Birgitta the Nun

Part 63 - The Delivery

All alone in the woods, Charlie didn't suspect a thing. She was a solitary creature now, rid of all neighbors, friends and relations. Set in her neat nest in the deep woods, there was nothing, or no one, to bother her anymore.

She was just about to eat some cold leftovers, when a reflection hit her eye. The last rays of the evening sun bounced off something sharp, leaving a small flash between the leaves. An edge of metal protruded, gleaming like the vicious scythe of the soul-reaper.

"Who goes there?", she shielded her eyes with her hand and continued her meal.

"It is I," a small voice replied. A body followed the voice and the intruder stepped out of the shadows.

The wizard saw a tiny figure reveal herself among the trees. It appeared to be anything but the soul-reaper. She had a crumpled package under her arm, and an all too big axe in her small hand. The face was familiar. Charlie choked on her leftovers. The picture was comical indeed, and she pushed her meal away with distaste. Any old neighbor was scarier than Death itself.

"Oh, it is you? How odd—" the wizard hesitated. "You don't live here, do you?"

"No, Madame," the student replied. "I've come to return your axe. Also, to deliver a package." With both hands she held out the objects in front of her, demonstrating the trueness of her words.

"So—you're a delivery-girl now, eh? Things didn't work out too well with your farm, or whatever it was you were doing back there?" Charlie looked down at her abandoned meal and decided she'd had enough. Mortal guests really had a thing for ruining her appetite. She pushed her plate of cold food in front of the dozing owl. The bird ignored it.

"My farm is doing excellently, thank you," the student - who actually wasn't a student at all - replied. "But I happened to have an object not belonging to me." She again demonstrated the axe.

"Oh—the axe, right," the wizard received the sharp object. "I'm not sure I need it anymore—though I live among the woods, I'm not planning on chopping anything down. But sure, thank you. Someday I might run out of debris to put in my campfire."

"And the package, Madame," the young guest said and held out the delivery.

"And my mail?" the wizard offered. "Did you also happen to pick up my mail? Any bills perhaps?"

"Oh—" the student faltered. She scratched her arm, distracted. "No—I'm sorry. I actually didn't think of that. That's strange—" she paused to think. "I should have thought of that. It seems so obvious now that you mention it—"

"Never mind," Charlie waved her hand in front of her face. "Well, you might as well sit down and have a cup of coffee. I reckon you're none too eager to get back out there tonight, into the approaching darkness?"

The student didn't answer but made herself comfortable next to Charlie. Together they set the campfire going and a warm cup of coffee was produced for the newcomer. Charlie turned the package over, then ripped it apart: the weather-bitten carton didn't offer much resistance as she grabbed it with both hands and tore it in two. Its content fell into her lap with a heavy thud. She ignored the pain and set to work, her curious fingers running over hard edges. Something beautiful—a machine. Her eyes gleamed. It was a microwave.

A smudged card lay on top of the gift, offering the text: "Dear Charlie, thank you for your efforts and your curiousness. Holy regards, The Monastery."

"Hah," Charlie grunted. "The cat must have come back."

"What cat?" the student asked as she sipped her coffee.

"Just a cat I rescued—for some poor nuns."

"Oh—that's nice," the student smiled.

"Well now—with this competent item my nest and my home is complete. I thank you, dear student, for bringing me this gift." Charlie studied the microwave with increasing pleasure, opened its door, then slammed it shut with a surprised grin. "You could be Santa Claus for all I know. You're only missing the red trousers. Actually, it doesn't suit a corpulent authority to wear red trousers—but damn it, if you bring gifts you can wear whatever you like." She placed her microwave on top of a soft mass of moss, and declared, "Now—let's burn that house down! No house, no neighbors," she raised her fist in a victorious manner and turned to her guest.

The command fell flat. The student stiffened in her place and, avoiding her gaze, didn't offer the war-like cry Charlie had expected.

"You don't think I'm serious? Well I am—most serious indeed. What's the matter? You think I'm pulling your leg?" The wizard got up and went to collect a torch from the campfire, just to demonstrate how serious she was. She stopped in front of the crouching student, "We'll set off tonight."

The young guest remained seated. She picked at her cup of coffee and, after some hesitation, said, "You see—I am always credulous. I always just assume that people are telling me the truth. I won't suspect a thing until you write on my nose that you are pulling a stunt. Then - and only then - will I turn suspicious. So please, don't make any jokes—they are wasted on me."

"Ah—I see," the wizard said, "you're a kind one. You're even too kind—though one can't be too kind—" She paused to scratch her head, then, "But especially because of that—you're not gullible are you?"

"Why not sell the house?" the student offered. "Or even give it away?"

"Wha-at?" the wizard swung the torch, almost setting fire to her hat. "No. That's no story of a wizard—I want fire."

"Or drama?"

"NO. Oh-no—I'm not the drama queen you might take me for. I just want to be in charge of my own fate for once. It's my building, is it not?"

"Have you got an insurance?"

"Yes. Yes, I do. In fact—" Charlie hesitated, "Wait a minute—I know what you're thinking. And no—I'm not going to make use of it. I'm no fraud. This fire will be on me."

"That's very generous of you."

"You don't believe me? Look, you can come with me, and be my witness. No accident caused this fire - pure stupidity and sheer stubbornness are to blame."

And indeed, they did return to Charlie's old house that same night. At first, Charlie shrank away. Memories recurred and all she wanted was to flee the horrible place. But soon she regained her sense of purpose, and happily poured some gasoline over the old building.

The student remained quiet, keeping her distance. Charlie threw her torch in the middle of the porch and stepped back in expectation. She put her arm around the student's shoulders and together they watched the flames multiply.

The combustion was spectacular and the heat fantastic. Flames swallowed the porch immediately and crept up the walls. The roof caught fire with a 'puff' and lit up like an umbrella of flames. Soon, planks and debris fell under the heavy fever. The building could take it no more, but started to crumble.

Charlie and the student didn't watch the end of it. They returned to the road and, as the flames heated their backs, walked away.

"So—how will you use your microwave?" the student said. "Do you have a generator or the like, back in the woods?"

"Huh?" the wizard frowned.

"You know—electricity?"

"Oh. I haven't thought about it much—but, of course, it seems so obvious now that you mention it—" The Wizard halted and turned to take a last look at her blazing house. She shook her head, "No—it's not worth it. I guess I'll be using the machine as a cupboard, or a trophy. Cold meals aren't that bad anyway."

"No, I guess they're not. Well, good bye. And good luck."

"The very words."

The student continued on the road as Charlie turned right and entered the woods. And so they went separate ways. There was no way to tell for sure who was the most relieved by the separation.

THE END