Lymene Holy Mother of Divine Grace E-Book

Goeran B Johansson

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 365

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

The book is a novel, mostly in dialogue, between a Swedish pensioner Johan and the strongly Catholic believer, young, beautiful, and vulnerable Filipino mother of many children, Lymene, who is in the Philippines under another name. Lymene wants to be called Mary because she adores the Virgin Mary of all her heart. In the hard daily life, Lymene is under the strict control of her father-in-law, the rigorous Catholic patriarch, Father Alberto Notchea, and the whole family, friends, and relatives. When Johan, whom she has known for many years, this time comes on a quick visit, Lymene is forced by Father Alberto Notchea to wear a chastity belt but still, controlled by a strictly global digitized encrypted system, is allowed to go with him on a trip from the Philippines via Thailand, further across the Eurasian continent to Sweden where, for better or worse, she gets to experience a country in political chaos and with a different moral view than the one that exists in her home country. On the way back to the Philippines, Mary and Johan fly together over Catholic Poland further into orthodox re-Christianized Russia, where Eurasianism is in a dramatic confrontation with Globalism. Then, finally, the journey goes via Malaysia back to the Philippines, where everything gets a theatrical and unexpected solution.

Leseprobe

CONTENTS

Paci Conciliande

The Betrothal

In the Chapel of Our Lady of the Sacred Heart Parish

Dramatics in Bangkok

The Dialogue in the Stratosphere

Through Sweden on the State Railways

In Stockholm

In Gothenburg and the Surrounding Area

A Bygone Era

The Return Takes Over

In Moscow

Conversation with Larissa Fjodorovna

Eurasianism Confronts Atlanticism

An Encrypted Message

Holy Mother of Divine Grace

Locus Praescriptum

About the Author

Paci Conciliandae

I had planned extremely carefully and packed everything; moreover, as usual, far too much in my two trunks; a combined backpack that you could also pull on wheels if needed; Also, a giant trunk which runs on wheels and can be controlled with a light touch where you want it. In the biggest one, I had my violin in a specially designed case, yes, decimated merely, in the sense that it was sawed off at the top to put the violin only. But not the violin bow. Because on the plane, it can happen they do not allow to bring in a violin case in the cabin, as it is eighty centimeters long towards the permitted fifty-four. I, therefore, guarded myself because the case was still sixty centimeters. If they would say no, then I could have it in the trunk; I had placed the violin bow in a hard-wearing PVC tube that just went into the chest on the diagonal, so everything was arranged in detail with the practicality.

I think of her, the only one, most of the time. She is within me always present, and now I eagerly wait for her to get in touch in one way or another, either through Facebook Messenger or SMS. Meanwhile, in my room at Cleaver Learn Residences, located along Quezon National Highway, a short distance from the internationally famous Filipino Bigfoot film institute, I was busy preparing to check where my money was scattered in various hiding places.

Cleaver Learn Residences is an English student institution from the neighboring countries of the Philippines. Mainly Japanese as well as Koreans but also Filipinos who intend to serve as so-called caregivers or housekeepers. It usually applies to the Middle East and English-speaking countries such as the United States and the United Kingdom to care for the elderly. Yes, I am undoubtedly seventy-three already, but it is not yet time for me, I think, though it can come quickly! You never feel safe!

At this particular moment, I was pacing back and forth in the room in expectant hope to see her, the only one, come to visit me here in her new raffish and slightly challenging dress, which she received as a gift from my only daughter in Sweden. It is semi-voluntary extra work I have to supplement my minimum level of European pension from the Swedish state. Moreover, it may well be added that she had promised she would put on the accompanying silver earrings.

I was just about to grab the mighty trunk when it beeped in one of my phones; a Samsung Galaxy J100ML where I have my Philippine SIM card. In the other mobile, a Sony Xperia Z2 with a few years on the neck, but of very high quality, I have a mobile bank-ID and my Swedish Fello SIM card, in case any of my clients that I am a Legal Guardian and Trustee for, would like to contact me during my monthly stay in Southeast Asia. However, one cannot wholly rely on mobile banking working abroad; once it happened, when I arrived from the Philippines to Thailand and would pay the room, both bank-id were corrupted. So, I could not log in and activate my Nordea Visa Gold or Swedbank / Handelsbanken's Mastercard. So, a severe money crisis would have arisen if I did not have three physical safety boxes for my three banks. I could have been forced to sleep under the sky in the worst case. Likewise, I always have several pays as well as credit cards scattered in different wallets in different places, yes, yes, I must reluctantly admit that I am starting to be uncertain of my memory nowadays, so I write it all up in my Microsoft Office 365 Excel plan in one of my two laptops.

An ASUS K 52 F and a faithful servant, an IBM T-43, complement each other positively, and I am bringing them when I travel a long distance, like now, 14 000 kilometers in three rounds. In Thailand, Arlanda Bangkok's first phase is the worst, so I spent the night resting after a strenuous twelve-hour flight. The next day, the journey went from Bangkok to Kuala Lumpur in Malaysia, and finally, I reached the Philippines and Cebu in the Visayas. On both of my laptops and mobiles, I have passwords. But no matter how you guard, you still run the risk of forgetting the password to the computers, which happened to me once when I was in a room with her during the heat of the battle; I have known her since October 2008, so it is approaching ten years now.

I snapped up the Samsung and saw it was she who I had in mind since last year. She wrote in a text message that she was sitting in a taxi and was already away at Marina Mall, a few kilometers from my hotel room, so she wanted me to wait because she wanted to inspect my nose, she said. Ha-ha, yes, she has a fondness for that one; I know this more than well.

My only one is called Lymene but, she wants me to call her Mary because it is her first real name in her secret double name; She says she would like to be contacted by that name because the Holy Virgin Mary is her role model in everything.

I waited for what else I could do. I wanted to see her now. It seemed like an eternity, but suddenly I heard her typical three knocks, which have an unmistakable rhythm and dynamic strength. I had listened to them now for years, especially after midnight, around the early morning, outside my bamboo hut in Marigondon, when I previously lived here more or less permanently.

I carefully opened the door, and when she entered the room, it was as if she had come from an alien planet. But it was indeed here on Earth, and she, if any, is down to earth in her whole self. She carried a small child in her arms. It shone like a halo around her face and her neck. She wore a rosary and a crucifix.

The dress she wore was of the minimal kind in her scope. But it was excellent on her otherwise rather slender body. Its color was a mix of a gray-white mixture. The pattern as such, in itself very interesting in its intricacy, which fit in perfectly with the lady in question who is also superbly cunning in her distinctive ability to treat and capture her victim's interest, went into waves in beautiful frills, which in their places completely transparent revealed her naked skin. At the bottom, in the vicinity of the strictly private area, a man, in this case, poor Johan, destroyed in the solitude of Sweden's loneliness, could barely discern anything at all. At the top, between her clean face and waist, the dress's border went utterly in line with her swelling bust, which was challenging throughout its substantial striking weight. The other visible parts of her skin shimmered shiny in a beautiful treasure. Her lips were indescribably beautiful, as well as sensually moist, as she spoke gruff English, where she appeared in front of me in the middle of the room. While in such a typical Filipino fashion, she rocked the baby by taking one step to each side in a steady but soft rhythm. Then she grasped the rosary, grabbed the crucifix, kissed it gently, made the cross, and began the apostolic creed. Then she read the Lord's Prayer and, finally, Hail Mary. But when she came to the final order, "Holy Mary, the Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and in our time of death," then I felt such an immense affection for her apparent vulnerability. As I always, inexplicably, yes, just as a universal geostrategic magnet has been drawn in combination with her beautiful figure. Through the years, it felt like from the middle, depressed emotional, conscious, and or unconscious, as some insufficient translucent protection against the outside world.

– I come from a Catholic chapel located in the neighborhood where I live, and I go there every day to pray for my small children for us to have food on the table, began Mary.

– But, dear Mary, I interjected in surprise; I do not even know where you live after all these years we have known each other. You are just popping up here and there in various rooms in which I happen to find myself. So, what shall I think of you?

– But Johan, you know how it is. I live only for my children, and I cannot invite you home to my house, because if they see such a wafo1 there, they will not feel sorry for me anymore, and help me, Mary replied.

– Do you mean in the house along Sudtungan Street in Basak, Lapu Lapu, where you can stay for free owned by the man's father who gave birth to your children and pays for both foods various other supplies? I asked headstrongly.

– But Johan! You insist on claiming things like people, preferably my envious countrymen, trying to imagine you all the time. I live in a small, insignificant room ordered by an aunt, a Samaritan, working within the Catholic Church that helps me. My children's father is a very moral man with great integrity, in a very high position within the Philippine city administration, and an idol interpreter of patriarchal Catholicism. He doesn't even want to deal with me, who are poorly groomed. He stays on his edge; sits in his palace-like chalet of the villa; eating foods that we poor can only do in a dream. But he purposely helps me because I, as the exposed single mother, take care of his grandchildren, and I do so of my whole soul. He was supposed to be out of despair, even furious, if he learned that I'm here with you Johan this time, Mary replied extensively.

Mary shaped her lips the same way as the first time I met her nearly ten years ago in a hotel room in Buyong in Maribago, which ended in an exceptionally morally questionable means. Yes, even provocative, if by provocation, we mean a highly active erotic challenging process. For the explicit purpose of merely losing oneself, within the conservative Catholicism, strictly banned extramarital animal activity.

But Johan! I don't recognize you anymore. You did things without a report in the past, but nowadays, you seem delusional, as if you somehow lost interest and enjoyment of life. Is there anything that worries you especially? How have you had it in Sweden during the last year? Asked Mary.

– Sweden, yes, yes, I replied thankfully, since it was within me that stage was played since our first meeting. You understand in Sweden, for good or evil, is State Feminism ruling.

– Feminism!! What is this?

Mary looked like a physically shapeless question mark, yet again she made that irresistible tearing lip, which I could never resist. What incredible authenticity there was in her answer! What helplessly unpredictable facial expression she raised! I have never seen such an apparent naked and unprotected surprise in my entire seventy-three-year-old life. She never even seemed to be confronted with the phenomenon as such. For that reason alone, I decided to try to explain to her what feminism is. We might be able to develop some dialogue in that regard, where we could set feminism, if you will, against conservative Catholicism because I knew how closely tied, with or against her will, Mary is to the same.

I was suddenly struck by Mary's proposed behavior when we were just about to deal with the soul-searching. She seemed to have in some inexplicable way discovered and known of my inner volcano of suppressed emotions. Suddenly, she came and stood right in front of me in the ready position, still with the baby in her arms and with the rosary and crucifix around her slender neck. I was just about to open my mouth in an awkward query phrase, but I could not do that before she resolutely, indeed almost bluntly, straddled my legs, still rocking the baby in her arms. Her bust appeared tempting, though well protected and hidden inside the upper part of the dress, while the lower part had gone up along her slender thighs, which were abundantly covered with dark hair. She occasionally rocked with the little still in her arms, in a way that inevitably stimulated some parts of my cluttered body, until I suddenly couldn't resist, and it came to a firework display of physical convulsions. I felt as if I had been sent back a few decades in the time of the immense power of Mary's passionate embrace where we became one flesh.

1 Wafo in Cebuano or Gwapo in Tagalog means elegant or handsome.

The Betrothal

Later on, I met Mary at Moon Café in the large department store, Gaisano Grand Mall, next to Marigondon Road in Basak, Lapu Lapu, to celebrate our new engagement. We had already agreed on this meeting the day before. I had therefore already bought a couple of reasonably lovely, rather expensive silver rings at Unisilver on the second floor of the department store. With which I was now about to cover our so bare respective ring fingers. I sat in anxious anticipation to see her glimpse past outside the large panoramic windows, which look out onto the department store's central part with its swarms of people swarming around in the various shops.

While I closed my eyes for a while and dreamed of seeing her revelation, I fantasized whether she would be dressed as usual in some scruffy tight skirt or even distinctly cut off worn fringe-edged jeans, which she often used to wear.

Suddenly, it felt as if the air, yes, the whole room, was vibrating, and I was reminded of a previous earthquake I experienced in Marigondon Beach a few years ago, not far from here. When I desperately opened my eyes, she stood there in front of me. Little fragile Mary! Single mother responsible for several Philippine charming toddlers. She had a large bag in her hand and was dressed in dense, gray-blue, tight-fitting jeans, probably of the "Tiger" brand, which smeared around her noble part. It may well be implicated in this context that Mary is progressing like a real tigress, always on the chop with sharpened claws and playing melancholy eyes and a tricky smile over her full-bodied moist and almost over sensual lips. Above the jeans looked up, half a half-transparent blouse in Miss Selfridge Petit style, with a soft color mix between pure yellow, yellow-orange, and light greenish-yellow. Under this blouse, I could distinguish a bra model, a la the type Eva's underwear. With a full cup that was supposed to cover the bust in its entirety. But in Mary's case, this was doomed to fail for the simple reason that her figure is so swelling full, so it instead reshaped to the extent that it crawled out of the whole cups and lay down to rest as well as two firm-ripe mango fruits. The restaurant where we were was empty of people. Not even a waiter was in the vicinity. Still, one had already served a wedding dinner consisting of an appetizer with different types of fresh vegetables and the main course in the form of my and also Mary's favorite, which was crispy dried dangit with garlic rice. Each mango shake was also served in shiny crystal glasses.

- You look so surprised, a little frightened, Mary said, as she gently sat on the armchair.

- Yeah, well, maybe that, I exclaimed a little awkwardly in what I was trying to tie up my feelings.

Mary sat opposite me and looked at me with her eager, verdigris green eyes, and I picked up two silver rings. I put one on her right ring finger, and she put the other on my right one.

After that, we kissed, and applause came from the restaurant's bar counter, where suddenly all old familiar waiters were curious and looked at the simple ceremony.

– Johan, I want us to pray a table prayer according to our Catholic tradition, Mary said with a definite tone in the voice.

As I already knew very well how firm a believer Mary is and that she is weak and alone responsible for her children's survival, even though I consider myself to be an atheist, I did not want to hurt her by saying no. Therefore, I endorsed with tenderness.

– Yes, my dear. We prayed according to Mary's wishes in English: Bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen.

After the meal was finished, we prayed together according to the same tradition: We give Thee thanks, Almighty God, for all Thy benefits, who livest and reignest world without end. Amen. May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.

Mary continued urgently as she observed my respectable embrace of her request, suggesting a visit to the Chapel of Our Lady of the Sacred Heart Parish 2, located not far from where we sat.

– You understand I don't know, but I´m a little uncertain about you because I think I know you are not a Christian, even if you said earlier you are both baptized and confirmed. But it was in the nineteenth century in Sweden within the Protestant Church, and it is some difference between it and our noble Mary cult glorifying Roman Catholic ditto. No matter what, I would like to show you our noble Catholic religion, for it is, as you know, the world's most significant Christian church with well over a billion believers. Here in the Philippines, we would not manage without its help in need; for the distress that is what I live in every eternal day, Mary said with melancholy in her voice.

In the last paragraph of the Catholic speech, I could easily question as an atheist and was on the point of immediately protest and argue, but I did not want to hurt the fragile Mary, so I said:

– Yes, my love! Then we go to the chapel you just suggested.

When we got out from Grand Mall and pushed into the crowd, we went to the best looking of all the tricycles; Mary with her big bag and me with my Ecolac laptop backpack.

The tricycle took a treacherous journey along Marigondon Road, through the three-way junction with Ibabao Street. The BSM Express Hotel is like a good plump in the otherwise typically Filipino mud of concrete and sheet metal shelf. The trip in the tricycle continued along Marigondon Road, which goes through Marigondon Crossing where you turn left to Maribago and Buyong, further past Soong towards Mactan and Punta Engano. If you turn right, you come to Cordova. If you continue straight ahead, you come to Kalubihan, where there is an exit towards Blue Reef and, further on, the internationally well-known and elegant Plantation Bay where the World Cup in tennis took place several times. Finally, as a destination, you arrive at Marigondon Beach.

Mary sat next to me and suddenly she called to the driver that we were at the goal.

I gave the driver a fifty peso note because it was a unique ride where only the two of us went to a specific target.

2 Our Lady of the Sacred Heart Parish. Located in Marigondon, Lapu Lapu, Philippines.

In the Chapel of Our Lady of the Sacred Heart Parish

After jumping out of the tricycle, which stopped just next to the area entrance, a sight met where the mighty chapel rose about ten feet up towards a clear blue sky. It was light gray and conical in shape and built-in compact cement. Some type of surface-bearing beams extended along the sides, from the lower part of the roof to about forty-five degrees angle up the top of the chapel, where a cross neatly sat.

Mary, anxiously carrying a bag in her hand, and I, who took her hand, hiked through the wide gate and took us vigorously into the very spacious bench-filled hall. It's mighty well-cleaned, not to say pedantically polished blue-gray floors of any tile-like stone material; it could be marble, felt so steady when you walked there with slippers on your feet. An approximately two-meter vast stretch reached the altar in the middle, which glimpsed about thirty meters further on. Filipino, rough-cut, heavy, solid, and super-steady bamboo benches stood by the sides for certainly several hundred people.

When we arrived at the altar, we could discern Jesus Christ, nailed on the cross above a red felted armchair, and just to the left of him stood the Virgin Mary statue in her beautiful light blue mantle, where the sleeves lined up in the pink silk-like fabric. She gently held the baby child with his pious, secure face in her arms. It was a touchingly strong contrast to first look at the Jesus Child who was so alive and, at the same time, looking into the altar, seeing Jesus Christ crucified. Up ahead was the priest prepared to give communion.

– Johan, I would like us here and now to fortify our betrothal through the altar's most sacred sacrament, communion. After that, Mary, with a thoughtful gesture, tried to pick up a glass, fill it with red wine, and provide both of us with a wafer.

– But dear Mary, I said, why only a glass and, incidentally, neither you nor I can drink the wine, and I cannot get the Eucharist, as it is also called, in this chapel because I am not a Catholic. We must wait for it until the bishop gets his say.

– Well, Mary said, you can, in this case, you will soon be aware of this, and it depends on some circumstance. A glass of wine means wine only to the priest because it is just he who drinks the wine, and I can say because there is a male patriarchal order within the Catholic Church and there are no female priests here as in your decadent Protestant Lutheran church.

Mary suddenly looked very worried but said firmly:

– But first, because I have sinned so hard, I must confess to Father Alberto Notchea, a Nestor in Cebu and Lapu Lapu; he is at the altar up there. Otherwise, I request a sacrilegious if we take Communion without confession, said Mary.

– What is the most severe sin you have ever committed, dear Mary? I asked thoughtfully.

– I have previously been with you, Johan, on countless occasions, although I am not married.

– How can you be so sure that the bishop will let you be confessed in that regard? I wondered.

– I am sure Father Alberto Notchea will agree; He is my children's grandfather, who I have with his son Roberto Notchea, and I have never been married. It is why he allows you to receive the sacrament of the holy altar. Even though you are not Catholic, this is the core of the problem if you want to, Mary answered confidently.

– So, you have already sinned against it, I implicated. Also, Father Alberto Notchea himself has been compromised by accepting this slip, I said with assurance despite his high position in the Catholic Church.

– So, it is safe to say that it is, Mary said.

At the same time, Father Alberto Notchea came to Mary for her to confess.

– Come up here to the altar, my child, 'said Father Alberto soothingly to Mary, and then she went to him.

I went from there out of the chapel because the confession before the bishop in the confessional is only for a Catholic to be reconciled with God and the church as such. Therefore, I could not even know what was said. Although I could imagine Mary asking for the forgiveness of sins, for her frenetic fraternization with me over the years down here in Lapu Lapu, as I, if I could have been confessed myself, therefore, would have asked for my sins for all the one hundred and nineteen young striking Filipinas, with whom I slept with the best of intentions, to help them in the hard Philippine everyday life. After a while, Mary came out from the gate and happily waved at me to come in again.

– Johan, come here to us because now we must dedicate ourselves to the altar's holy sacrament, Mary said excitedly.

Father Alberto Notchea called us up to the altar where we would receive the Holy Sacrament of the Altar, the Eucharist, for the noble purpose that unites us with Christ's body and blood.

– The Communion, my children, said Father Alberto, allows our union with Christ, grow in strength and continued: The Lord says: He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him.

After that, Father Alberto took a wafer, gave it to us to put in the mouth, and said:

– My body is being sacrificed for you. Do this in memory of me.

Next, Father Alberto took a silver cup with the red wine and said:

– This cup is the new covenant through my blood, which is shed for you. However, the one who betrays me has his hand here on the table with me. The Son of man goes the determined path, but woe to the man through whom he is betrayed.

Further on, only Father Alberto drank from the beaker. Although Mary and I perceived very clearly through our minds all that happened in this, the most sacred of all the Catholic Church's sacrament, it is still appropriate to recall that it is only faith in God that is the most important. One should just believe in God's authority, and it is immaterial whether it is true or not; what is preached.

– The Eucharist, Johan, said Mary softly, commits to the poorest to whom I mainly belong. So, therefore, to indeed receive the body and blood of Christ, released and shed for us, we should recognize Christ in the very poorest, his brothers and sisters.

After joining us in Jesus Christ, we looked at each other, and I was overwhelmed by the beauty that shone from Mary's beautiful face. A tenderness grabbed my otherwise insensitive and uncontrollable inner, and my heart suddenly felt heavy in the chest and hit a severe blow, and I felt the pulse pounding in my whole body. She not only looks brittle; she is really, but at the same time, she is also challenging. She is adamant and resistant. Her facial expression radiated with motherly tenderness as if she had an invisible halo around her beautiful little head, where the otherwise so bright hair in this now sat firmly in the neck. She was also before. I know who met her for almost ten years since the first time at Boyla Hotel down in Maribago at Mactan beach, in a room where we converged for the first time after I first, on my French 1820s violin, had played the introduction to Pablo de Sarasate's famous Zigeunerweisen.

As she appeared in this now in front of me in Marigondons Catholic chapel, she gave such a fragile and insecure impression that I always wanted to protect her from Philippine's insecurity daily worries.

– Johan, Mary said suddenly, we can't go in at the side of the chapel to the sacristy, yes, or no, really, it's a standard room where Father Alberto usually is before he performs his task in the chapel. So when we get in there, I can then show you my nice coat that I have with me in the bag.

– Do you mean the house to the left of the main entrance, where there is also a piano and a resting place with a bible on the nightstand? I asked?

– Yes, this house, I mean, replied Mary relaxed.

I remembered this room for some years when I was with one of Mary's women friends here. It was a very striking revelation that asked me to play the violin and accompany the piano to the church choir, who would sing in the chapel. At that time, we were outside it for me, then an utterly unknown room, and the guys rolled out the piano outside the same. I remember how impressed I was with her Bible quote in fluent English.

The old wooden door creaked as it slid up after Mary opened it with the key she got from her father-in-law before we left the chapel for confession and communion.

The room was more extensive and more elegant than I could ever have imagined since I only saw it from a few years ago back in time.

A beautiful floor consisting of completely white, approximately thirty-centimeter square tiles, with light blue artfully carved patterns of all possible church motifs, spread out over the level of the room, which was perhaps around forty square meters in size; The walls of cement were beautifully painted with different Catholic church motifs. However, what struck me mainly was a mural that strongly reminded me of Carl Block's painting, "The Last Meal." which sees the Apostle Judas Iscariot, who retires from the community after deciding to betray Jesus.

Along the wall, which faces the chapel, there was a broad, well-made bed where a wrinkle could not be seen in the bedspread. And you would have been able to roll a peso coin across the same without it would have fallen over. What was striking and sharply contrasted with the painting of Jesus and the twelve disciples of "The Last Supper" was a statue of the Virgin Mary standing in the corner of the room beside the bed. The Virgin Mary was dressed in a robe costume that went all the way into the glittering white and where I could clearly and distinctly distinguish and identify quite large brown orange-yellow floral-like symbols scattered all over the costume. Right down from the floor through the waist, which was snatched with a band of the same color as all flower-like symbols in general and up to the neck, the suit ended with a similarly sober binding. Over her shoulders, she wore a mantle jacket, shimmering in bright blue color and with golden-yellowed ornamented intarsia patterns along the entire inner edge of the mantle, which bordered her slender waist; The sides of the mantle jacket were stylishly adorned, with gold-shiny leaf-like patterns. A snow-white shawl covered the head whose crimson hairstyle was well-combed, and on the head sat a gold crown, which was surrounded by a silver wreath with star-like symbols in the tops. She wore the Holy Child confidently in her arms.

Mary took me carefully in hand and walked towards the bed, and then sat down gently on edge with me.

The piano, a Yamaha digital ditto, stood along the long wall, and Mary looked at it and said:

– Johan, you play the piano! Can't you play anything just for the Virgin Mary to commemorate Jesus Christ where the evil Judas betrays him? Mary asked.

– Indeed, I can undoubtedly play something. Still, nothing that directly fits in with neither the painting of Jesus and the twelve disciples, Judas Iscariot nor the Virgin Mary, I responded rationally.

– But I know that you play Chopin because I have seen and heard on your YouTube profile, Mary insisted.

I chose directly to play Praeludium no 15, Sostenuto, or as it is, is usually called "The raindrop prelude." It fitted great well with its brittle introduction in Dess major, where the raindrops are alternately illustrated in both hands. Suddenly, the intro of melancholy turns into the parallel mode, Bb minor, before the prelude unexpectedly turns into a dramatic fateful powerful ciss-minor part, where the raindrops, which are also illustrated herein both hands, receive a fateful right-hand sext and quintessential harmony, which later reaches the climax with a myriad of harmonic tensions eventually waning and dying away. Mary had been lying down on the bed, in a relaxed position while listening, and when I finished, she said:

– I would like to be alone for a little while only, Johan, if I guess you don't mind it," Mary said, relaxed.

– You are right, darling; then I go out for a while so you can change in peace. I look forward to seeing your revelation when you are finished; I replied servile.

I left the pleasantly air-conditioned sacristy and walked out into the humid, roaring evening air towards Marigondon Road. While I was standing there, I thought about when I had previously been here with Mary's friend Locejyn when we worked with the choir. Yes, it is just as good that I say it was sure I was interested in Locejyn. At that time, several years ago, I hadn't gotten up at all for fragile little Mary. Nowadays, however, I do not think of any other woman. I realize that it depends not only on her beauty throughout her simplicity but also on her mother's instinct and that she is so stubbornly looking for me, by all she can undoubtedly attract.

The noise from the Marigondon Road traffic was most noticeable in ear-dropping, with everything from luxurious Japanese VAN, via some Volkswagen Cabriolet and lots of light MCs as well and, it must be emphasized, Jeepneys and last but not least, all the stubborn tricycles whirling past.

I drew a deep breath and went back to the sacristy and knocked on the door lightly.

– Is that you, Johan, asked a somewhat distant voice that sounded like I expected, namely Mary's little brittle voice.

– May I come in? I asked carefully.

– Just come in, Johan," Mary replied.

I opened the door to stand as welded to the floor as I saw her standing beside the entire bed.

Mary was dressed in a robe costume that went all the way into the glittering white and where I could clearly and distinctly distinguish and identify quite large brown orange-yellow floral-like symbols scattered all over the costume. Right down from the floor through the waist, which was snatched with a band of the same color as all flower-like symbols in general and up to the neck, the suit ended with a similarly sober binding. Over her shoulders, she wore a mantle jacket, shimmering in bright blue color and with golden-yellowed ornamented intarsia patterns along the entire inner edge of the mantle, which bordered her slender waist; The sides of the mantle jacket were stylishly adorned, with gold-shiny leaf-like patterns. A snow-white shawl covered the head whose crimson hairstyle was well-combed, and on the head sat a gold crown, which was surrounded by a silver wreath with star-like symbols in the tops.

– Johan, I was just finished with the change of clothes before you knocked on the door.

– But, I stammered, you, yes, yes, I don't know? But what should I say? You look like an angel descending from the ceiling of the vault of heaven, and your dress could have been the same as the Virgin Mary wearing on the statue in the corner away from the bed if it were not for the difference in size between them.

At the corner opposite the Virgin Mary, Jesus Christ from Nazareth hung on the cross. On the painting on the second long wall, Judas Iscariot walked away, ashamed after deciding to betray Jesus at the Last Supper the night before he was crucified.

- I got it from Father Alberto, grandfather of my little ones, replied Mary, who seemed rather flattered than surprised at my reaction. He said he thought I would fit great in it. Not only in terms of clothing but above all morally, because he thinks I am a mother who lives and sacrifices everything for his son's children, his only beloved grandchild.

While Mary told and walked back to the side, gently putting herself on the edge of the bed, she smiled such a smile, subtly, defiantly but at the same time malignant, elaborate, loving, brittle, and unprotected smile, continually putting on her irresistibly full lips. These Filipino lips of the lips that I have never been able to resist not a single time. As I felt weak in my legs, I approached her where she sat throughout her glory on the bedside, and our lips met in an eternal cloud.

– Johan, come to me, said Mary with a trembling voice as she lay down on her back in bed with the mantle all her splendor around her fragile body.

– Well, I mean, what should I say? I stemmed with a thick and somewhat shaky, unsteady voice.

Mary was now in a position that could not in any way be misunderstood. Not that it seemed vulgar or even offensive, but she was lying there just in her beautiful Mary mantle neatly protecting her body and suddenly said:

– Come and lie down beside me because I feel so tired and weak. Touch me and get closer because I want to feel your nose. You know I love it more than anything else. And the white skin that you have destroyed in the sunshine down here.

I came closer to Mary but felt very uncertain, for her attire made me feel a specific resistance to the closer touch. In the end, I took courage and stroked her carefully over the robe, so she began to breathe slowly and deeply.

– Can't you go out for a while so I may prepare myself properly before you come back? Mary asked.

– Yes, I replied, somewhat embarrassed, and felt the blush flare-up in the already sun-tanned face: I immediately went out into the warm, humid afternoon air.

After what seemed to be an eternity, I got the go-ahead to come in again. When I entered, I stopped as speechless inside the door as I gently closed behind me. In the middle of the room on the bed lay a graceful creation, and beside her, it had neatly unfolded a Virgin Mary's mantle with all other central equipment also. The new candle burned in candelabra candlesticks made of silver on the bedside tables, and the atmosphere was incredibly binding. Jesus Christ was nailed to the cross on the right side of the bed, and the Virgin Mary stood statue on the left holding the newborn, so pious, benevolent Jesus child in her secure arms. You could, even if you didn't want to, on the long wall on the board, which glimpsed ghostly on the wall in the weak dazzling light from the candelabra candlesticks, see Judas Iscariot ashamed to leave the last meal.

Mary was only wearing a brassiere on the upper part. When my gaze wandered down her body until it reached the lower part of the waist, I could see some girdle like a belt of some sort, and that seemed to be entirely metal, which covered her entire abdomen to hide the secret below wholly. It appeared to be of iron, and along the waist went an approximately three-centimeter full band that looked like hand-riveted. On each side of the abdomen, there was a fastener in the form of some hasp. In it hung a forged chain that looked down towards the indentation. In the chain, there was a solid locking device of some mysterious kind. According to my rapid assessment, the lock seemed contaminated and very old, subsequent to medieval. But instead of a keyhole, there was some code device where one could press a button on a plate. Also, there was a digital display where you could probably see some login functions. There is another band on each side in the lower part around the thighs and the same style as the waist. The rivets had inscriptions but were challenging to read in the weak light.

On a closer look at Mary's equipment, I could see an inscription on the girdle on her right side. As far as I could see as the fastest "Pas Knoty." which I judged could be Polish. Could the belt be of Polish origin?

Mary's face radiated maternal security, which made my veins' blood increase the speed and the heart bump into the chest. Her beautiful, well-groomed look with its full severe lips revealed a beauty that cannot be described in words. Her white-skinned revelation smelled clean and felt like velvet as I gently touched her shimmering skin. Her eyes shone with inner harmony. She is the mother who gives life. She is the Catholic Filipino ancestress of the 21st century.

– But Mary, what have you got for something around your waist? I asked, dismayed.

– It's not me, Johan, who took it on me. It is Father Alberto Notchea, grandfather of my children, who forced me to use it. Mary replied evasively.

– For what reason can he do something like that? I asked, upset.

– He believes that, according to good Catholic practice, I must be just like the Virgin Mary. Completely spotless by carnal desires. There are different codes distributed to my relatives. One is with Father Alberto Notchea himself. Another with the unfaithful father of my beloved children. Another one is with my nearest neighbor, who regularly speaks ignorance about me to you. A further one is hidden in an unknown place in your home country. The very last is in a state that is unknown to me somewhere in Eurasia. All the codes that are here in the Philippines must be for my belt to be unlocked when I find myself in my home country, "Mary replied worryingly detailed.

As I sadly looked at Mary lying on the bed laden with the massive iron construction of the chastity belt, I was filled with a considerable yearning that turned into powerlessness. How could it turn out like this? That which has always been so easy in the past and now was the way in total closed to me. Not just the chastity belt blocked the way to the secret. Mary was also guarded and protected against intrusion by the Holy Catholic Church's chief representative, who appeared to be a spirit in the silent room. Reluctantly, I realized the hopelessness of even attempting to unlock the lock mechanism's digital display using letter and numerical combinations, for neither Alberto Notchea nor even myself would allow this to happen.

– We do like this, my beloved," I said. We leave the sacred sacristy and take us to my suite located in Marigondon with panoramic sea views and a balcony.

– Johan, Mary said, you know that I always follow you in all directions. So I look forward to entering the neutral ground as soon as we can.

Devotedly we left the sacristy and honored with a silent minute the interior with Mother Mary, Jesus on the cross, and the painting "The Last Supper" where Judas Iscariot shamed left the meal after deciding to betray Jesus Christ.

The traveling started outside the chapel and went through Marigondon Crossing, along Marigondon Road, past Kalubihan towards Marigondon beach, and exit to the left. However, before we reached the beach's final destination, we took off to the left towards Plantation Bay, where I had my luxurious suite placed for that purpose.

After passing the guard post where I gave a hundred pesos note each to the two guards, the journey went further among the small roads in the crowds of different rooms and suites, one after another with or without a swimming pool. At last, we stopped at a building, which had the apt designation, Luke 1. Mary walked out painfully from the taxi's back seat, and with my hand under her arm, we entered the interior of the room.

When we arrived at the door already opened by the hotel staff, we met a hall where it was high in ceilings and a room that was perhaps about thirty meters long. It was pretty narrow and