v. Second Childhood

The child was born to one of the loyal worshipers of Mandra with markings over the eyes and white hair. In growing, she was hurt, but loved. She read so many books, many of which were diaries of the lost goddess of Evil and Innocence. She never saw a tree, nor a man, nor the sun. Her bed was made of hey and chains to hold her in place.

There was no freedom except in the words of her predecessor, the stretching of imagination, the strange love of the order. She thought to herself she was being punished for who she once was, but also given a chance to choose what she would do with this abuse, if misuse it was. Here she learned that there are many kinds of freedom.

At 12, she read the last diary of the Lost Goddess. In the end, she realized that the whole of her upbringing was her own doing. The order was little more than a tool following previous program of her former self. She threw away the chains and the hey and the library to start anew and claim the gold thrown left over.

When she touched the gold seat, it turned to thorns so she would always remember redemption. She sat and began the second coming of her religion, this time younger, older, and all together wiser.

At this point Mandra really became a voice in my head that wouldn't be still. Everything I spent with her and we talked about everything, everyone, and everywhen. She told me what happened to her as a brand new Goddess and I told her the boring tails of working at Subway Salads and Sandwiches.

Fair trade, I guess.