She came with no possessions, no belongings, and no other items of clothing. Her hair was as dirty as her dress, matted and tangled. Her face was covered in soot, and she smelled as if she hadn’t washed for many weeks.
The matron took her in and bathed her. When she had finished with her, what emerged was a young woman, not exceptionally beautiful, but attractive with long, dark blonde hair, hazel eyes, a pale face, narrow nose, and perfectly white teeth.
The woman, who they had christened Emma for lack of another name, did not speak for two days after. She barely touched her food. She barely acknowledged that she was a part of this world. She would sit in the attic room staring out of the small window across at the river below, watching the barges sail in as they unloaded their produce by the docks.
It was only when the sickness came that Emma finally began to exist in this world, for want of a better word.
Peter was the first to go. A small, often grubby child with a cherubic face. He passed in the night. He was found at the foot of his bed, black blood dripping from his mouth, his eyes wide open in terror.
Doctor Forbes was called, and it was declared that the child had died through asphyxiation. No explanation could be given for the black blood.
The next child to go was Phyllis. A bonny lass of only six years old. Sweet with curly blonde hair and rosy-red cheeks. She died in the same way.
And then Norman left this world, and the Tyler twins.
And it was then that Emma spoke up. It was then that she awoke from her mental slumber. She told us that she had travelled from far away to help the children. That she had come from the light and arrived in darkness. That she had gone against the wishes of those above her to try and save the souls of our children. She was only sorry that she hadn’t been able help sooner. She told us that her trip to these lands had been particularly traumatic for her and that it had confused her. That her brain had needed time to heal.
She had heard echoes of the children, crying out in terror. She had felt compelled to come to their assistance. She said she would be punished for her transgressions, but that was not important. What was important was saving the children.
And save the children she did. To this day – and to my dying day – I will never be able to explain the manner of which she operated, but, like some sort of angel, she made her way around the orphanage, whispering strange, foreign words under her breath. She would touch each of the children’s foreheads – as if blessing them – before she finally reached a room at the back of the building. A room that had not been used in many years.
She told us that darkness lay beyond the door. That it only came out when the house was asleep. When not a soul was watching. She had a responsibility to send it back to the darkness.
She had insisted we stay back as she made her way into that blackened room. She warned us not to follow her. And so that’s where she stayed for three more days. Three days of silence. We dared not interrupt her. Then, one night, as the clock struck midnight, there came the most unearthly, terrible cry I had ever heard. There was one, single blow on the wooden door that led into the room and then nothing.
Silence.
Dawn came.
Emma exited the room, her face paler than it had seemed before. She had thanked me and the staff and then said goodbye to the children. Then she had quietly and serenely exited the building by the same doorway she had entered it. Before she left, she turned to me and gave me one more look. She explained to me that her name was not Emma, but she would always treasure it as her own.
When I asked her what her name really was, she said one, simple word – Echo.
And as the sun rose above the church across the road, the light burned bright. A light the brightness of which I had never experienced before. The sort of light that extinguishes any inch or square of darkness and burns in your eyes long after it has dispersed.
When I opened my burning eyes, Emma had gone.
The story of Emma would be told for many years to come. The story of how a mysterious girl had come to our world to save our children’s souls. How she had snuffed out the darkness and sent it back to whatever world of horror and terror it had come from.
I often wonder what Emma is doing now. Did she return to her own world? Did her people forgive her what she had done? Did she save more children? I have never seen her again and to my mind neither has anyone else, but I will die safe in the knowledge that once, in my lifetime, a true Angel walked this Earth.
The End
Copyright © 2022 by Jim Allenby
All rights reserved. This story or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
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