The Christmas Maze ebook by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-10-25T06:27:22+00:00

Into the Swamp of Tears

17th December, 1964

How could the faceless woman speak? How was it possible that he could hear the words? There was no mouth. No way for her to make sounds. No lips. No teeth. Her face was not blank. It was just an emptiness. A void where a face should be. Yet she spoke.

“How can I hear you?” Matthew asked.

“I think, you hear,” the woman said. “You give my thoughts sound.”

Not knowing what to say or think, Matthew looked to the swamp that waited for him. The tall reeds swished, whispering, calling, “Matthew…”

“Matthew…”

“Matthew…”

Over and over, mesmerizing, like the ocean calling at night.

“Matthew…”

“Matthew….”

“Matthew…”

“Do you want to know the name of the swamp?” the Face­less woman asked, breaking Matthew’s reverie.

Matthew again wondered how was he able to hear the faceless woman’s thoughts.

“Do you want to know the swamp’s name?” The faceless woman asked again.

Did the woman have a machine Matthew could not see?

“Forget what is not there,” said the faceless woman. “Concentrate on what is. For the third time, for the final time, so take heed, do you want to know the name of the swamp?”

“You must tell me,” Matthew said. “Is that it?”

“We are in the realm of The Christmas Maze, so truth is all that’s left, truth and its opposite.”

“Lies?”

“No, not lies, lies are the result.”

“What then?”

“The opposite of truth is fear,” the faceless woman said.

“Fear?”

“Fear propels you to say and think the things that become lies. Words spoken to cover. Delusions woven to hide.”

“Fear of what, exactly?”

“Fear of the past. Fear of the present. Fear of the future. Fear of what you are and are not and could be and cannot be. Fear of being punished. Fear of being loved. Fear of being overlooked or chosen. Fear is flooded with everything we have and have not. The haves and have-nots that force us to want or not want. Fear spins a scream inside us; the scream becomes the lies we tell or the delusions we cling to.”

Matthew stood and looked at the weeds. He was filled with dread. He did not want to move forward. He did not want to proceed. He did not even want to know the name of the swamp.

“Tell me the name of the swamp,” Matthew said even though his entire being screamed not to hear the name; that in hearing the name something would be lost…or found? That thought gave him hope.

“It is good you have asked me to tell you.”

“Why?”

“Without the name you cannot proceed.”

“And you cannot tell me unless I ask?”

“I can only offer to tell the Quester three times.”

Matthew nodded. The dread inside grew. Somehow, he was going to find the courage to enter those reeds. To enter and be lost amongst their height so that he would know nothing but the feel of reeds all around. Matthew shuddered at the thought. He wondered if the gates would let him out.

“They will.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Matthew replied, as much to convince himself as to inform the woman with no face.

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