Post by vincentbelmont on Sept 1, 2010 17:23:11 GMT -5
Father Vincent lit the prayer candles.
A cold breeze gusted through the sanctuary, causing the tiny flames to dance about, and the weary priest cursed the building's wicked draft. When he had first taken on this post, some twenty-odd years ago, the church had been a sure, solid structure, one that had withstood generations of use. Now, though, as funds for repairs dwindled to nothing and his offering plates came back empty as often as not, it seemed that the massive stone cathedral was nearing the end of its days.
He sighed and blew out the taper with which he'd lit the candles, setting it down and bowing his head in prayer.
Lord, he silently called out, please see me through these dark times. I know they say that it is always darkest before the dawn, but it seems at times that this twilight will never lift... will never be dispelled by your loving light...
Making the sign of the cross, Vincent checked his watch: 11:37 P.M. He looked around the empty sanctuary, noting the dilapidated condition of several of the pews, and trying hard to ignore the holes and cracks that marred many of the church's beautiful stained-glass windows. The neighborhood had never been what one would call "good," or "prosperous," but the fact that it had been growing steadily worse, and more unsafe, as the years went on could not be denied.
Footsteps echoing through the chamber drew his attention back to the center aisle, and to the kindly old woman who, with the aid of her cane, hobbled forward at a stately pace. Father Vincent smiled as he moved to aid her.
"Edna, what are you doing out at this time of night," he asked her, laying a steadying hand on her arm. "Service ended hours ago. You should be at home, in bed."
The tiny, frail old woman shook her head fiercely. "No, Father, No..." Her voice was dry and cracked, reminding Vincent of autumn leaves crunched beneath walking feet. "I fear I've done a terrible thing, Father, just terrible!" She looked up at him, her eyes sharp and bright, and unclouded by any of the disabilities brought on by age, despite the fact that she was well over eighty years of age. "Please, Father, I beg you. May I please make my confession?"
Vincent's brow furrowed with worry. What could little old Edna St. Charles have done that was so terrible she felt the need to come out at this ungodly hour, through this monstrous neighborhood? Putting aside his own curiosities, the priest smiled gently at her and led her toward the confessional.
"Of course, Edna. But afterwards, please let me walk you home. It isn't safe out there, after dark."
She chuckled dryly. "Oh, Father... It isn't safe out there during the day either!"
He was forced to agree.
Once the two of them were their respective places within the confessional, Edna began.
"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been one week since my last confession."
Vincent absently nodded to himself, remembering that very confession, and how she'd been so worried about the state of her soul after she'd accidentally rented a video that contained a shot of an actor's butt lasting less than a second. He smiled. What ever had her so worried was probably something in that same vein. Before he could even speak, Edna went on, and the chill tone of her voice sent shivers down Vincent's spine.
"I killed a man, today, Father. I killed several, in fact." The voice was deep and resonant, and seemed to come from somewhere far, far away, rather than from the mouth of this tiny old woman.
"Wh... What?" Father Vincent stammered, gazing through the small window at her and wondering if, perhaps, she had finally lost her mind.
The face that gazed back through the window was contorted with glee, a frightful smile stretching Edna's lips into a terrifying look of sadistic pleasure. Her eyes were wide and crazed, and Vincent scooted away and pressed his back against the wall, scant inches further away than he had been.
"It's true, Father. Right after I took over this meat-suit, I decided to take a little stroll over here. You wouldn't believe all the young punks who thought they'd roll me over for a few bucks..." Her grin widened and she laughed, a sound that was only slightly more endurable than nails on a chalkboard. "You oughta thank me, Father. I just did my part to clean up your little garbage problem around here!"
Suddenly her hand splintered through the thin dividing wall, her bony fingers curled into claws as she took hold of the front of his shirt. With a strength that should have been impossible for a fit man, let alone a waif like Edna, the deranged woman threw him out of the confessional in a shower of wood splinters. The priest sailed through the air before striking a nearby pew, the weight of his body crashing easily through the fragile, ancient wood. He lay there in a daze, unable to think or move.
Edna burst out from the remains of the confessional and broke her cane over her knee, giving her two weapons of jagged wood, one in each gnarled hand. She advanced on Vincent, cackling all the while.
"Why Mephistopheles is so determined to get rid of you, I don't know. Can't complain, though: this is the most fun I've had in years!" With a savage growl, the old woman leaped down toward Father Vincent, seeking to impale him upon the points of her broken cane.
Seeing death coming down on him, Vincent managed to roll aside and leap to his feet, staggering backward and nearly tripping over another pew in the process. He was drenched in sweat, and more afraid than he'd ever been in his entire life. He kept on trying to make some silent prayer to God, to protect him, but each and every time he tried, his frantic, frenzied thoughts got the better of him and he found himself overcome by panic. As the old woman continued to laugh madly, the priest ran off, hoping that he could reach his room before it was too late.
"Edna!" he cried out as he ran, knocking over candle-stands and other objects as he went. "Edna, I don't know what's happening to you, but you need help! Please, calm down! I'll call 911, they'll send someone to help you!"
"What makes you think I want any help, priest!" the insane woman called out from much closer behind than Vincent was comfortable with. "Honestly, what kind of priest are you anyway, that you can't even tell a demon when it's right behind you, trying to murder you?! Or does the church still believe that 'demons' are just some sort of mental issue?" She cackled again and hurled one of her makeshift weapons at Vincent.
He looked over his shoulder just in time to see the projectile hurtling through the air toward him, and he gasped in fear as it struck the wall in front of him, vibrating as it stuck. At that moment, he was almost paralyzed with fear, but the knowledge that his room lay just ahead was enough to keep him moving. There, in the bottom drawer of his desk, he kept something that he was terribly ashamed of, but it was something that he prayed would be enough to bring Edna back to her senses.
What she said was just madness, wasn't it? She couldn't possibly be possessed, not sweet, tiny old Edna!
"Thank God," he muttered between gasping breaths as he collided with his door, almost breaking off its hinges. As he fiddled with the door knob--his shaking hands making it difficult to turn--the other half of the woman's cane stuck into the door just inches from Vincent's head, causing him to shout in terror. Finally his hands clamped down on the knob, and he burst through the door just as Edna jumped onto his back, tackling him to the floor.
"Tell me, Father? Who gives the priest his Last Rites, huh?" she taunted in that disconcerting, hollow voice. She then laughed maniacally as she sought to tear his throat out with her bony fingers, though it was harder than she'd anticipated, what with all of his infernal struggling. "Stay still, fool, and I'll end this nice and quick! Mephistopheles didn't say anything about making you suffer, after all; he just wants you dead!"
"No!" Vincent cried out, wriggling across the floor as the old woman straddled him, her claw-like hands groping for his neck.
He looked toward the desk, now only inches away. Reaching out, he yanked the bottom drawer free and pulled out the old handgun that he'd purchased years ago. The fear that some gang of thugs, or some drug-crazed nut, would break into his church had inspired him to pick it up, though he'd never actually planned on using it. The very fact that he owned it filled him with shame, and he knew that if his superiors ever caught wind of it, he'd be removed from his position in no time flat. Having the gun in hand, though, seemed to bolster his strength, and with a tremendous heave he managed to shove the deranged old woman off of him.
Staggering to his feet, Vincent backed up against the far wall, leveling the gun at Edna and trying to ignore the shaking in his hands and knees.
"Stay... Stay back, Edna, please!" he begged, using one had to wipe sweat from out of his eyes. "I mean it..."
Leaping nimbly to her feet, Edna cocked her head to one side as she gazed at the gun-toting priest. "My, my, my, would you look at that?" she mused, the ever-present grin still stretching her face into some wicked caricature of her former self.
She took a few hesitant steps forward. He pulled back the hammer.
"I mean it, Edna," he said, his voice trembling fiercely. "I... I mean it..."
Edna let loose another blood-chilling cackle as she took another step forward. "Well, if you're gonna do it, then do it Father!" she taunted. "Don't just keep on teasing a lady!" Suddenly, she leaped forward, her mouth open wide as if she intended to rip Vincent's throat out with her teeth, her fingers still bent like claws.
The report of the gun firing was deafening, but Father Vincent barely even heard it. Edna's body dropped to the ground without a sound and lay at his feet, twitching slightly, her blood pooling on the floor and soaking into the plush carpet. The bullet had struck her square in the chest, and there was no way someone as old and frail as her could have possibly survived.
The gun fell from Vincent's limp fingers, and his lips moved silently, as if he simply couldn't speak. His eyes were wide with shock, and if it hadn't been for the wall at his back, he certainly would have collapsed.
"Father... Father forgive me," he began softly, his eyes turned heavenward as tears streamed down his cheeks. "Father... forgive me for... for I have sinned..." With trembling hands, he made the sign of the cross as he began to sob.
That's when Edna stood up.
"You'r a pretty good shot for a priest, Father," she taunted, still grinning insanely. "But not good enough!"
As she wrapped her hands around his neck and sunk her teeth into his shoulder, Father Vincent screamed in horror and pain.
What else could he do?
((Tag Serena))
