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Father Wren shuddered. How had this creature gotten inside the Church? For once,
he was glad that no light was allowed to penetrate the confessional booth. No
matter how enlightened he believed himself to be, how could he not be prejudiced
at the physical differences between Ophiuchians and humankind? And how much
more difficult this encounter was considering that this creature could read his
thoughts.
He shook his head to clear it. "So you are an inhabitant of Ophiuchi 4, Ping?"
"Yes, Father, and I seek to unite with Chloe."
A heavy emotion weaved through Ping’s words. It sang to the primitive side of
Father Wren, deep inside his soul. But what was it? What stirred his passion so that
he lived, breathed, and felt this ancient emotion?
It was love. Strong and true, as solid as the centuries past, this Ophiuchian
genuinely loved the human Chloe.
Mother of God! Here was a can of worms he had no desire to open.
"Er, Ping. As you probably know, this...this is highly unusual." Sweat beaded on
Father Wren’s high forehead. Unusual wasn’t an unusual enough word. "I should, er,
talk with Chloe Vargas about this matter before we...we go any farther."
"Understood, Father." An amused inflection now laced Ping’s speech. "Matrimony is
a blessed sacrament. Number seven on the list, I believe. You must confer with
Chloe. She is the limb of my heart."
With a white cotton handkerchief, Father Wren wiped away perspiration. "How do
you speak our language and know so much about our religion? About us?"
"Do not be troubled, Father. Chloe will explain all. We have conversed many long
hours in the night. I feel I know her as well as I know myself."
A rustling behind the dark netting separating the booths indicated that Ping moved.
Given the Ophiuchian’s trunk structure, exactly how that was accomplished Father
Wren had no idea.
"I will leave you now, Father. After your discussion with Chloe, we will talk again."
The creature was gone. Instinctively, Father Wren knew this to be so. Collapsing
against the back of the booth’s wall, he mopped at his forehead, again. Holy Mother
of God! Of a certainty, now he had heard every story in the book!
Heard. He recalled the Ophiuchian’s words about conversing with Chloe Vargas. The
poor child’s mishap clearly made a liar out of Ping. Because of an explosion six weeks
ago at one of the mines, Chloe’s hearing was completely gone. The only way to
communicate with her was either by writing or by her lip reading.
But maybe Ophiuchians did have lips.
Recalling the tree-like shape of these native lifeforms, Father Wren shuddered,
again. He then immediately bowed his head to pray. What he needed most of all in
this truly bizarre situation was divine guidance and a loving attitude to the infinite
diversity of life. After all, everything was beautiful in God’s eyes. Before he
contacted Chloe Vargas, he had to rid himself of prejudice.
Susanne Marie Knight © 2009
he was glad that no light was allowed to penetrate the confessional booth. No
matter how enlightened he believed himself to be, how could he not be prejudiced
at the physical differences between Ophiuchians and humankind? And how much
more difficult this encounter was considering that this creature could read his
thoughts.
He shook his head to clear it. "So you are an inhabitant of Ophiuchi 4, Ping?"
"Yes, Father, and I seek to unite with Chloe."
A heavy emotion weaved through Ping’s words. It sang to the primitive side of
Father Wren, deep inside his soul. But what was it? What stirred his passion so that
he lived, breathed, and felt this ancient emotion?
It was love. Strong and true, as solid as the centuries past, this Ophiuchian
genuinely loved the human Chloe.
Mother of God! Here was a can of worms he had no desire to open.
"Er, Ping. As you probably know, this...this is highly unusual." Sweat beaded on
Father Wren’s high forehead. Unusual wasn’t an unusual enough word. "I should, er,
talk with Chloe Vargas about this matter before we...we go any farther."
"Understood, Father." An amused inflection now laced Ping’s speech. "Matrimony is
a blessed sacrament. Number seven on the list, I believe. You must confer with
Chloe. She is the limb of my heart."
With a white cotton handkerchief, Father Wren wiped away perspiration. "How do
you speak our language and know so much about our religion? About us?"
"Do not be troubled, Father. Chloe will explain all. We have conversed many long
hours in the night. I feel I know her as well as I know myself."
A rustling behind the dark netting separating the booths indicated that Ping moved.
Given the Ophiuchian’s trunk structure, exactly how that was accomplished Father
Wren had no idea.
"I will leave you now, Father. After your discussion with Chloe, we will talk again."
The creature was gone. Instinctively, Father Wren knew this to be so. Collapsing
against the back of the booth’s wall, he mopped at his forehead, again. Holy Mother
of God! Of a certainty, now he had heard every story in the book!
Heard. He recalled the Ophiuchian’s words about conversing with Chloe Vargas. The
poor child’s mishap clearly made a liar out of Ping. Because of an explosion six weeks
ago at one of the mines, Chloe’s hearing was completely gone. The only way to
communicate with her was either by writing or by her lip reading.
But maybe Ophiuchians did have lips.
Recalling the tree-like shape of these native lifeforms, Father Wren shuddered,
again. He then immediately bowed his head to pray. What he needed most of all in
this truly bizarre situation was divine guidance and a loving attitude to the infinite
diversity of life. After all, everything was beautiful in God’s eyes. Before he
contacted Chloe Vargas, he had to rid himself of prejudice.
Susanne Marie Knight © 2009
Excerpt From
"The Convert"
by Susanne Marie Knight
"The Convert"
by Susanne Marie Knight
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