Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Abraxia: Book of Son

When the fires of hell finally ceased to burn questions remained. The lore outside the church was that the happenings in and around the Motel were nothing more than campsite tales meant to encourage our youth to seek out the Lord, and realize what penalty waited for those who walked among the shadows. Internally, the events that unfolded there were recorded and stored inside the vaults of the Vatican, the whereabouts of the key more secret than the documents in which it unlocked. The world remains now clueless to the sacrifices made by those close to the situation, the people who risked everything in the plight against Lucifer and his Horde. Stories, tales you might say, continue to leave gaps of information between that which we know to be truth, and that which we can only speculate. What we know is this;

Fr. John Writhe was no ordinary man. His role is both Critical to the outcome of the events at the Motel and Unresolved. His whereabouts are unknown. Patriarch Mcmannus has deemed Father Writhe as a heretic and a murderer. Suspected in the slaying of Bishop Verelli and the burning of Saint Thomas' church, as well as the kidnapping of one Sister Margaret Angelo A.K.A "Sister Aeglaeca." Fr. Writhes actions inside the Motel have also brought unwanted attention from the Vatican to the Holy Bridge. The Pontiff has requested the company of both myself and my mentor Cardinal Abraxia. Although I am uncertain about the reasons for The Holy Father wishing to speak with me, I am at ease after my own discussion with my mentor, for he has assured me this meeting can only lift my position within the Holy Bridge.

The young man rose up from his chair and blew out the lone candle burning on the old cherry desk. He approached the open bay window and stood looking out across the courtyard, beyond the platinum obelisk,
to the iron gates of the palisade. Beyond the fortress, waves crashed against a frosted mountainside. The sky was light blue in color with a coating of frigid white clouds swollen with freezing precipitation, preparing for another long day of constant snowfall. He started to light a cigarette when he heard the knock at his room door. Quickly, he put away his smoke and turned to open the door.
     "I hope I am not interrupting anything."
     "No, not at all. Do come in, Cardinal."
Cardinal Abraxia was an older gentleman, his age never disclosed (which was common with all of the hierarchy here) but he suspected him to be well into his seventies, stepped inside the room and found his way over to the desk.
     "Still hammering out your stories I see." He said hinting to the typewriter whose ink had yet to dry.
     "I contain my thoughts to pages as suggested by you, sir."
     "Indeed. I shall one day take the time to read from them. I am certain they contain quality entertainment, of this I do not doubt."
     "Yes. To what do I owe the pleasure, if I may ask?"
Cardinal Abraxia scanned the room noticing the open window.
     "Of course. I wanted to make sure everything was in order for our trip to the Holy Father come morning. I can not tell you how important this trip is to the overall success of things. The Father has taken great interest in your unique gifts, shall we say."
The young man looked quizzically to his mentor. He had known Cardinal Abraxia for only a year, but he knew from the moment they met that his words were double edged in both meaning and purpose.
     "You mean with my visions."
     "Quite so. I was surprised myself to learn that your recent...dream had made it so far up the chain, but Bishop Cantrell saw potential with it."
Dreams. Even now his mentor could not admit that what he saw was very different than a dream, for one a dream generally implied one was asleep and not wide-eyed.
     "And what about you? Do you feel the same way as the Bishop?"
Cardinal Abraxia thought a moment on this. He did his best not to show, but hiding fear and concern in the same face can be difficult, considering all that had unfolded.
     "I am your sponsor, Jack. If I did not believe you I would not be standing here in this room with you now. Do try and be ready, five am comes early."
With this, Cardinal Abraxia turned on his heel and left. Jack waited a bit, and then pulled out his smoke lighting it. He had not thought much about his latest vision that meant more to others than it did him. Like most of the visions before it, there was only one particular vision that kept him up at night. There was darkness all around him in the vision, it was cold and wet and he could smell fuel. And then there was the voice of a man, desperate and pleading..."Oh God please no!" The words hung in Jack's mind. They brought fear unlike anything he had ever felt before. As he pushed the smoke out from his lungs in perfectly formed rings, he could not help but wonder, Why?  


  1. I think I've lost track of this somewhere along the way. I find I have trouble following fiction in a blog form; I'm not sure why. Don't take it personally. I'll try to keep up.

  2. No worries. Considering the lack of readers on this blog, I mainly use it to build upon the actual novel I am writing now. I think the trouble with a fiction blog is that you have to rely on each post and the hope that the reader knows my intent behind them. All the stories connect here, but you have to take in all of the information given in a blog form. I try to convey this with music and images, along with the words. Keep in mind I might be really bad at writing too, which is causing the disconnect. I appreciate the attempt in keeping up with it though.

    If you're interested, I do have a complete story for Father Writhe that I plan on submitting, if you are interested in reading and sharing your thoughts on afterward?