The Angels Were Generous

A Child's Creation (or: Halih Steps In)

Halih woke to the sound of tears. She opened her eyes, and knew that the cries were coming from the plane of man. And so Halih closed her eyes so she could see on that plane. It was not difficult to trace the tears to their maker. There were not usually a lot of different women who cried in the night, and murmured Halih's name.

Don't misunderstand. There were many who called Halih's name. They were simply white noise in the background of her mind. Those were calls that came from what the women thought they were supposed to want. They were supposed to be mothers. They needed a child so their own mothers would finally respect them. Or their husbands. Or their neighbors. A baby would solve their problems, give them status, earn them respect. Do for them what they could not do themselves. There were only a few who truly needed to be a parent. Of those, only a few could not create a child on their own. And of those, most would reconcile themselves to their fate. So, you see, there were not many women at all who truly needed Halih, and called to her at night.

These were the women who craved a child with their very souls.It was one such wretch that called to Halih now, with a soft and muffled voice. It was the sound of a soul sobbing with need. That was a call that Halih could not ignore. She found the woman easily, and watched her sleeping. The moonlight played on the woman's face. The trail of the tears glistened with silvery brittleness, and Halih's heart melted. This is one she could help.

She extended a long, thin finger and wiped a tear as it slipped down the woman's cheek. The liquid stayed on Halih's fingertip. She turned her head a bit as she contemplated it. So much was reflected in that tiny drop, from which the child would grow. With her other hand, she reached into the woman's body. Skillfully, she plucked a string from the woman's heart, and pulled. Halih tweaked her finger, and the string broke. The woman moaned and moved in her sleep. It was good she was asleep. This would not be the first heartstring that was tugged, nor would it be the last one that would break. Let the first one be done when her body and soul were both open to it.

Working slowly, Halih wound the string around the tear. When the string was gone, Halih looked at her handiwork. She knew she had just begun. She looked again at the sleeping woman, and at the moonlight laying across her face. Halih lifted one of the moonbeams and watched it for a moment. Then she took the silver strand of living light and began to wrap the tear. Around and around and around. When the moonthread ran out, Halih plucked another from the sky and continued her work. Around and around and around. The silken threads formed a cocoon that cushioned the little package, and glowed with a life of their own. That life would fade as the life inside it fed on the cocoon, and grew.

The tear and the heartstring had already melded into what would become a child. She turned the cocoon over in her hands. Halih didn't know where the little one would exit the cocoon, when it was time for her to be born. Every thread was a story, and a part of the child's life. Yet he would have to break some of the threads in order to start his young life. The choices would be his to make, the first of his humanity. He would have to live with whichever threads he left intact.

With a satisfied sigh, Halih took the small cocoon and placed it on the mother's stomach. She held her hand over it, and felt it sink into the mother's womb. That woman had ached to her very core to have this child, and her ache would never entirely go away. Halih whispered something to the sleeping mother, and her moaning stopped.

Halih, Goddess of Creation, turned and left the room. She opened her eyes and was, once again, on her own plane, for the moment without the call of a barren woman to wake her from her sleep.

written January 2005