Subside
A soul hangs in the
balance!
The
only one of his kind, Deacon recalls thousands of years existing yet he has no
memory of why. He can’t profess to living in seclusion because he greedily pursues
pleasure in arms of so many men, he never lacks companionship. All those arms,
lips, and asses, none feed his true desire. Deacon yearns for someone to make in
his own image by introducing them to a hunger so vile, they will detest him
forever.
Father
Merck Hallowell stands at a crossroad of conscience and
faith. His convictions, no longer satisfying, leave him searching for reasons
to persevere. Befriending a handsome but strange parishioner opens a doorway Merck
longs to enter and explore. Discovering Deacon’s secret, he realizes not only his
life hangs in balance—so does his soul!
ReligErotica
Excerpt:
“Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has
been seven hundred and thirty years since my last confession.”
“I’m sorry, my son, I believe I misunderstood.”
“You didn’t.”
Silence stretched out for almost a minute.
“This is not something to trifle with.”
“Father, if I wanted to play with anyone or
anything, I wouldn’t be wasting my time here.”
“Stop, just stop.” Breathing escalated.
“There are people starving and sleeping in the streets. They truly want help.”
“No, they don’t. They desire a full belly and
a warm bed. Nothing more.”
His duty was to remain in the confessional
and help the man who had issues but Merck doubted they were with the church.
After his explosion against Father Sharpe, it hadn’t gone unnoticed by Merck
that all but one very well-dressed young man quickly exited the cathedral. The
way he stood and fussed with his clothing garnered Merck’s attention. “Do the
words pride before the fall mean anything to you?”
“You did notice. Good. One should endeavor to
always appear at their best even before their dream is truly achieved. Demonstrating
pride upon accomplishing the feat is no sin.”
“Ahh, your philosophy is one must look the
part of success. Might I assume you’ve obtained your dream?”
“I have yet to attain my dream. Nevertheless,
I do take pride in myself and am quite happy with turning out more magnificently
every time I set foot outside my home.”
He recalled short, severely styled dark hair.
Before allocating wealth to benefit his struggling parish, Merck recollected
dressing fashionably and, therefore, he didn’t miss the fact the man’s outfit
reeked of money. Almost as tall as Merck and extremely good looking with a
powerful build, the man wouldn’t go unnoticed anywhere.
His eyes were pale though Merck, if pressed,
couldn’t say they were green or blue but he’d be able to recite that he had
skin the color of soft, burnished gold. “I believe you’re more interested in
yourself than comfort I or the church might offer.”
“God, yes, I am.” Soft laughter emanated
through the screen. “And before you talk about using his name in vain, remember
your outburst minutes ago.”
Touché. Merck didn’t have
time for this but neither did he want to leave and, for the life of him, he
couldn’t say why. Actually, he could. Audacity, impudence, and disdain sitting on the other side of the screen
reflected much of what he felt himself nowadays. If only he could express it.
“I promise, Father, I’ll listen another time.
By the way, my eyes are blue when I’m not hungry. Yours, I’d describe as warm
cognac with a chaser of sadness.”
“How did you know I…”
“You must see to your parishioners.”
The curtain swished on the other side of the
confessional but Merck heard only one or two footfalls. Rising, he stepped out
the door and stared into eyes that seared his soul. The man had said blue yet
what he looked into flared red with hellfire. “God in Heaven!” Grabbing the
edge of the door with his right hand to steady himself, Merck felt a splinter
rip through his thumb. “Ow!”
The stranger reached for his hand and tugged
it to his mouth. Merck should stop him but before he could soft, cool lips
covered the appendage. As he sucked, pain diminished immediately. He
practically felt skin knit together. Releasing Merck, he asked, “Better?”
He glanced down and couldn’t find any sign of
having been injured. Peering back in the man’s eyes, he saw they were, indeed,
blue. “Your kind is not welcome here.”
“My kind?
So that you’re not guessing, let me clarify for you. Tonight, before arriving
here, I took life sustaining substance from an unsuspecting human. The idea of
talking with you rushed me so no one succumbed to death at my hands.” He stared
at Merck. “I still thirst.”
“Leave this holy place now and never return!”
“Then how shall we continue our conversation?
I expected we’d have many talks.”
“I don’t know what you are but I pray He sees to your destruction.”
“Prayer never worked before but I hear
miracles do exist.” He bowed deeply. “My name is Deacon and I’m at your service
Father Hallowell.” He pivoted and slowly walked down the aisle but before
disappearing into the vestibule, he looked over his shoulder and said, “We
shall meet again.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
What with the woman sitting in front of him
smelling of fresh blood, and Merck’s injured thumb, Deacon longed to find
someone to slake his thirst. Having now had a small taste of Father Hallowell’s
blood, he could find him anywhere and ascertained quickly that he would come
upon him again tonight if patient. Merck had already taken to the streets
looking to provide some measure of comfort to his flock. His mind slipped
occasionally to Deacon but he kept moving as if activity would erase what
transpired.
“He didn’t fear me.” Deacon felt no surprise
at that as he often tagged behind him into west Philly’s most dangerous areas.
He’d watched Merck talk criminals down yet had never witnessed him hit one even
as he wrestled a few to the ground when necessary and stripped them of weapons.
Fearless. It was as if he sought
death at someone’s hands.
“No,”
Deacon whispered. “You’re mine now.”
Life is complicated, it’s loud, death
arrives silently. – J. Hali Steele (from Twice the Burn)
No comments:
Post a Comment