wasn't like anything the world had ever seen. And that finding her in the church, was just the beginning.