by Chris Ord
The priest paused, the long carving knife still pressed against the remainder of the flesh.
‘It’s been a challenge. Each day we seek forgiveness for their sins through prayer. Each day we study the word of God, and the teachings of his son Jesus. Each day their hearts grow strong again. But each of them has a long road ahead before they find peace and salvation. We all do, it’s the journey we have to make. It’s through that journey that we learn the truth.’
Ridley sat back in his seat, and gazed at the feast before them. He opened his arms and looked up at his guests.
‘I know you think you don’t have God in your hearts, but may I ask that we put our hands together in prayer and thank the good Lord for the food he’s given us.’
Ridley waited. Aran and Gaia looked at each other, both hesitant and unsure. Sensing their confusion, the priest pressed the palm of his hands together. Aran and Gaia copied him. Aran glared at Freya who did the same. All four paused for a moment, the warm, red glow of the candlelight flickering in their eyes. The priest closed his eyes, Aran and Gaia likewise. Freya did not. She stared across at Ridley as he bowed his head, her face burning with simmering rage. There was a look of peace and tranquility spread across the old man’s face, the same look as the man on the cross. It was a knowing calm, as if nothing could hurt him, despite all the pain. The priest spoke in a hushed voice, not quite a whisper.
‘Dear Lord, we thank you for the gifts of your bounty which we enjoy at this table. Gifts you have provided for us in the past and our times of need. We thank you for our guests and wish them a safe passage as they continue their journey. While we enjoy your great gifts we spare a thought for their friend who sadly is not here to savour your grace. But we know you will take care of him in your great kingdom. Thank you Lord. Amen.’
Ridley opened his eyes and lowered his hands. Freya was still glaring at him. She too placed her hands on the table. Aran and Gaia remained still, their eyes closed, hands clasped in front of them in prayer. Freya kicked Aran under the table as the priest spoke.
‘We’ve finished. You can open your eyes again now. Thank you.’
Gaia looked at the food spread before them, a banquet she had not seen the likes of before. Aran kept the conversation ticking over, keen to placate their host and make up for Freya’s rudeness.
‘Thank you for this. It looks delicious. You clearly enjoy your food.’
‘What pleasures are there left in this world? It is the simplest of things to enjoy God’s gifts. We seem to have forgotten all that is still to enjoy.’
They helped themselves to the food, as Ridley poured each a generous glass of red wine. The priest passed around the gravy insisting they poured ample. The old man raised his glass.
‘Please join me. The wine has been blessed. Now let us drink.’
The priest took a long drink, watching the others as they followed. They ate, the food was good, grown by the old man and girls in a plot of land at the rear of the church. The bird was a chicken, procured from the village nearby. Many local people would meet there. It was a trading point where you could pick up basic items, and trade for food. The priest was resourceful, the cupboards seldom bare and the table always blessed with the finer things that remained.
The initial conversation was warm and jovial, with Ridley pleased to have guests. It was a rare event and he wanted to make the most of it. Aran and Gaia enjoyed the company, and the chance to eat in comfort. Freya was polite, but Gaia could sense her tension. Gaia was troubled by the bruises on Rebecca’s wrists, but for now put it to the back of her mind, determined to enjoy the meal.
Soon the conversation turned to their past, of the island and the escape. The priest sat and listened as Gaia and Aran filled in the details, Freya offering the occasional nod and grunt. Everyone but Freya was chatty, but even Aran and Gaia were still guarded. They only gave the old man enough information. Freya continued to eye Ridley, and Gaia could see she was weighing him up. Freya’s mistrust was plain to see, and after a few more grunts Freya spoke.
‘What about you Father Ridley? You said you’ve had experience of the community. Tell us more.’
Ridley laid down his knife and fork, and took a sip of wine. He leant on his elbows and played with his lips. The others waited, unsure of whether he would respond. Freya had hit a nerve, poked at something uncomfortable, as had been her intention. After another longer drink of wine the priest spoke.
‘The community is a godless world. They fear everything, even each other. Myself and others like me tried to make them see that only through God’s word and love could the world move forward. We had an opportunity to make amends. The old world lost its way, became blinded by science and money. They lusted after greed and progress. They walked in the wilderness and took the hand of Satan, and look where it led us. They abandoned God and he punished us. But some of us survived. This was God giving us another chance, as he had done before. It was a chance for us all to be born again. The community could’ve taken that chance and embraced God and Jesus, but they feared and condemned them. The community feared the truth. So they banished us, persecuted us. I got out, escaped, just like you. Before they could punish me. Some of the others were not so fortunate.’
The priest paused and filled his glass, taking another long drink. His hand was shaking, as he placed the glass down on the table and stared at Freya.
‘There are those in this world who cannot find love within their hearts. But without love the world is full of hate. The community is filled with that hatred, it breeds it. There are many I see who carry that hatred within them. Cast it out. Whatever you’re looking for find God’s love. If you don’t you’ll also walk in the wilderness. But you must look for it. If you try to find God he will find you.’
Freya stared back at the priest, playing with her food. Their eyes were locked, neither wanting to break free or look away, not even a blink. Freya picked up a knife and began to spin it in her hand. She spoke, her voice calm, but with an ominous almost threatening tone.
‘We’ve been through a lot. More than you will know. My head is spinning with those older and wiser than me telling me what’s right and wrong, and what I should and shouldn’t do. Maybe you’re right. Maybe this god you have found has the answers, but I’d like the chance to find those answers for myself. We all do. That’s why we left.’
Freya kept spinning the knife on the palm of her hand, twisting and twirling it between her fingers. She continued.
‘All my life I’ve been told what to think, what to feel, and what to do. I guess what I’m saying is those days have gone. Now I make my own decisions. I’ll make some bad ones, but they’ll be my mistakes, no one else’s. I’m no longer living my life for others.’
Freya stabbed the knife into a piece of chicken. There was an uncomfortable silence. Aran and Gaia looked on, each wanting to step in, but neither sure how to respond. They agreed with Freya and the Father needed to know that. The young had been let down by those that went before. The future was meant to be for them, yet still the leaders controlled them. The elders did not want to let go. The priest shuffled in the chair, his stare had softened, eyes drifting around the room. Freya knew she had rattled the old man, and decided to move onto another topic that intrigued her.
‘This Jesus you talk about. He was the son of this God you say. I’m curious about this.’
Ridley sat up, surprised, a look of pleasure lit up his face. There was a moment of joy that Freya had taken an interest, and the priest was keen to enlighten his guests. The old man stood and moved to the wall, leaning beside one of the numerous crucifixes. He surveyed them all and pointed to the figure of the man hanging from the cross. The priest puffed up his chest, brimming with a sense of pride and adopted his sermon persona.
‘This is Jesus Christ, the son of God. He was sent to us by his father to show us all a new way, because God saw the world had become lost and was full of sin. Jesus was crucified by the Romans, and betrayed by the sons of Israel, his
own people. Jesus died for all our sins, but was resurrected and ascended to his father. He died and was resurrected to save us. God did this to save us, to show us the measure of his love and remind us of his word. My faith in the resurrection is what makes me who I am. God has shown himself to me and I know this faith to be true.’
Freya frowned and continued to press.
‘When did all this happen?’
‘It was over 2,000 years ago, in Palestine, a place many miles from here. It’s all written down and documented in the Bible. That is the word of God.’
The priest moved to a bookcase, took three copies of the red book and passed them around.
‘Open the book. Look at the sections written by Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. They all capture the life and words of Jesus. They’re words of love and compassion.’
Freya and Aran opened up the red books and began to thumb through the pages. Gaia continued to eat her food. She had seen the words of the book earlier, and had no desire to read more. Freya stopped at a page, a smile on her face.
‘Here’s an interesting one. It’s Matthew ten, twenty one. It says, ‘And the brother shall deliver the brother up to death, and the father the child: and the children shall rise up against the parents, and cause them to be put to death.‘ I must admit I like that.’
Ridley looked uncomfortable, trying to respond but Freya continued before the priest could answer.
‘Oh and look at this other passage further down the page, ten, thirty four ‘Think not that I come to send peace on earth: I came not to send peace, but a sword.’ Now that’s what I like to hear. Maybe he’s not so bad after all this Jesus.’
The priest interrupted, hearing enough.
‘Those words are out of context. Jesus was love, and spoke of the importance of love. Look in John chapter thirteen, verse thirty four. Jesus says, ‘A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you are also to love one another.’
Freya twisted her face, a mocking look of confusion. Her voice was filled with sarcasm.
‘I’m confused. Which of those do I believe? They seem a bit contradictory to me.’
The priest continued his defence.
‘The testaments are complex, and contain contradictions. They have to be seen in their historical context. They must be studied. Some of the words and sentiments must be seen as of their time. But read the words, study them, and you will see they are words filled with love.’
Freya laughed and shook her head.
‘What about the historical context we’re in now. This godless world you describe, maybe we need sentiments that are right for now. How is your God’s love going to save us?’
‘Leave it Freya! Father Ridley has welcomed us, cooked for us, provided us with shelter. The least we can do is treat him with respect. I think you owe him an apology.’
Aran had heard enough. He knew Freya. There was no real interest in this other than attacking the priest. Freya believed in nothing. Aran’s voice was stern and abrupt, reflecting his anger. Freya looked shocked, but tried to defend herself.
‘Look I was just…’
‘Apologise!’
Freya and Aran’s eyes locked, as Freya fumed at her humiliation. The priest said nothing, wallowing in satisfaction, waiting for the apology to come. Ridley looked at Freya with a smug, expectant expression, while Freya took her time. She continued to glare at Aran, unwilling to look away, knowing there was no choice. Whatever Freya thought of the priest, whatever his views, Aran was right, at least for now. The priest would be found out soon.
Freya heard the words of the priest and his God, but only heard the words of man. Ridley’s faith in these words had been given credence and value through centuries of blind indoctrination. Freya and the others had been spared this, but had been fed a different kind, one Freya and the other young people may never overcome. They were all controlled by a different tyranny, but Freya would walk alone. She would find her own path, her own truth. No-one would tell Freya what to do ever again, especially not an old man in a strange suit and white tie worshipping stories thousands of years old. Freya took a deep breath and uttered the words the others had been waiting for.
‘I’m sorry. Forgive me.’
The priest nodded his head, a smug look still spread over his face. The old man basked in his glory, the hollow victory. It would be short-lived.
‘Of course I forgive you my child. Let’s say no more about it.’
They continued to eat, and after a period of silence the conversation turned to other topics - their plans, and what they hoped to find. Ridley was quiet and coy on the subject of the community in the hills. Gaia felt sure he would know of it, heard rumours in discussions with others at the nearby village. Gaia sensed the priest knew more, but would not share it. Gaia finished her food and asked to be excused.
‘Is there a toilet I could use?’
‘Of course. It’s just through the kitchen. There’s a passage at the back. It’s the room at the very end.’
Gaia rose and made her way through the kitchen which had already been cleaned, the cooking pots washed and draining by the sink. The inviting smell of the meal still dominated the room. Gaia’s hunger was satisfied and she was as full as she had ever been. She made her way through a door and along a narrow passage. The floor was covered in tattered carpet with a garish floral pattern. The walls had candlesticks mounted along them, an assortment of different sized candles lit her way.
As Gaia neared the doorway at the end of the passage, she heard a noise from the room to the left. The door was ajar. Gaia stopped and leaned towards the crack of the open door. She could hear something. It was faint, but Gaia focused on the sound. It was the soft whisper of a girl’s voice in repetitive chanting. The words were monotonous and lifeless. Gaia leant against the door, edging it open, pushing her head through the gap.
The room was bare with only an iron framed bed against the wall, the floor exposed wooden boards. On the wall was a mounted candleholder with a solitary candle casting a dingy light around the room. On the other wall above the bed was the man on the cross again, Jesus light and saviour. On the bed sat Rebecca, reading the red book and chanting. Her voice was faint, almost inaudible. Then Gaia noticed the full horror.
At the top of the bed attached to the iron frame were a set of handcuffs. The bed sheets, filthy and torn were also stained in dark red. Rebecca did not look up. She just sat at the bottom of the bed, chanting the bland, hypnotic words. Gaia stepped back, and pulled the door to a little, pausing to contemplate what she had seen. She felt strange, a touch dizzy and queasy. Images began to flash in Gaia’s mind, distorted visions invading.
Gaia made it to the toilet and struggled back to the main room, her mind a flurry of dark images, some clear and lucid. Gaia was aware of everything that was happening, but some of her mind was fighting her. This part was full of the crazed, dancing visions darting and dashing. Gaia’s lucid mind was trying to suppress these wild thoughts, cast them out, control them, but she could not. Gaia sat, her mind bombarded with the building chaos. There were voices, words. They were heated and animated, but familiar. It was Ridley and Freya fighting again. This time more aggressive. Gaia looked across at Aran, his face was clear, but his head was tossing and turning, lit up with a delirious smile. Aran’s face became distorted with large, bulbous eyes. He was giggling like a giant, hideous child bearing down on her.
Gaia looked at the priest, his face twisted and filled with rage. He was standing and pointing at Freya. The old man’s finger morphed into a long metal sword and his face melted. Gaia saw a demon with sharp, pointed teeth and salivating jaws, the teeth of the rats. Ridley’s eyes burned blood red and his head grew two pointed and twisted horns. The priest began to laugh, a loud and uncontrollable cackle. It was chilling, the sound ripping though Gaia’s body like a cold knife.
Gaia could feel herself trembling. The clear part of her mind was speaking to her, reassuring her, telling her this wa
s all a dark nightmare. The voice stopped, paused amid all the chaos that reigned inside, the demon face, the blood curdling laughter. Gaia began to panic. What if it would always be this way? What if she never woke up? What if the rest of her life was this endless struggle between clarity and chaos? What if this was all she would know? Gaia was staring at madness, what it meant to be insane, clarity and control versus chaos. A surge of panic rushed through Gaia’s body, her mind now in overdrive, drowning in the frenzy of images. One by one the visions flashed through her head, dark, disturbing, delirious and delightful. Layer upon layer of twisted thoughts, simultaneously, merging into one, a collage of chaos. Then there was darkness.
17
Gaia opened her eyes. Freya was standing over her. Gaia was in one of the armchairs, head hazy, still with faint echoes of the madness from the night before. Images drifted in and out of Gaia’s mind, but less intense, like clouds rumbling in the distance after a huge lightning storm. The skies were clear and blue now. There was control again, confused control. Freya reached out and touched Gaia, whispered.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘I still feel a bit strange. What happened?’
‘Ridley drugged us. It was probably in the wine, a hallucinogen, probably from wild mushrooms. They grow all over this place and there’s loads this time of year on damp mornings. I bet you had some crazy dreams.’
Gaia thought back to the night before, the cacophony of images flashed through her mind. At first the memories were patchy, just flickers, but became more vivid, almost real. The demonic face appeared, the horns and snarling teeth. There was the same surge of panic as the fear returned. Gaia was staring into the abyss again, standing on a precipice, about to plunge into a dark, spiralling black hole of madness. She was in the crazed world, her lucid mind locked in battle with wild, anarchic thoughts. Gaia shook her head, tried to rid herself of the haze.
