MicroHorror

“And the Lord banished Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden, and did set an Angel with a fiery sword at the gate. And the serpent looked at the Angel and said, “So, what do you want to do now?”
–Genesis 3:23(½)

Quaestor Godwin sat back in his padded chair and sighed. He really would have to be getting on with his day. The coffers of the church would not grow themselves, after all. The monk took a deep breath, and squeezed his eyes shut. He exhaled slowly, and smiled.

“That was exquisite, darling woman. Inform your husband that his slights against Mother Church have been forgotten, and in fact…” He gave a shudder of pleasure. “You have procured for him one less year of atonement. Does that please you?”

In response, the young cook’s wife just raised her streaming, red-rimmed eyes, and said nothing.

“Leave me. I have the work of the Lord to do.”

She needed no further coaxing, and ran from the room, as though Satan himself might be at her heels. Godwin allowed himself a small chuckle. It was a dreadful burden being the town’s sole link to the Almighty, but he thought that there were some benefits. He rose then, and straightened his cassock. Time to do his Good Works.

His first visit was to Duke Geoffrey, a man as infamous for his wickedness as he was for his fear of Hell. Godwin had collected an enormous sum from him over the years, and as long as the farms kept producing, he could count on a steady stream of income from the “Duke of Sodomy.” He’d often thought he might like to try that act himself with Anabella, she of the cheeky husband and chaffed kneecaps.

It was to his great surprise that the Duchess Felicia met him at the gate herself.

“Dear Lord in Heaven, you heard our prayers.”

Godwin tried to keep his air of aloof power, “We had planned to meet on this day, did we not, milady?”

“Indeed, Brother Godwin, but something has happened. It is horrible. Words cannot describe; you must come.”

Were it any other family, he would have refused, but to turn his back on the family that had built his fortune would be foolhardy to say the least. He made up his mind. “Lead on, Duchess.”

The Duchess opened the way, and Godwin entered the house. The door slammed shut, crushing her nose, and barring her from entering.

“Hello, Brother Godwin.”

A man’s voice, but not the Duke’s, seemed to be coming from everywhere, and nowhere. The house was freezing, though it was midday outside.

“Come to hear my sins?” There was a gleeful malice in the tone, and the monk looked behind him. Hanging in midair like a macabre puppet was the Duke, eyes rolled up to the whites, blood running from a dozen self-inflicted wounds.

“Welcome, holy man.” The thing mocked him.

“I… I cast you out, demon.” Godwin had to take control. Was he not the servant of the Almighty? “The Lord God of Hosts commands you!”

Braying laughter was the reply. Underneath, Godwin thought he could hear the screaming of the damned. “I think not, Quaestor. Remarkable as it seems, I am closer to God than the likes of you. God requires evil to give himself purpose. I serve that purpose, and who, pray, do you serve?”

The monk felt hot piss soak the front of his cassock.

From the top of the stairs then, a new voice. “Go AWAY!”

The Duke-thing growled in surprise. A red-haired girl, tiny in stature, looked down at them. “God HATES you. Go AWAY. Give me my DADDY back.”

The demon shrieked. The walls shook, and pottery shattered. “God wants you GONE.”

The Duke collapsed to the ground, trembling. In a minute, he was still, breathing heavily. Godwin turned to the girl. “My darling child…”

She snarled back, “He doesn’t like you much, either.”