Dead At Birth: Switch Point

By Jimi Paige

It began with death.  

It began with a journey destined for hopelessness.

   A baby basket is left on the doorstep of a Monastery.  Inside it, is the frail body of a new-born baby girl with a bad skin condition from birth, and is left for dead.  The medical condition known as Epitheliogenesis imperfecta would lead her realise that only very difficult options existed in the life she would have to live.  A life full of pain and dejection, devoid of love, that is unless...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jimi Paige
• Release date: Mar 31, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393232124

Book preview

Five Realm Plexus (Alpha Worlds)

Alpha-1: Earth

Alpha-2: Quinas

Alpha-3: Earth-Zygo; a biform replica world

Alpha-4: Renarth

Alpha-5: Calrith

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Alpha-6 Realm Worlds

Lincarth:

Moinus:

Kilrath:

Arosep:

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Plex-Continuum

Realm of the unknown; immortal existence suspected.

I.  Earth: A world in the Five Realm Plexus.

Prologue.

It began with death. 

It began with a journey destined for hopelessness.

A baby basket is left on the doorstep of a Monastery.  Inside it, is the frail body of a new-born baby girl with a bad skin condition from birth, and is left for dead.  The medical condition known as Epitheliogenesis imperfecta would lead her realise that only very difficult options existed in the life she would have to live.  A life full of pain and dejection, devoid of love, that is unless... 

1 St Matlock the Intercessor.

Redbridge, Surrey.

Twenty years earlier.

A shadowy figure crept through the back woods of Redbridge in Surrey.

Shrubs and undergrowth provided just enough cover in the fast fading evening light of autumn.  This proved useful in concealing a conspicuous bundle of rag cloth tucked and cradled beneath a hooded top coat.  The silhouette of a small framed female gave away that much. Hood up, the figure walked along a narrow footpath, ducking in and out of the shadows. Dried leaves crunched underfoot, but quickly drowned out by the wind. Once, sudden creaking sounds of worn sprockets and brakes pierced through the howling wind.  Startled, the female turned around.  Yards behind her, a cyclist approached a short distance away down the path.  It was an elderly fella. He wobbled and strained as he pedaled, shifting from one foot to the other with each stroke up the gradient.  The female ducked away from the path as he drew closer, and concealed her face further as he rode past.

She stepped back onto the path, and watched as the cyclist's back view faded away ahead of her as she walked.  At the top of the path, he veered right and out of view.

In the distance where the footpath ended, a black wrought Iron gate came into view.  A large metal framed sign hung overhead by an archway entrance gate.  It squeaked at the hinges, as it swung to and fro.  The female glanced upwards to read the gold lettering engraved on to a black metal plate.  In front of her, large concrete flagstones laid a path to a main entrance door, past a grass lawn courtyard.  The lighting was dim in the courtyard, as a lamp post by the door cast a dull ray of light near the Oak front door.

A gargling sound came from the bundle she carried.  She looked down at it, and rocked it gently in her arms to keep it quiet.  It wriggled restlessly.

Shssh! she said softly, as she rocked the bundle some more. But the gargling continued, weaker with each breath.

A small hand reached out from inside the bundle of blanket, and dangled. Quickly, the female tucked it back in, and pulled the blanket closer.  She stepped into the courtyard, her eyes darted about in all direction as she dashed for the front door.

2 At the Lord’s feet.

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Gargling sounds continued, more persistently, like strained cry from ailing lungs.

The female parted a blanket wrap to expose a small head.  Delicately, she peeled away a strap of bandage which covered a small pair of deformed nostrils.  She watched as mucus bubbled with each labored breath.

She wiped wetness from her face with her sleeve.

It's okay, if I can't look after you, she whispered in between sobs, her eyes stayed on a wooden crucifix nailed to the front door, Maybe God's servants here will be able to.

She cradled the bundle closer as she stared at the writhing baby for a moment.  Its closed eyelids twitched uncontrollably. A fresh flow of tears trickled down her cheeks as she struggled to suppress her sobs.  

A streak of lightening in the dark sky above startled her.  Hastily she closed the blanket cloth around the baby, and placed it on the wet floor by the front door.  She reached for a loose brick nearby, and hit the thick Oak door several times.

Upstairs, a light bulb came on in one of the front bedrooms.  That was enough sign someone had heard her knocking.

Young Bernice Desmond was the first to hear the knock as it echoed around the entrance hallway, amplified by the cove acoustics of the building.  She'd been in her bedroom upstairs above the front door, cowered in a corner of her bed.  She flicked on her bedside switch, and crawled out of bed.  She parted the curtains, and peered through the window at the front entrance area below.  A girl wearing a hooded coat looked up at her.  They stared at each other for a moment, but the lady’s face was partially hidden behind her hood.

Bernice signaled with a wave at the lady, and mouthed to her to wait by the door.

She’d been told not to open the front door by the older Nuns in residence, but she'd always been a restless youngling.  Regardless, Bernice headed for the front door, and opened it in time to catch a fleeting glimpse of the mysterious hooded girl as she walked briskly towards the main gate.

Hello! Excuse me lady! Bernice called out to the fleeing girl.  Not getting a response, Bernice watched the girl exit the main gate to the Monastery, and disappeared into the night darkness.

She shrugged, and was about to close the door, when her eyes caught sight of a wrapped up bundle on the floor.

She bent low, and inspected it curiously.  Rain drops pattered around her as she unwrapped the top section of the bundle.  Shocked at the sight, she froze.  Just then, Sister Clara appeared behind her.

I thought I'd warned you about opening the front door without a grown up with you!?

Bernice remained motionless.

Sister Clara caught sight of the open bundle.  Eyes widened, she gasped, Oh my God!

Hastily she eased Bernice by the shoulder back inside, and collected the baby from the wet ground.

Get inside child, and don't come outside. she said.

Sweet Lord Jesus, who could have left a helpless baby like this!

3 Baby Shade-Autumn Matlock.

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The Intercessor Order was founded in 1960 in England by St Patrick Matlock the Intercessor.  Church records show that he was a steadfast prayer Intercessor for Angelo Giuseppe Roncalli, Pope John XXIII.  Much of his prayer work was unbeknown to his Holiness, until the passing of Reverend Patrick Matlock, for that was how he wanted his ministry to be recognized.  Once, he’d been heard saying that, the good deeds done in the secret closet may not be rewarded here on Earth, but God Almighty sees and knows all things, and He alone rewards.

To date the order has ordained over one hundred Nuns called intercessor canonesses.  They are not all resident at the Monastery in Redbridge, most have been assigned to various missions abroad to act as Intercessors for matters of prayers and spiritual support for parishes.

St Matlock’s Monastery occupied ten acres of land overlooking Redbridge Hill area in the county of Surrey.  Ten years after its establishment, the Order received its blessings of establishment from the Vatican, and Bishop R R Manthorpe, a devout prayer Intercessor to Giovanni Montini, the Pope Paul VI.

The Monastery was part sponsored by St Phillips Abbey in London. Once a month, a Canon from St Phillips abbey travelled in from London to the Monastery to give Mass and offer spiritual counseling.

Presently, the Monastery is led by Mother Evelyn Bernard, a gentle kind hearted sixty one year old Nun, who hailed originally from Yorkshire, in the northern region of England.

A typical day began