I am a Savior

“I would rather you remember me as your savior,” she spoke softly, looking at the small babe in the crib, “but I won’t delude myself into believing you will see that.” The woman carefully lifted the infant. The child didn’t cry. Even if they did, nobody was left to hear them. Her heart broke every time she did this, but she couldn’t allow these children to live with their parents.

She had begun stealing children two years ago, when she began to have visions, visions of the worst kind. Parents, beating their children to death, and getting away with it. She stopped them before they could get worse, or before they could start. She would know the children instinctively, despite never having laid eyes on them and she would whisk them away. She would then always know just who had been praying for a child and leave the infant there.

Nobody ever knew it was her. Nobody would ever suspect that a nun was the one stealing babies. She knew that nobody else saw her work as good, but she knew that she was doing God’s work. He had blessed His daughter with the gift to save the children, to let them know what love is. She left the house without a backward glance at the bloodstained room the parents were in.

“Don’t worry my dear,” she whispered, “no one will hurt you ever again.” She kissed the child and placed them down on the threshold and knocked on the door. She raced away into the shadows of the night away from the bloodstained child to clean herself.

****

The Next Day

Father Joseph looked at the newspaper. Another child was found dead on a threshold. This had become an almost common occurrence over the past couple years. It sickened him to think that someone could be so depraved.

Sister Margret sat in her room smiling as she read the paper. The child was now in Heaven where they would know the love of God. She awaited her next mission from God as a serpent watched, unseen from the ceiling.