All The Pretty Dead Girls. John Manning
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Название: All The Pretty Dead Girls

Автор: John Manning

Издательство: Ingram

Жанр: Триллеры

Серия:

isbn: 9780786021833

isbn:

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      VIRGIN SIGHTING IN MONTERREY

      (from the Mexico City Sentinel)

      LOS ZAPATOS—Thousands of the faithful have come to this tiny town in the desert of Monterrey to watch and pray for the Virgin Mary’s intercession.

      Three young girls, all aged thirteen, went to their village priest just over a week ago to tell him of their miraculous vision. They were looking for a lost goat when, on a hilltop, the three girls heard a voice and looked up. According to the priest, Father Fernando Ortiz, the girls claimed that the “sun turned into a silver disk and moved across the sky until it was directly over their heads, where it began to spin, growing smaller and smaller until it winked out and darkness fell over the hills. Then, a small light appeared, and grew until it took the form of the Holy Mother, who then spoke to the girls. The Holy Mother asked them to pray for the repentance of mankind, and also spoke to them of other things, about which she swore them to secrecy.”

      While the girls have steadily refused to tell anyone what the Virgin Mary told them, they have returned to the hillside every day, where they claim she reappears to them and gives them other messages, again swearing them to secrecy.

      The news of the visions spread throughout the province, and now every day when the girls return to the hillside, they are joined by thousands of faithful Catholics, who maintain a distance from them while the girls are experiencing their visions of the Virgin Mary.

      A spokesperson for the Archdiocese of Mexico City refused to comment on the sightings, saying only that the Church is taking these visions very seriously and is planning on conducting its own investigation into the sightings.

      Sue paged through the clippings for the thousandth time. They were culled from newspapers and press services all over the world, and each one of them told a similar story—all within days of each other.

      A young Catholic girl in a small rural village in Vietnam was marked with stigmata. There was another vision of the Virgin Mary in a remote village in the Philippines. In each case, the children were given a message and sworn to secrecy by the Holy Mother. In Poland, in Canada, in sub-Saharan Africa, in India. Stigmata, visions of the Virgin Mary—or if she appeared to non-Christian children, she was described in terms of their own religion. “A holy lady.” “The goddess of the sky.” One Chinese girl claimed a visit from Quan Yin, the female manifestation of the Buddha. The tabloids were having a field day. ARE THESE THE END TIMES? one headline screamed.

      Sue’s hands shook as she paged through the clippings. All of the articles and stories in the first grouping were from twenty years ago. The second pile was from the last two months. They all consisted of the same type of thing: occurrences of stigmata and sightings of the Virgin.

      Sue ran her hands through her unwashed hair. Maybe I have lost my mind. None of this will make any sense to anyone. All I have to go on is the word of two women, and both of them could be completely insane.

      But if they’re insane, that doesn’t explain—

      She choked back another sob.

      Dr. Marshall came back into the living room, carrying a tray with a teakettle and two cups. There was also a sandwich on brown bread. Placing the tray down on top of several magazines on the coffee table, she poured a cup of tea for Sue and passed it over to her. She smiled apologetically.

      “I’m sorry, dear, all I had was peanut butter. I hope that’s okay. Maybe we could order a pizza or something?”

      Sue picked up the sandwich. “No, this is fine for now.” She wanted to add, but didn’t: I don’t have a lot of time.

      Dr. Marshall poured herself a cup of the tea, then picked up the pile of papers. She frowned as she paged through them all. “Sue—what are you doing with all of this?”

      Sue let the tea warm her as she leaned back into the sofa. “Sometimes, I think I’m going insane, Dr. Marshall. I think I’ve completely and utterly lost my mind. But if I’m not—if I’m right—if everything I’ve been through, been told, and found out is true, I would rather be insane.” She laughed. “I don’t even know what to think anymore.”

      “But I don’t understand.” Dr. Marshall riffled through the pile of papers again. “Why did you come here? Why did you bring this with you?”

      “Because you’re the only person who would understand.” Because a woman in a psych ward told me to come here, that you could help me, that you were meant to help me, crazy as that might sound.

      Dr. Marshall set the papers down and picked up her teacup. “This is all very interesting. Obviously, I’m very familiar with all of this, since I’m writing a book about sightings of the Virgin Mary.” She smiled. “I’ve even been to Los Zapatos, when those young girls were having their visions.”

      “And what did you think?”

      “Sue, dear, I fail to see how this—I mean, you came all this way to talk about sightings?”

      “Please, just tell me what you think about the visions in Los Zapatos. And everywhere else.”

      Dr. Marshall sighed. “The Church has never recognized any of these visitations as miracles, you know.” She took another sip of her tea. “Of course, if it had been just fifty years earlier, the Church would have been all over these incidents. Back then, they seemed to like to publicize them, to whip the devout into a bit of religious frenzy. But things have changed, and now the Church isn’t so sure…”

      Sue closed her eyes.

      Dr. Marshall studied her with concern. “But what does any of this have to do with you, Sue? Why have you run away, made your grandparents worry? This is not like you. Are you sure you don’t want me to call your grandparents, let them know you’re okay?”

      “After I tell you—” Sue bit her lip. “Just let me tell you, okay? Then we can talk about my grandparents, if you want to.”

      But I am not calling them, Sue told herself, and if you call them, I’m out of here.

      “All right.” Dr. Marshall removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “I won’t call your grandparents just yet. But talk to me, Sue. Tell me what’s going on, what’s got you acting so differently. Explain it to me.”

      So Sue told her everything.

      2

      She talked for just over three hours. Dr. Marshall didn’t interrupt, didn’t ask any questions. She just let Sue talk until she finished, betraying no emotion on her face.

      The clock on the mantelpiece read just past five thirty when Sue finished her story. The sun had gone down, and an automatic timer had turned the lights on. Every so often as Sue talked, Dr. Marshall had stood and put another log on the fire. The tea service still sat on the coffee table, the water gone cold, the cups untouched for quite some time.

      They sat in silence, the only sound the occasional crack and pop from the fireplace.

      “So,” Sue said finally, “do you think I’m crazy?”

      “I’m not sure what to think, to be honest.” Dr. Marshall replied, standing up and picking up the tray. She carried it out of the room.

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