Call Me By My Ancient Name

Christine stared out of the window of her stepfather’s house at the bizarre woman standing in the overgrown garden.

“Call me by my name,” the woman said. “And I shall set you free.”

“But I don’t know your name,” Christine said in her softest tone as not to wake up the household.

“Every woman knows my name.”

Christine knew this to be true. In the back of her mind, balanced on the tip of her memory’s tongue, was a word that no man alive today knew and even if they did, would not have been able to pronounce it for it was an ancient name for the weapon capable of cracking a man’s soul in half.