Mary Christof, Queen of Hearts

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One By One As Ordered/Hail Mary's Cat

“It’s only for the best,’ll see. I’m sorry, kitty...I can’t be in heaven with you or my boyfriend.”

It was a gruesome, ugly death. Frozen ice packs, stapled onto the cat’s paws so that only its stumpy legs could be seen. A hacksaw and a blindfold, my eyes filled with tears.

“It’s hard, isn’t it? I feel bad, really. If I was...well, honestly born like this--my purpose was to get mixed up and confused about what my purpose was, stab you like a reverse, misanthropic Job, and then wander around in hell for all eternity because I was stupid enough to believe that someone wouldn’t manipulate my love for Her Grace and use it for their own selfish ends by isolating me from my friends and family?--they did a mighty fine job of it, you know. Had me fooled from day one...but I still believe that’s not the real Mary. The real one loves every creature with all her heart...still has hope for those who did wrong, so long as they repent, ask for forgiveness...

...but you aren’t her, are you? You corrupted her and isolated me from my friends and family...then slapped me once you...well, that’ll change now, you’ll see. I’ll set her free.”

For ten minutes, I had almost sworn I’d seen the soul of a man come out of the cat’s body through my tears, before I’d smashed the statue upon the ground, shattering it before running upstairs to fetch the portraits, my suitcase, and all of my things, each of which I'd pack quickly, praying for forgiveness all the way out of the convent of pure hearts.

"Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water-rats;
There we’ve hid our faery vats,
Full of berries
And of reddest stolen cherries.

Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you
can understand.

Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim grey sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances,
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And is anxious in its sleep.

Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you

can understand..."-William Butler Yeats

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