The Blue Door

1191 A.D.

Did she really fall off the stupid horse? It felt like she had fallen off a rooftop.  Slowly, she got up off the ground.  It wasn’t the ground she was riding across a while ago. Something was different; the whole area was different. Thick trees, and lush grass surrounded her and it was dead quiet. 

“No. It couldn’t be…” She whispered to herself, as she slowly got up and brushed the grass and pine needles off her clothing.  She then remembered.  She had left the door open… and it was a full moon.  She spotted the warhorse a few yards over, happily grazing. She whistled to him and he came trotting up to her.

“Well boy, where ever we are; we best go find someone who can find your master.” She said as she climbed up on him. She definitely wasn’t anywhere near home. Where, she did not know exactly yet. To her fascination, some how the stupid blue door still worked even with her just in her backyard. It bewildered her.

She found a path and diligently kept to it, yet the more they rode down it, the longer it seemed to go. Animals seemed to hop or leap out of nowhere as the trotted along. Her steed wasn’t even bothered. They came to a crossing in the road. There was a sign, she couldn’t read it. It was in a language very not familiar to her, she decided to go to the right, as the path looked more traveled that direction. Perhaps there was a town or something up above. She only hoped.

They rounded a bend in the road and she came upon a familiar sight.  A church. The church looked like the one in the village that she lived in or just moved to. But something about the little church was vaguely different. It was actually busy and it seemed a bit more new, or in much better keep. She rode the horse up to what looked like a hitching post and jumped off. She felt bad tying him by the reins, but that was all she had. She had always been told that was a no no in the back home in California… but she had nothing else to secure the horse with.  She hope he minded his manners. There were a few people tending the church garden, they all seemed to stop and do what they were doing once they saw her making her way towards the church. As she walked she studied their clothes and quiet quickly realized, this was not home, or time, or even close.  Most definitely the Middle Ages, actually quite early Middle Ages by looking at the gardeners clothes. There was nothing elaborate about their modest outfits and they actually seemed to look at her in fear. A thought raced across her mind, she soon dismissed it and kept walking to the big large wooden doors.

She pushed open the doors, they were quiet heavy.  To her surprise there was a group of nun’s praying at the front of the church. She stopped in her footsteps in astonishment. One of the nuns stood up. Her clothing was a bit more regal than the rest. She spun around and dropped her rosary.

“His Holiness, what have you brought to our church?” She looked Clarise up and down and gasped.

“A witch…” She gasped as she held her hand over her mouth in shock.

Clarise didn’t know what to say or do. She stood frozen in the isle. Just what she needed… to be called a witch and all she did was walk in to a church. But in modern clothing. This was going to be interesting.

The head mistress or prioress swiftly grabbed Clarise by the arm and started to haul her out of the small church. Her grip was tight.

“Please, I am looking for someone…I am not a witch.” she said in slight panic, pleading with her accuser.