This is something I started writing the beginning of this semester. The woman in the story is the Church, the man is Jesus. The unborn baby represents the generations to come. Read it from that viewpoint...
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The young woman stared at him angrily, with blue eyes that could have scorched a cornfield. He was taken back by her hostility, distrust yes, but not this.
He took a step farther back, kneeling on one knee, as she curled into a tighter protective ball around her swollen belly.
"I promise I won't hurt you, or the baby," he told her softly.
She began crying again, obviously unable to believe his kindness or so overcome by it she couldn't speak. He waited patiently, until her eyes turned towards his again. They were still hostile, but not quite has distrustful as before.
"What happened?" he asked, continuing to be patient.
She slowly sat up, painfully, as if every bone in her body was aching. Bruises covered her cheekbones, and a huge cut marred the right side of her neck. With great effort she began to speak.
" I have no mother, I have no father. The child I bear is not even my husband's. I have no husband. I have no home. I have nothing to call my own. Everything I have has been given to me or taken away by others. Why do you even care to ask me? Can you not see what I am?"
The young man's heart was torn by the despair and absolute finality he felt in her voice. What was even worse was the belief he heard in her words.
Suddenly she doubled over, throwing up all over the ground between them. His first reaction would have been one of disgust, but immediately his vision blurred in a cloud of color. Handwritten words the color of blood on an ancient pages burst before his eyes.
He blinked, trying to see, but they would not leave until he read them.
You will love me.
You will love what I love. Hate what I hate. Speak what I speak. Sing what I sing.
You will love my bride.
As soon as he finished reading the last line, the words and colors vanished and he was staring at the young woman once more.
The young man felt his heart melt. He wanted to bury his head in the dust and beg this woman's forgiveness for all the injustice that had been done to her, for all the lies, bitterness and hatred that had been brought against her with the fierceness of a thousand vengeful dragons. If he could bleed, cry and scream for her, he would.
Instead he bent closer once more," I know you have no reason to trust me, but what if I was your only hope? I cannot be worse than what you have known. What if I have the answer? Can you be willing to risk that?"
She blinked, staring wide-eyed without expression, yet the mistrust had faded from her gaze.
"It may take a while, I know," he continued," but I must tell you that this is not who you are."
"Who are you to tell me such a thing?" she told him, voice sharp and cynical," You don't know me."
Now it was his turn to blink," I know more about you than you may think."
She did not seem to like this answer.
He continued talking ignoring her conflicting attitude.
"This baby your carrying for example. She is not a curse, but a blessing. Do not give birth with heart that only feels derision and frustration at her conception. She is life. In that you must find hope and destiny."
The woman stared at him like he had absolutely lost his mind.
"How do you know it's a girl?"
He shrugged, and held out his hand," Are you going to stand up or not?"
She very slowly reached and slipped her hand into his. He pulled her up, steadying her unstable legs and then slowly turning her towards the river.
"I think you need to drink from the water, before we go anywhere."
She began trembling, and turned her face, against him as if the river had eyes that haunted her.
"What's wrong?" he lifted her face, to see her eyes.
"I don't want to go there."
"Why not?"
"The more I drink, the more thirsty I get. I hate being thirsty."
He stared at her, bewildered.
"With that kind of attitude, you will always be thirsty. You must drink if you will ever find satisfaction."
She glared at him," You don't think I've tried. It's hopeless."
He let go of her hand," How far did you go?"
She blinked," What do you mean?"
He repeated the question.
She shook her head, beginning to cry," It hurt too much."
He gently pushed her ahead of him," I'll go with you. We'll drink together."
She didn't want to go. But with him pushing her, giving her no choice, the young woman slowly walked forward.
They reached the water's edge. She stared down at it like the water's held a nest of poisonous snakes.
He took her hand and knelt first, drawing her after him. He cupped on hand into the cool wetness and brought it to his lips.
"You try," he released her hand, letting it be her choice.
If a shark had just jumped out of the water at her, she could not have looked more frightened. Very slowly she stretched out shaky fingers towards the water. Her gaze shot to him, seeking courage.
" You can do it," he encouraged.
Trembling, she plunged her hand into the water and brought it dripping to her sunburned lips. She swallowed it with a groan, and dropped her hand into the water for more.
"Go as slow as you need to," he told her.
She only leaned closer to the water in response. In fact she began to drink greedily. He reached a hand out to steady her from falling into the river.
Then suddenly she sat back, face wet, glistening, but suddenly beautiful, calm and peaceful. Cuts and bruises had disappeared.
"Where does the water come from?" she asked in a whisper.
He chuckled, rocking back on his heels beside her.
"Do you want to find out?"
She nodded, he stood, giving her his hand. She awkwardly held her belly and rose, leaning against him.
"Then follow me..."
