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“Father, how dost thou fare?"
The priest turns with an uncertain expression. He knows this voice, the voice of his child. His only son out of 4 girls. The one who rarely says anything other than thank you, yes sir, no sir, and even then it’s rare to really hear it. Judah stares up at him with eyes that seem slightly absent. Something's wrong. Incredibly wrong.
“Beg your mercy (pardon)?” the man frowns looking at his son confused. The boy drops his expression, as if a shift completely within seconds he has retreated to the safety of his room. Interesting.
“Judah! Come at once. Your mother has prepared a meal” he calls out towards the staircase as he carefully sets down a bowl of oats infront of the boy's chair. Judah runs down the stairs joyful and happy like normal, he takes his seat and clasps his hands together to silently pray. The priest returns to the kitchen listening to the sound of his children eating their meal. He takes his wife's hand in his own and squeezes. “////, feeling under the weather?” she asks, brushing her brown hair behind her ear. He’s unsure. “Have thou heard much talk from Judah?”
“The normal?” she frowns and pulls away to begin cleaning up the woodstove. “Keep your eyes on him, ay?”
“Ay beloved.”
The following day the priest finds himself walking from his duties in the church to check on his son. “Father ///// Quinton has fallen with a fever. Would you come to aid us?” he sighs stepping over to the mother of a family. She seems worried but he takes her hand and gives her a pouch of herbs. “Boil and strain. Serve three times daily. Seek me if it worsens.”
“Thank you father! May god be with thee.”
“May God be with you as well sister.”
Upon walking through the threshold of the home he finds the line of salt so carefully protecting those inside.. To be broken. He spreads the salt out evenly to replace what has fallen off the doors ledge. Perhaps the wind.
His daughters are old enough that they are learning at the school house or helping with chores. Leaving little Judah with smaller tasks, such as practicing his prayers, reading the book of god, and cleaning the home.
“Judah!” he calls out watching the boy run down the stairs, he stands infront with a frown. “Father?” the priest runs his fingers through the boys hair. “Come, you need to bathe. Sickness is running amiss I will not have you ill.” he taps the boys shoulder leading him over to the basin they use to bathe. After warming up some water over the stove he takes it to basin and empties it. Once the water is cooled a smidge he motions for judah to step in. “father” he glances over from where he was folding the removed clothes. “Ay? Is it too hot?”
“no”
“Good. wash thine hair I will brush it after.”
The priest stood quietly in the threshold of the ‘bathroom’ listening to the sound of the water moving, the sound of scrubbing. “Father,” he glances and approaches with cloth to wrap the child in to prevent the cold from touching his skin. After drying and reclothing he has his son sit infront of him in the kitchen. Slowly he starts to brush through the tangles and knots. “Have thou practiced vows?”
“Mhm” the nod was normal. Perhaps he was overthinking this. As he runs oil through the damp strands he spots another break in the line of salt protecting the home. “Has thou been messing with salt?”
A head shake for no. okay…
He circles the chair and gets on a knee to take the boys hands in his own. “I know I am gone on the daily, but thou is always welcome to join me at the worship hall. Or even help your mother with the sickly. You are deeply loved Judah do not forget it.”
The boy seemed confused but nodded to show he understood. He squeezed the small hands tightly in his own. “Afraid?”
“No, no, of course not.” he shifts and gets more comfortable in his seated position. “God is always with thee. Through every ache and uncertainty. I want god beside you my son..”
The boy nods again.
The following day he rose to find Judah awaiting him at the church. Odd. but not unwelcomed. “Judah, have thou come to learn?”
The boy shakes his head, “father..” Judah holds up handmade sheep, the stitching is poor and crude. The stuffing- straw is poking out of the cloth in which is around it. Scraps of wool has been wound and stitched on making the sheep appear to have a wool coat. It is… in need of repair of course or restitching.
“Did you make this Judah?” he crouches to the boys level getting a small smile and nod. “It is very good, you did well.” he praises patting the boys head before watching him run off.
As the sun falls he makes the trip home, thankfully not a long one. He finds his daughters sitting around the woodstove sewing damaged clothing that had been dropped off to the church. He sighs and takes a deep breath, they all smile happily and he spends quite a while chatting with them and hearing of their days. He will admit it is.. Good to get away from the stress of work every now and then. These conversations make his life worth living.
“Judah, go with your father to get more wood.” The priest was putting on his coat when his wife called to their son, the odd part? It took.. A bit longer then normal. No running down the stairs, just careful walking. The boy smiles at him but it seems to lose its normal sparkle. Is Judah falling ill? His only son? Ill? Why would God put them through the illnesses which kill and maim? Surely this is a test, a trial… of his faith and that of his family.
The walk out to the treeline is quiet, the only noise being the bugs and crunching of leaves beneath their shoes. “Judah,” he motions and carefully piles cuts of wood into the boys arm, three to be exact. They’re not big of course. He grabs a few more sliding them beneath his arm. “You begin school this spring. Are you excited?” he didn’t expect a response, Judah didn’t usually respond to questions like this, finding them to require too much effort. “I’m excited Father”
“Mmm.” he blinks a few times, interesting. His suspicious have returned. Again. “I am very happy to hear you talking son.”
“Mhm.” back to soft noises and head nods. Perhaps his son is overcoming this fear of speaking? Or whatever condition he has. Which would be joyous of course. They return to the home dropping off wood. One of the ladies he knows from the church runs to him grabbing his hands tightly. “Father ///// did thou hear of the possession in /////? Witches and demons father!”
“Sister please calm down, it is late-” he tries to be polite and kind but it’s… a little late for being afraid of news that may not even be true. “Father I am afraid what if they take one of us father!” he sighs and brings her inside. He takes a collection of herbs and salt handing it to her. “God provides us paths to his righteousness. Salt to protect from demons, and herbs to ward off the witches. No evil will take you sister. Not if i am here.” she cries with thanks, the priest has one of his girls walk the woman home. He closes the door behind them.
As the days pass things become more tense among the townsfolk, the priest spends most of his day calming them and leading prayer. Opposed to what he’d normally do, which is attend to the sick and ill. And help pray for those who truely need god’s guidance. He finds himself exhausted upon returning home. His children are not present when he returns. Which means he can clean up and rest. Perfect. Till it’s not.
“Father, how dost thou fare?”
A noticeable chill appears in the air, something is telling him he has a visitor. One that was uninvited. Though he’s sure it has nothing to do with Judah. The boy walks over and sits on the floor infront of the woodstove. “I am fine Judah, tired but fine”
“Father.. I want to be a priest like you.” he frowns, while he would be honored to have his son follow the path of the lord he has never heard it be expressed. Not like this. “I… want to help the sick, and read the word.”
“Judah..” he mumbles feeling his breath in his throat. No. not his boy. Not his son. Betrayal of the one he so loves. “My son, are you feeling ill?” he asks placing a hand on the boys forehead checking for signs of possession as he gets closer. “I’m fine.”
Why? why why why why why- why Judah? Why his son? Why not someone who doesn’t worship? How was his son so easily. Deceived by this demon. “Judah, I think we need more logs for the stove. Go fetch them.” he orders trying to keep his voice steady. Taking a deep breath he grabs his books and begins to search for guidance.
In truth? No soul has survived possession. The act of exorcism is stressful on the body. Perhaps Judah.. Perhaps he could be used to rid hell of another demon. An act of sacrifice, a way to make his death hold meaning.
Yes.
The priest grabs some rope and blesses them with a prayer walking out the door. “Judah! I think we have enough wood” he calls out watching the boy lower it to the ground. He doesn’t want to startle Judah.
“Come here son.” he motions with a smile, “father?” The boy mumbles as his father wraps him in a tight hug. The man finds himself tearing up. “You are deeply loved Judah. You do know that right?” His voice cracks as the boy returns the hug. “Yes. Love… too” he whispers making the man cry further.
After regaining his composure, he grabbed Judah's wrist. “Did you talk to a demon boy?”
“Demon? No of course not father.” He glances seeing the boys eyes change purple, of course. How could he miss it? Something so small. “Judah… the betrayer.. of course” he scoffs dragging the boy through the town.
“Father //// what is going on?” A woman runs up confused as to why he was dragging his own son to the church.
“Gather the congregation. A demon has possessed my son.” The woman almost passes out but knows her job, running off to gather people.
A bonfire is made and he lays the symbol of Christ upon the flames. He knows this will not be pleasant for his son. But he will be returned to heaven once it’s over.
“What is your name demon?” He crouches staring at the boys eyes as he kneels before the crowd. “F-father-“ Judah is no doubt terrified. But he cannot offer comfort as he wishes he could. “This demon has misled and poisoned Judah’s mind. It made him weak where he had been strong! Even now we see the boy fighting. But we must rid of the demon!” He yells to the crowd.
“Now tell me your name. I wish to name you appropriately.”
“I am Abaddon! King of the cobras! Ruler of men! You will not harm me with these Feable tricks; only your son. You foolish man of god!”
“So it has a name. Abaddon. You will regret harming my son.”
“All he wanted was for you to be proud of him!”
“I was proud. I was always proud.” He feels his friends hand pull him away. Shaking his head as he moved away. Right. The demon is trying to trick him.
He begins the ritual to bind the demon to the vessel. He picks up the iron and watches the demon’s eyes flick from blue, red, purple, blue, red. The emotion being fear and anger. “Have mercy!” A mix of anger and fear. One a demon, the other a son.
“Hold still boy, it won’t take but a second” a set of the youth pastors who’d once taken care of this child grab him by the arms forcing him still, they lift his shirt exposing pale skin.
“Be bound to this vessel Abaddon. Feel every inch of Gods grace.”
the scream was..
Horrifying.
But A father must do what has to be done. Pressing the brand harder.
May God be merciful. This has to be a sin.