As Alyssa and I are basking in the moment when I hear faint coughs coming from upstairs. Excitement rises in me as I shoot up from the couch so fast pain shoots up my stiff limbs.
“He’s awake,” I say. Along the excitement I can feel nerves curling in my stomach like a snake, crawling up to my throat. I look to my sister for assurance as my legs freeze up. The coughing upstairs has stopped by now.
“I know bro, I can hear him too.” Alyssa says with her usual airy laugh. She could laugh through anything; I suppose that happens when someone goes through hell.
“why don’t you go ahead and check on ‘im first. You’re the one who found him, and I’m afraid seeing too many people at once would freak Mr. Mystery out.”
“Got it,” I say quickly, darting up the stairs. When I get to the door of the bedroom, my guest bedroom, I stop. The anxiety that has plagued me since I was a little kid rears it’s ugly head. Fear, like poison, pumps into my veins and slows my movements. What if the priest drugged me, what if it was some kind of weird acid trip, what if he is a deranged killer?
Alyssa would be so pissed if I brought a deranged killer into her house.
I shake my head and push the intrusive thoughts to the back of my mind before I finally open the door.
Father Finnian sits upright, sipping from mug of tea Alyssa left hours ago. It must be stone cold. He looks at me with something like wonder, the delicate bandaged fingers of his right-hand brushing against the soft comforter. He is all cleaned up now, the once-matted hair falling neatly around bony shoulders. His face is skeletal and sickly, but the smile is gentle as a spring breeze.
“So…it was not a dream. Have I been freed?” The priest’s voice is as soft and gentle as I remember it being before the incident, and my heart clenches.
“Not a dream Father, unless we were both sharing the same dream. I am sure you feel awful, but I need to know what happened. I know why it happened.” Unconsciously my voice drops to a whisper, as though trying not to disturb the odd stillness of the room.
Father Finnian looks apprehensive, but resigned. When he speaks his voice is heavy.
“I am afraid I must take up a great deal of your time, for the story is not a short one, nor is it very believable. I find that many of the facts have become a jumble in my head, and I must unsort them as I tell my tale.”
Something about the words send a chill down my spine, and I think of the creature from the dream, of its words. It told me I had the power to see. What did it mean, was this what it wanted me to see? The truth in Finnian’s words?
I look at Finnian a second too long, then pat his unbandaged leg and speak before the silence can get too awkward.
“If it’s a long story, I’d better grab Alyssa. She is my sister, and the one who nursed you back to health actually. I couldn’t have done much to help you without her, other than get you out of that place.”
Finnian’s hands clench to fists around the comforter, knuckles going white.
“Your sister nursed me back to health? I must thank her, I have troubled too many already,” Finnian says. He sounds so regretful I put up my hands in a placating gesture as I stand up.
“Really, Father, it’s totally fine, if it was too much of a bother for Alyssa, she wouldn’t have patched you up in the first place,” I say earnestly. I practically run down the stairs to grab my sister, curiosity piqued by Finnian’s words.
“A long story, huh?” Alyssa says as we walk up the stairs. I nod vigorously.
“He looked pretty freaked out too.”
“Oh shit, you think he’s in trouble with the law or something?”
“Nah,” I quickly refute, “he seemed more ashamed than actually nervous, you know?”
“Whatever,” Alyssa shrugs, “We’ll see soon enough.”
When Alyssa and I walk back into the room Father Finnian is still sitting upright, wringing that bit of duvet in his hands so hard it looks painful.
“Relax, Father, I would rather not have to fix up your hands again,” Alyssa says quietly. Father Finnian’s eyes widen in shock, then quickly dart away. My sister, notices and her eyes narrow at him.
“What is it?” she asks sharply. Alyssa hates it when people give her weird looks, bullying set a pretty bad precedent for her.
“I do not mean to offend Miss Alyssa, but I have never met a person from the eastern continents before. I would not have taken you for siblings,” Father Finnian admits. His ears turn a little pink.
I laugh. I can’t help it, the thought of never having seen an Asian person in the twenty-first fucking century is mind-blowing. Now I’m even more curious
“Well now you’ve met one. Joseph is adopted, by the way, so we get that a lot,” Alyssa says.
“In any case, I think you’d better start explaining, Father. The both of us would like to know what happened,” I cut in quietly.
For a long moment the air is still with silence. Then, Father Finnian opens his mouth. The lovely voice trembles as he begins his tale.
“I have already told Joseph that my story will be unbelievable, but he has already seen some of the unbelievable with his own eyes. It may be more difficult for you, miss, to believe my story. Even in my own time I have found that those who work with healing and alchemical arts are governed by logic and reason rather then faith. My story requires faith and reason in equal measures to truly understand.” Finnian pauses, then closes his eyes. It’s obviously very difficult for him to talk about his life. Still, he takes another shuddering breath and soldiers on.
“I was born in the year of our lord, 1125. My name has always been Finnian. I am the son of serfs who served under King Domnal. He was the lord of a small kingdom in a small part of what they now call Ireland. To me, however, his lands seemed endless. Our folk were a little better off than the serfs of lesser lords. At least we always had decent food and a King who cared. I had the fortune, through the kindness of the eldest son of the king, to attend the seminary. The prince noticed me once, my hoe abandoned, as I stood my ground in a fierce debate with a lay priest. Rather than punishing me, as would have been proper, Prince Cenel brought me before his father, with a recommendation that I start my studies in the seminary. 16 was considered far too old to begin my studies, especially in the seminary. Still, an abbot would certainly never turn down a pupil recommended by the Lochlain family, it would be a deadly insult- “
“Hold on for a second, just hold on,” I interrupt. The story already sounds pretty out there. Alyssa stares at Finnian with incredulity, ‘bullshit’ written all over her face. The priest chews on his bloodless lips. He looks at us with desperation. Finnian looks so raw, so vulnerable. I think back to the moment I woke up, that straw bed and the wool nightgown. The building itself looked so old, so medieval.
Maybe it’s just crazy enough to be true.
“Oh no no no. This kind of shit only happens in movies, there is no way I am looking at someone who is over eight hundred years old. I’m sorry buddy, but there is no way I’m believing it.” Alyssa speaks a little too quickly to be calm. When Father Finnian opens his mouth she holds up a hand, then paces around us a few times before speaking again.
“I promised I would hear the story, so I will, but you had better have some pretty fucking airtight proof afterwards.”
“Come on, ‘Lyss, Father Finnian said there was a rational side of this, so he must have proof,” I say. I don’t tell Alyssa, but I just have a gut feeling, the most intense of my life, that Father Finnian would not lie about this.
Alyssa nods minutely. Father Finnian continues.
“I arrived at the little seminary near his highnesses’ estate and began my education. My studies were the highest point of my life, and I threw myself into learning with all the zeal of my youth. I no longer had to toil in the fields, and I no longer had to sneak looks at the books which wealthy visitors frivolously discarded.
Studies were something in which I excelled. The complex ideas of our saints and their holy books were a puzzle just waiting to be unraveled, while the Greek and Roman antiquities called to me like a siren song. Best of all were the debates between the students and masters, where no idea was left untouched, no stone unturned.” Finnian took a sip from his tea, blinking furiously. We pretended not to see the tears, like dewdrops, on his lashes.
“Really, I should have seen this coming. I have always prided myself on being rather intelligent, yet I could not see the jealousy of my peers. They had the experience, tutelage, and privilege far beyond me, yet I bested them time and time again. The resented me as well, the peasant who learned to read with the help of an old priest, practicing letters and words in the dirt.
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By the time I graduated from the seminary I had a requisites and honors that would have otherwise been only a dream for a serf like myself. To become a man of the cloth was to free myself from an otherwise predestined fate.
To show my thanks to His Highness I entered a monastery on the king’s ground, and preached sermons in the little village church to old friends and some poor folk who couldn’t afford the tithes of larger churches. At times even members of the estate would come down to hear me speak. I held my head up high for the first time in my life.
My life had been like a beautiful dream for six years; every day I prayed, preached, and even occasioned to teach the less fortunate to read when I had moments of leisure. My brothers in the monastery would sometimes mock me. They called me ‘little saint’ with a sneer, and would push their work on to me. I didn’t mind, of course, a serf could not hope to be the better of wealthy men even with a monk’s habit. Still I had no idea how deeply their resentment ran, how they waited and watched in the shadows.”
“That’s what happens when you stand out,” Alyssa sighed.
“Indeed,” Finnian said despondently. As he continued his voice grew heavier.
“Though I was part of the monastery I lived in a house separate from the other monks. This was due to… certain proclivities which those in the village had turned a blind eye to. As I feared being found out and cast away, I went to the Abbot. He was none the wiser, as I had always been a solitary and studious man, and asking for lone accommodation was nothing out of the ordinary. The monastery always had a few little shacks on the property for wanderers, in any case.
What I could never have predicted was that three of the monks in my order had dug deeply into my life, and past. They had learned the penchant which I had taken great pains to hide from my theological brothers. It began with nothing too sinister, merely strange notes which I took to be from mischievous children around the monastery. The often played such games, and I took no notice of it. In a short while, however, the letters became more and more threatening. I spoke to the abbot, but he seemed utterly flippant of the whole matter. That arose my suspicions, as Father McLeod never took threats lightly, he was a survivor of the first crusade after all.”
“I guess things escalated from there,” Alyssa said dryly, “considering you are now quite a few centuries away from your time.”
“Yes, they escalated to a degree unimaginable to me at the time. The letters, and some threats at exposing my secret, all lasted for three agonizing weeks.
Just as winter began in earnest, I received a knock on my door. It must have been quite late as all the monks and laymen slept, and there was hardly a stir even from the animals that frequented the monastery. The knocking was so loud it sounded like a drumbeat, and the sound filled me with unimaginable anxiety. It was so cold yet fear had me answer the door in nothing but my ragged dressing gown.”
I think of that dream from yesterday, of the person in the ragged clothes, running as though their life depended on it, of the strange creature with the burning grip, and its words. Chills ran through me as Finnian continued his tale.
“I hovered for a long while before the door, like a ghost, as the knocking grew louder and louder. I only opened the door when the whole shack began to shake, as though a battering ram were hitting it.
When I opened the door however, there were two old men standing there, cardinals by the look of things.”
“I don’t know much about religion. Still, Cardinals in some remote little monastery on the land of an Irish king, doesn’t seem very likely,” Alyssa murmured Finnian took a sip of his tea. She was utterly engrossed in the story by now. I wondered if she could feel it like I could, that somehow Finnian was being utterly truthful.
“I thought the same as you miss. There was no way that two such distinguished members of the church would be knocking at my door. Besides that, around them hung the foulest odor of rotting flesh. It was so strong it was practically a miasma. Though it was inexcusably rude I could not help but retch; I even went so far as to try and close the door.
As I closed the door, however, the so-called cardinal reached through the threshold and his form changed, right before my eyes.
I am, of course, a very religious man. Despite this I had never given serious thought to the problem of demons affecting myself or those around me. We were all a pious people, and never could I have imagined any of our order could stoop so low as to form a pact with one of Satan’s own servants.
Nevertheless, they were there and there was little I could do. I had little salt, for it was an expensive commodity, and these demons were ranked highly enough among the prince of darkness that they were little affected by my rough-hewn crosses. I had no time to fetch the crucifix beside my bed, so I had no choice but to run out into the bitter cold darkness. I supposed I was not thinking at the time, so great was my fear. I should have run to take the crucifix, but it is too late to dwell on that now.
‘We have come to punish you for your sins,’ they cackled after me. I asked them why I should be judged by creatures of hell rather than St. Peter, as all men are. I received the most curious reply from them. These creatures told me that only humans considered my penchant a sin, and it was humans who ordered them to find me, so-“
“Those dirty fucking bastard monks,” I interject angrily. How could a monk do that to a member of his own order? What happened to fucking brotherhood?
“As you, so colorfully, put it, those of my brotherhood had betrayed me. I was stuck in the cold, freezing and unable to run from these creatures. Well, you can imagine what happened.”
“You were trapped,” Alyssa said simply.
“Indeed, I was. The demons drove me back inside and sealed me in the very shack I had called home. It was a curse that the monks forced the demons to put me under. I was not allowed to expire upon my time, nor was I allowed to venture to the outside world. Simply put, I was at the demons’ mercy for all of time. However, due to the ever-watchful eye of the heavens, there was something of misstep in the curse.
The shack, which should have become invisible to the human eye, slowly began to change. The quality of the wood became better, it grew more spacious. Little by little the shack became a quaint cottage, then a beautiful Parish house.
Then, it moved. I couldn’t feel it, but when I looked outside, I was surrounded by fields of lavender. I had never seen the flower, but somehow, I knew what it was, and the name of a town floated into my head. I was in France. I didn’t know how I did, but the information was there inside my head. I received my first visitor then, too. He was a soldier, tired, hungry, and lost. I provided him with food, conversation, and hope. The demons hovered over me the whole time, yet he could not see them. After having rested, he went on his way and I was once again alone.
The demons were frantic to find out what was causing these changes at first, but, as they hardly affected their own mission, they let it be.
The most curious part was, with every time the house moved and every conversation I had, it seemed as though something was giving me the information, I needed about that time, and that place.
In the beginning this was just another torture for me, to learn of the changes in the outside world, good and bad, and to be unable to experience them for myself. Every night, after the tortures, I would be hauled back to my quarters. There I would pray, sometimes for hours, to the Lord and his angels, to give me guidance, some sign as to why this was happening to me.
Then, a sign came, a true vision, such as I have only read about in the histories of the saints. It happened around 1810, a particularly miserable year where wanderers were few and the areas where the house appeared were unusually remote. I was praying in that miserable dungeon the demons created, when a creature approached me. It was as tall as three men stacked, and though its entire body was covered in wrappings a light so strong I could hardly see seemed to radiate from it.
‘I cannot reveal myself to you, but I come to tell you that there is a way out of this torment. You must wait many more decades; you will endure far more torment than you can image. One day, however, a man will come who can see through the mist which these foul demons have cast upon you. Your soul was not meant to be shrouded in darkness, for you are a bringer of light.’
It disappeared an instant later, and I have not had any other visions since then. The rest of my story is, I suppose, rather mundane compared to the rest. I waited since then, hoping against hope that the next wanderer would be the one the angel mentioned. Many men came and left, and I feared the one the creature mentioned never would arrive, until you showed up Joseph.”
As we sit in the heavy silence of that impossible confession my mind is racing a mile a minute. The creature, possibly an angel, that visited Finnian sounded eerily like the terrifying thing from my dream. I couldn’t help the words from tumbling out of my mouth.
“Father that creature that spoke to you, did it touch you? Did feel your skin burning as it touched you?”
Finnian started, then nodded vigorously.
“It did, and that is why I came to believe it was an angel. The creatures which the bible describes are good, though fearsome. They must be, to be warriors of our Lord.” He replies quickly.
“I had a dream as I slept in the parish house,” I began, “I think you were in it, I think you were running from the demons, and that same creature gripped my shoulder and told me I was the only one who could see.”
Alyssa looks from him to me, then slumps down in her chair. She lets out a long, loud groan. Then, she sits upright again and begins to speak, as though to herself.
“How have my life choices led to this, why am I listening to a man who says he’s from the fucking middle ages! Why do I fucking believe him?”
“I do have proof Miss-,”
“It’s Alyssa. We are obviously destined to know one another as well so it’s easier if we drop the formalities. I’m Joe’s older and wiser sister, and he’s adopted obviously.” Every word is snarky and forceful, but it’s pretty obvious Alyssa is trying to process everything. I’m ninety-nine percent sure Finnian just broke her brain with that shit.
“I do have proof Alyssa, if you would like to see it?”
“I will take whatever you have.”
Finnian reaches into a medium-sized leather pouch around his neck, the only thing that Alyssa has not taken from him when she fixed him up, and pulled out several small rolls of parchment paper. He hands them over dutifully, and Alyssa takes a look at them.
Her jaw drops.
“shit bro, take a look at this,” she mutters, and I lean over.
They are all letters, dated in the twelfth century and cramped with tiny handwriting. The signed names are different, but all the letters are addressed to Brother Finnian Doyle. Alyssa hands them back, then stands up to crack her stiff joints.
“If you were a monk,” she asks, “Why are you a priest now?”
“My habit transformed into the garb of a priest when the visitors began coming, I suppose a priest is more appealing to people than a monk.”
“Ok. So, Father or Brother or whatever, how much did you learn about the future in that house?” Alyssa suddenly asks.
“You believe me?” Finnian asks, desperate hope in his voice.
“Don’t be an idiot, of course I do. The story that I heard from you and the shit that Joe has seen are almost exactly the same, and you really do seem like a gentle guy. A serial killer would have already figured out a way to get to us. Besides, the letters seemed real to me. I’m a simple girl, what I can see I believe.”
“T-thank you for your trust in me. As for your question, well, I have learned about the advancements of the modern world, both in technology and culture. I have never seen them, however, until Joseph freed me from the house.”
That explained why he was squinting with the lights on.
“Well shit, you have a lot of catching up to do! Welcome to the twenty-first century, Father Finnian,” Alyssa says, a smile blooming on her exhausted face.