The Depths of Creation | Treble |

Chapter 1 - A Prophecy is Born

The wind was howling, whipping through the alleyways like a hurricane on a rampage from hell. It was said to be the worst storm the little town had seen in over three millennia. The streets were literally bare, save for a couple of brave souls out to get last minute things before the worst of the storm hit. A lone figure ran through the park, the rain whipping her habit into a flurry of robes and sashes. If anyone saw her running they would think her mad. No one ran like that anymore, save for the ones running for their lives. And maybe she was, for the nun, which is what she was as was apparent with her desired attire, ran like the hounds of hell were barking at her feet.

Sister Mary Magdalene was running, she was running like her life depended on it, and maybe it did. Maybe she wasn’t running from something like everyone that saw her hurrying form assumed. Perhaps she was running to, although to what, no one but her knew. It could have been salvation, or it could have been damnation, she wasn’t even sure which of the two it was herself. Her feet pounded on the pavement, harder and harder the faster she ran, and as she ran the phone call she had received only moments before played through her head.

“Trinity Convent this is Sister Mary Magdalene.” The young nun who answered said brightly.

“I have a need of your services sister.” A male’s voice replied on the other end, it was a chilling voice that sent shivers running up and down Mary Magdalene’s spine.

“And what services might that be Mr.…” She let the sentence hang in the air, not knowing his name, therefore not able to finish it.

“My name is of no importance sister, but the information I have regarding a certain… prophesied child is.” He replied curtly. The small nun’s face paled, and her breathing started to come in short labored gasps.

“The… Surely you are not referring to the child that will bring change to our world? The child that will have even more power and sway over people that GOD himself?” Mary was almost positive the prophesy was false, but if this man claimed to know of the child, she had to find out all that he knew, and get to the babe before the Vatican did.

“That is the child I refer to sister. I know where she is in fact. You’ve only to look in the dumpster across the way from the old library.” He had barely finished speaking when the nun slammed the receiver into place, raced to the door and bolted out of the convent.

As Mary rounded the corner that led to the old library, the worst of the storm hit, and yet she could almost hear the wail of the babe as she drew closer to the dumpster. Her hands shook as she lifted the dirty black lid, her eyes wide, heart beating a mile a minute…

Chapter 2 – Cruel Beginnings

The stifled cry of a baby pierced the night as the nun lifted the trash can lid. She peered inside, her deep brown eyes scanning the darkness. There was no sign of the baby whose cries were getting weaker and weaker by the second. With trembling fingers, Sister Mary Magdalene, known as Mary in the privacy of her bedroom to friends, reached down and slowly started moving the garbage aside. The deeper she got the more frantically she moved, her hands shaking so badly Mary could barely grab a hold of anything. After about four minutes of shifting debris and trash, Mary felt something soft and smooth. With a shout of joy she pushed aside the rest of the trash revealing a very small babe, her eyes a startling, piercing blue, her body extremely small, and her umbilical cord was still attached to her fragile body. She was wrapped in nothing but news paper and when the light hit her small form she let out a loud wail, almost screaming for someone to save her. Mary’s heart broke as she lifted the small babe from the disgusting garbage and held her close, ignoring the smell of the dirty child as she wrapped her to her body, under her jacket.

The gates to Trinity Orphanage loomed ahead as Mary walked along the path. She didn’t want to bring the baby to the wretched place, but she had no choice. The child did have the prophesied marking, the rose tattoo with the snake wrapped around it. She had cleaned the child up as best as she could on the way, but most of the dirt refused to come off, even with the constant rainfall. And she didn’t want to press to roughly on the poor child’s skin because of all the bruising that was clearly visible. Mary opened the gate to Trinity and walked up the five stone steps, her legs were shaking so badly, mostly due to exhaustion, but also because she knew what life she was giving this child to. Trinity wasn’t known for it’s kindness, nor the way it treated it’s orphans, but it was the only place that would hide the prophesied child by not letting the Vatican know of her existence. With shaking hands, Mary lifted her fist and rapped four times on the great wooden door.

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Five Years Later…

The wind rustled softly, blowing the leaves across the cracked sidewalk of Trinity Orphanage. A small child with bouncing brown curls and cobalt blue eyes was sitting in the grass next to the swing set. She was wearing a very faded pair of blue jeans that had holes in both knees, as well as along the bottoms, a ratty pair of sneakers with a hole in one shoe where her big toe stuck out, and a t-shirt that was more rags than cloth. A small frown was set on her pouty lips as she watched the other children play and run around, their screams and laughter setting her eyes on fire with envy. Why did THEY get to play and have fun and she had to sit there, watching?

“But… why do I have to sit here while the others get to play?” She asked the nun, a certain Sister Mary Clarence standing beside her.

“Why? You DARE to ask WHY you insolent little demonic child!” She reached down and yanked the child up by her hair and started dragging her across the grass, the child’s whimpers getting louder the harder her hair was pulled. “I have had enough of your lip and ignorant questions, you evil little child. It is high time you learned what happens to children of sin in THIS establishment.” The child’s blue eyes went wide in shock as the nun dragged her further, her eyes getting a little watery. Mary Clarence wrenched open the front doors and threw the child inside of the orphanage, snarling at her to shut up with the whimpers. The girl, whose face had become a tangle of pain and rage, stumbled a few times as she was thrown into the house, her feet tripping on one of the rugs and sending her flying onto her stomach. She landed with a soft *thunk* that echoed through out the deserted place. The sister was on her in an instant, dragging the child up by her hair once more and slapping her across the face.

“Next time you will simply do as you are told won’t you!? There will be no idiotic questions that have no right leaving your ungrateful little mouth!” She pulled her into a bedroom that was off to the left side, the dank smell of mildew clinging to the air of the dark room. The sister threw the child into the wall, her small body hitting the hard stone with such force, her head bounced off of it like a bobble toy. She started to cry then, small tears clinging to the sides of her cheeks as the others slid down her face and onto her shirt. With a roar of rage, the nun grabbed the child and shoved her into the opposite wall of the room in between two wooden pegs that stuck out from the stone. This was the only thing in the room save for a small wooden table in the very middle. And the only thing on the table was what looked like a coil of leather with a handle on one end. The rest of the room was stone, the walls, ceiling, and floor. Grabbing the child’s hands, the nun shoved them onto the pegs, the girl’s face smashed against the wall, her back exposed to the room.

“You will hold onto those pegs, and if you let them go, or if you move in anyway I will make this worse for you by one hundred fold.” The child, not having any idea what was about to happen, nodded her head slowly and gripped into the pegs like her life depended on it. Walking to the table, Mary Clarence picked up a knife that sat next to the coil of leather and walked back over to the trembling child where she grabbed the back of the girls shirt and cut it from the top to the bottom, leaving the girls bare back exposed to the cool air of the room. “Now we will teach you a lesson demon.” She hissed in the girl’s ear as she stepped away and grabbed the leather. It unfurled, exposing a whip, thick leather running its length. She raised her arm high behind her head and sent the whip flying through the air, a loud *crack* echoing through the air as it connected with the child’s back. She screamed, all the air leaving her small lungs, her back burning like it was on fire, and her hands almost slipped from the pegs, but she held on tightly, not wanting to give the crazed nun any more reason to punish her. Grinning, Mary Clarence let the whip fly again, this time cutting into the girl’s skin. A small trickle of blood ran down her back and another as she was whipped again. The whip flew through the air five times in total before the sister was satisfied with her work.

“That should be enough of a reminder I think.” She grinned maliciously as she coiled the leather back up and set it on the table. Walking over to the child who was barely hanging onto the pegs by now, Mary Clarence grabbed her by her hair again and pulled her away, letting her crumple to the floor. “Get to your bed.” She snarled as she kicked the girl once for good measure and turned, striding out of the room. The girl stayed laying on the floor, in the fetal position for the longest of times, her back burning like the fires of hell the sisters constantly ranted about, but after a very long while, she felt herself crawling to the open doorway. She tried to kneel, but found she couldn’t without searing pain racing her back. With tears still pouring down her small, pale cheeks, the child crawled on her hands and knees, and sometimes her stomach, to her bed. She crawled into it and lay on her belly, not moving, vowing to herself to never do anything to deserve punishment again as long as she lived.

Chapter 3 – What’s pleasing to the Ambassadors.

“Right this way Sir. The dorms for the girls are right through these doors.” Sister Catherine, now the head nun of Trinity Orphanage led a squat, plump man with balding grey hair down the hallway to the female orphan’s dorm rooms. Regulus Hawthorn was a middle age tyrant who ran Trinity with an iron fist, not allowing any frivolous spending, nor unnecessary laughter. It was a somber place, that was made to crush the innocence of children, they needed to know what the real world was like anyway. Sister Catherine walked briskly down the corridor, the very silent corridor, until she came to a halt in front of a door at the very end of the hallway. On this door was a small golden circle that was slightly extended from the rotting wood, a peep hole used by the nuns to check on the children after it was lights out. Nodding to the Ambassador of the orphanage, the sister took five steps back, allowing him to peep into the child’s room. What he saw pleased him to no extent. There, tied to a bed with blood dripping out of gashes along her arms, legs, and abdomen was a small girl with somber blue eyes, a pixie cap of dark brown hair, and pale white skin. She seemed to be trembling slightly, though it appeared as if she were sleeping, or had passed out from the pain…

Hawthorn clasped his nubby little hands together, a wicked gleam in his eyes, a malicious grin spreading across his grotesque features as he turned and beamed at Sister Catherine. “This is the one then? The one with which the prophesy was made? Remember Cathy, we must destroy all her hopes, all her dreams, all her wishes. She is to be a shell, a simple void. That prophesy must not, ever, come to pass. She is to stay here until the day she dies…”

The nun nodded her head, looking forward to the future of the child, whose name she dared not utter, for fear of what would happen should she chose to string those syllables together and say allowed what no other had ever before said. Not even the child knew her name, she was simply called ‘It’ in the orphanage. “Bring it out Sister, I wish to see how the training has come with it’s manners.” The Ambassador, in all actuality, wanted to see the extent of the damages more so than the thing’s training, but couldn’t very well say as much, so he stood, arms clasped in front of him, feet standing apart, and watched as the nun unlocked the door, walked into the room and, after kicking the girl a couple times to wake her, pulled her out by her hair. Though this didn’t even seem to phase the child, who looked to be about seven at this point. She simply crawled as fast as she could, ignoring the stinging pain as she was pulled out of her room. Doing exactly as she had been taught, as had been pounded into her on numerous occasions, the girl knelt in front of the man, her hands resting on her knees, palms up, head tilted back, exposing her neck and the raw ring around it where a rope had been tied so tightly it had chaffed her skin, her back was arched painfully so, pressing her forward as far as possible, and her eyes were closed, as was custom until allowance to look upon floor was given. Hawthorn circled the young, very pleased in her display so far, a wicked grin following his gaze over the child. “Very nice Sister Catherine, I am very pleased so far.” Leaning down, he nudged the girl’s back, kicking her forward, making her stumble into the ground, her face being planted into the wooden flooring. She stayed like that, knowing better than to get up, or move in any way, unless she was permitted to. “Oh very good, very very good Sister Catherine! Look how you’ve trained it!” The Ambassador was more than pleased with the child’s training,

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Four Years Later…

“I AM NOT A CHILD OF SIN! I HAVE A NAME! AND GODS DAMN IT STOP HITTING ME!” The screaming seemed to be coming from the very top of the Orphanage, the upper most level of the upper most level. It would seem the girl, that youngest one they referred to as ‘It’ had reached her breaking point at Trinity, and was now, at this very moment, getting ready to sky dive off the building. The nuns, who were, for the most part, scared out of their minds at this point, were begging her to calm down, stop making such a fool of herself, get off the building and come back inside. “Come now it, come inside. We can talk about this, work something out.” Matron Mother Catherine whispered as she took a small step forward. If the child jumped, the Ambassadors would be livid, and more than likely take it out on her, so she was doing everything in her power to keep the girl calm, stable, safe.

“No! I’m NOT coming back in there EVER! You can’t hit me no more! NO MORE! You HEAR me MATRON MOTHER?! NO MORE! And STOP CALLING ME IT! My name is TREBLE! I FOUND MY PAPERS! I KNOW WHO I AM! So GO AWAY!” She growled, her hands bawling into tight little fists as she turned away from the sisters. The wind had picked up heavily by this point, waving the girl’s, Treble’s, hair all over the place, it’s matted curls swinging through the air like a strand of chains. “I don’t wanna be here no more! I wanna go somewhere else, where they don’t hit me, and call me mean names, and yell at me all the time.” She whispered, more to herself than the nuns, who were still standing horror struck on the roof of the building, the wind whipping their habits to and fro. Turning, Treble stared at the horrible Matron Mother, her eyes glowing a fierce cobalt blue, so much bluer than ever before, and a low, threatening growl came out of her young throat. “You knew didn’t you! You know what he was trying to do to me! What I kept escaping from! But you didn’t do nothin! You just let him come at me!” Tears threatened to spill over the wall of hatred she had built up the past god only knew how long as Treble whipped back around, her cobalt irises slowly starting glow an iridescent blue. With resignation in her eyes, and a firm will in her mind, Treble took three steps away from the ledge and then, with the nuns holding their collective breaths, leaped over the edge of the ten story orphanage…