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The Church, finally!
It was a belated reunion with the sacred grounds of that very sanctuary; people of London are the sinful frequenters of the hallows, and the pious leavers of its premises!
The sinners on that day, however, were sparse, mostly the senile and the helpless, all seeking an appeal for forgiveness before they breathe their last.
A dire golden crucifix centered the stage upon which a modest podium rested, behind which stood a bishop in his late forties in full priest attire and a perfectly shaved face with a close-cropped hair.
He prodded loudly as he implored the God Almighty to shed his blessings and certainty upon the wearied souls including his own, for no man is fortified from sins … and no life is worth living without sinning! The latter statement was my own addition!
The bishop’s carefully prepared and charismatically warbled speech was over, and seldom did I grasp what he recited or even lend him my attention at all.
My chief concentration was squandered on the mural works and the art-embellished domes … The lands of the lord need to be fashioned in a way that soothes his men!
Soon, the visitors of the church went over to the bishop, and those who could hardly move were brought to his vicinity as he kindly approached them to listen to their doubts and heal their tired spirits, convincing them to accept a higher status of life guaranteed in the hereafter, and that in death they should bear no fear, but conversely, they are expected to sanctify such bleakness!
I was seated on a distant bench, away from the sparse crowd, unwilling to be brought to a proximity of the clergy yonder, until he was done with the short session of preaching in person with each and every one, and then I was the center of his attention and the focus of his divine scoop.
- “You reek of doubt and confusion, son” He called, wearing a gentle smile, and striding forth approaching me until he was seated one bench away from my position.
- “Should we not be doing this in the confession booth?!” I wondered
- “I would have implored you to do so if they were not closed for restoration”
- “The sacred grounds of the lord deserve nothing less!” I teased him
- “Certainly, son” he kept his temper controlled then proceeded to question me: “How may I help you? Why are you here?”
- “Remorse” I replied
- “Remorse only adheres to the pious and the solid believers as you”
- “I am neither a believer nor a disbeliever”
- “Doubt is but the first tier of belief and the very ingrain of full certainty”
- “But does the merciful being have to be confronted by the ruthless pain of remorse for an act of benevolence which he committed?”
- “Can you elaborate a bit, son? In what way do you deem your acts remorse-worthy?”
- “As a matter of fact, father, the very deeds of valor that I commit are deemed sins by the lot of you”
He remained silent, conveying his confounded attitude and keeping himself from expressing his suspicions, so I was urged to extend the conversation:
- “Oh, father, I’m a sinner in the eyes of God, and pious in my own jurisdiction”
- “The eternal clash of one’s jurisdiction against God’s will is devilish” he commented, investing considerable energy in concealing his alarmed demeanor, repositioning himself to a flight-ready pose.
- “And how do you know about that?”
- “About what?!” he exclaimed
I refrained for a while, I was called by the luster of the dire crucifix; I was being introduced to a state of delirium, fantasizing about the crucifix melting into a golden pond…
- “Would my confession be of any value, father?”
- “It helps ease the remorse, and brings you closer to divinity”
- “Are you divine?”
He was taken aback, severely confounded, and hardly gathered words to speak something intelligible:
- “Divinity is the utmost goal”
- “How absurd!”
- “What exactly is absurd?” he wondered as he developed a sheer grimace
- “Men of God … You”
- “Your speech, son, is of a subversive nature, I can see” he disclosed his contempt
- “If you were to choose between the parochialism of belief and the liberty of doubt, what would you favor?”
- “All liberty is sham if not tethered to a belief! Do you never be fooled by the phony vastness of doubt; it’s only when you are limited by the boundaries of righteousness that you are led to the liberty of relief; doubt, however, keeps you wandering purposelessly”
- “You speak of doubt as if it is subject to personal choice”
- “You were the one who proposed the notion of favoring either doubt or belief in the first place; if you are inclined to doubt, what brings you to the grounds of certainty?”
- “Hell! There is no bloody certainty in here”
- “I suppose you are prejudiced as much as you are distraught”
- “And so are you, father!” I claimed then solidified my stance: “What makes you a man of God?”
- “The need to serve his purpose, and the willingness to instill clairvoyance into the hearts of those who doubt, to help them, to guide them to his path” he explained in a rather loud tone, highlighted by his anger although slightly manifested.
- “And do you sin, father?”
- “I aspire to cut down my sins, and I confess whenever I am overwhelmed with the awe of corruption, and so you have to do … you need to confess, son, to lay down the burden you heave”
- “But who grants forgiveness to him who confesses, God … or you?”
- “I help you seek his forgiveness in a proper manner”
- “And how do I know that God has forgiven me?” I asked
He smiled thoughtfully and battled his anger, while I resumed:
- “You grant those wearied beings the illusion of God’s mercy … That is what you are paid to do”
- “You know that is not true”
- “No, I do not!” I then added “Tell me, how do I ensure that God’s mercy and forgiveness befall me?”
- “These blessings are only attained through nurturing remorse! Remorse rectifies a man’s deeds and guides him out of the wickedness of wrongdoings”
- “But I came here to relinquish remorse entirely!”
- “You can’t and you should not! In here, people are admitted to sanctify grief in lieu of denouncing it … to hone the avail of remorse instead of waiving it!”
- “And thus, doubt is maintained and fear never subsides! Is that not the work of leaders and politicians? Is that not why they pay you? All you do is preserve the esoteric right to sin for the ones in charge … You included!”
- “But that is not true” he defended
- “And God needs no one to speak in his name” I argued
- “We speak according to his guidance, to deliver the populace from chaos to order”
- “Again, that is the work of politicians! You, father, and the likes of you are mere politicians! Filthy ones! You are as distraught as I am; all clergies are alike, they convey a unified speech of stoicism rather than religion, and this speech, father, happens to sound appealing to the leaders … And as the saying goes: God bless the queen!”
- “Your speech is no longer tolerable!” the bishop finally announced “You have failed to identify the demarcation between the actual truth, and the truth you endorse!”
- “I urge you to enlighten me, then, for I endorse no truth at all!”
- “And I urge you to begin your confession, so I would be at your service!”
The crucifix yonder was glowing more vividly, and the glimmer it emanated was alluring … it was erotic, and I was gradually being tempted to execute some nascent whim!
- “Confess, son!” he implored “Confess and profess, then bathe in the blood of Jesus that lies in the bowl yonder to wash away your sins”
- “Well” I looked the bishop in the eye “Forgive me, father … for I will sin!”
** ** **
When the bishop regained his vigilance nearly an hour later, he was caught in distress as he found himself tied to the giant crucifix, incapable of any possibility of escapade.
He strived against the restraints and seemed agitated by the tight ligature that surrounded his body, and soon his breathing was augmented and adrenaline ravished his body, bursting through his veins.
- “You should be proud, father” I praised gloriously “You have consecrated a lifetime walking in the footsteps of Jesus, and now you end up in the same way as he did”
I was inclined to the podium, above which the bowel containing the blood of Jesus rested, with a sly ingredient substitution!
- “In death I have nothing to fear” he called
I assigned my face a new feature of threatening grimace, and gratefully, the disappointment that has been nourishing on my spirit was extirpated, and soon enough my passion supplanted its ruins…
- “Your attitude says otherwise, father!” I replied “Should I untie you? Should I loosen the restraints? Why are you even distressed?”
His wrists were severed by the rope, and his lurking against the binds has taken a toll of blood on his restrained areas; he could produce no words, and I observed his apparent defiance.
- “Embrace it” I insisted as I approached him slowly, flashing a small blunt knife that I have been stowing “Don’t fight it, father, but sanctify it”
- “Untie me for God’s sake” he shouted, sending an appeal to the outside
- “Nobody cares in London” I argued “This past month has taught me in the most heinous manner that London has waived its affection”
- “What have you done?!”
I moved closer to him and grabbed his chin:
- “I succumbed to lust … God’s willing! And my lust happens to be carnally offensive”
- “There is no honor in lust” he fought back
I smirked then recessed
- “Is it not ironic how Men of God conquer his grace? God creates lust and fashions it to the extreme, and then a bunch of profoundly morbid ranters who go by the leverage of this travesty of chastity and fallacy of piety confiscate God’s generous gift to his creations!”
- “And where has your lust led you?”
- “It led me to this place; God’s willing! I am God’s wrath against them who extinguish his blessings! Speak loudly of your darkest sins … Confess to me, you perfidious rotter”
The bishop’s fright grew outspoken, more eloquent than any appeal.
- “I have sinned” He called in sheer distress, dismantling all the ambiguity that fortified him, and rid himself of the alleged chastity to which he adhered “I am a repented rapist, and a relenting perpetrator … I have embroiled myself in a saga of major misdeeds and wrongdoings, but then I walked into the light of his mercy, the God Almighty, I accepted his providence and dedicated my life to fight all sins, mine as much as the others”
- “You unleashed your lusts, and then were hired to battle the lusts of the others; how heinous, how disgraceful and utterly selfish of you!”
- “I beg you to release me, now I have made my full confession … I have never been as frank, and you would certainly not leave me tied until I fall short of breath; please, I am asthmatic and I cannot handle such distress”
- “Ask your God for his providence; meanwhile, I accept your honest exposition and I shall certainly usher you into a new era of forgiveness: my version of mercy … my very own baptism! I hereby declare you forgiven, and I call my upcoming act of mercy ‘The Goldfire Baptism’”
- “What exactly are you?!” he questioned me in a waning voice tone, his face was drenched in tears and his sham charisma faded into a prolonged whining session.
- “I am the antichrist” I muttered “I found my own piety in lust, and may the lusts be in my favor”
The bishop screamed for aid, yet his calls were never granted with the least bit of heed.
- “I believe I have informed you earlier, nobody cares in London anymore!”
I returned back to the podium and fetched the bowel and emptied its water over his body, to which he revealed a considerable agony and remarked:
- “Why does it smell different?!”
- “It’s because this is holy water no more! My baptism requires a different constituent: Kerosene which I found in the church’s culinary stall along with this elegant knife; as for the rope that leashes you, I procured it while you were unconscious”
The bishop mingled in his incessant calls for help … for providence as appropriate, and I could sense an impending blasphemy in his waning reliance on the interference of God; his screams and shouts were no longer of interest to my site, for I was cherishing the evolution of my pride, and the revenant pleasure that verily dispelled my sincere disappointment and alleviated my remorse … Oh, my dear fellow has always been so clairvoyant: “Let the bygones be bygones … And remorse is a bloke’s greatest foe … God Forbid!”
And tonight, my fellow Stranger, I declare my remorse non-existent … The bygones are bygones for life; let the baptism proceed farther, I intended!
I elevated the lid of my recently bought lighter, courtesy of the vendor’s elegant merchandizing attitude, and the gilded gargoyles of The Cradle; everything was purposefully tethered to the golden crucifix … Everything acquired a brand-new rationality and a sense of a long-awaited certainty … I then lit the lighter’s fuse, and allowed the pastor’s garments to accept my token of mercy.
The rituals of my creation were signaled to commence and I keenly witnessed my repenting prey relishing the hectic torment, expressing his utmost admiration for my erotically torrid grant … All screams are proof of admiration, and every awe, every gripe and every disdain agony are bizarrely satisfying in the luscious vibe they emanate…
I figured out that after all the bishop might have spoken the words of pure sagacity; in here, the awe of misery and grief should be sanctified, and I hereby refute to betray this very hallow!
I shed a few tears of festive cherish, my work was gradually rallying to attain perfection; and before his dying corpse was charred, I inserted the knife through his ribs, then collected the dribbling blood into the bowel of holy kerosene, and tasted my most anticipated beverage: Blood of the Sinners!
The baptism was culminated, and the ruins of my noble act shall be perpetuated beyond the efficacy of oblivion.
This act was holy … A proof of decency and undistorted piety!
ns 15.158.61.5da2
