Sunday Mass

The still peace of the warm Sunday morning was abruptly disturbed as a little girl ran as fast as her legs could carry her down the street. Of course, being Sunday, no one was out on the streets or in their shops. Rather, the majority of the town, save for some degenerate drunks and other unsaintly characters, were all at morning mass.

“No, no I can’t be late!” the girl hissed to herself as she turned onto Main Street from Tapper. “Why did I get distracted by that bird in the first place?” She asked the empty street. After passing by the horses that were lazily standing by the hitching post in front of the church she paused, stopping to catch her breath. She leaned on the church doors and listened. Ironically praying that the sermon hadn’t started yet, hoping to slip in before the pastor was standing right where he’d see her. Luckily, when she pressed her ear to the doors, she could hear the sounds of the choir singing in their angelic way.

“Maybe because of the singing I’ll able to sneak in without anyone noticing me.” She whispered to one of the horses. After steadying her breath, and brushing the prairie dust off of her primrose dress she reached her hand out to words the iron studded door.

“Dearie, dearie.” The girl’s gaze shot upwards, where she saw perched in a rather lazy way, the stupid bird that had been the cause of all her mornings troubles.

“Oh?” She said stepping back to better watch it, “I’m sorry, I can’t follow you, you’ve already gotten me into enough trouble.” The bird, which was a great, rust, and cream-colored barn owl, flapped its bronze tipped wings swooping quickly up and then around to the back of the church. The girl stood for a moment; some part of her feeling stuck in place. For some reason, this bird had some pull on her, one which compelled her to not enter the church but rather follow it. That was ridiculous she quickly thought and shook her dress out once more before pushing all her weight against the old oak doors, slowly pushing them open.

The sound of the old doors opening seemed almost deafening as it resounded throughout the modest church. Wincing at the sound, the little girl slipped through the passage that she had made and entered the chapel. She quickly looked around, worried that the noise of the doors had garnered notice from the congregation, but they all remained seated, tentatively listening to the choir.

She slowly made her way to the closest pew to her right, for if she had gone to the left then she would be next to the O’Conner family, and she didn’t much care for their youngest son Nate, since all school year he had been making her life a living nightmare. Tying her hair to the backs of chairs and putting worms in her lunch. The kids at school did say that his father was a “troubled man” who took his troubles out on his family, but the girl had no idea what any of that meant and so she simply hated the boy to his very core, even if he was a little cute.

As quietly as she could, she slipped into the pew and sighed a sigh of relief. The only other occupant of the right-hand pew was an elderly gentleman seated at the far end opposite her. She did not know this man; however, it was a larger congregation and she had not yet met them all, so she did not think much of his presence.

Now that she was seated and not trying to do anything in particular, she could now put her fall attention to the choir and their beautiful sounds. However, being a girl just shy of thirteen her mind quickly strayed to more interesting matters then that of the church and songs. Her thoughts rested on the strange bird that she had met just that morning, the one that had inadvertently made her late to church.

“Though,” she giggled softly to herself, “I doubt the poor thing meant any inconvenience. It did have a strange air about it though. And owls don’t normally sight see during the day. And its eyes where not like anything I’ve ever seen before, emerald? They were so bright that if it was night, I’d bet they’d glow like a lightning beg! It sang quite a strange tune too, ‘dearie dearie dearie,’ as if it was calling out to me in particular. It sounded so much like speech and yet still just a cute bird’s song.”

Her brain continued to muse about in such a manor for what must have been a few minutes until her attention once again stumbled back to the present. As she listened, she was suddenly confused as it dawned upon her that the choir had already sung this verse before. Wondering if anyone else had noticed this error she looked about the congregation. However, no one seemed to notice. They just sat in their pews and looked forward, listening to the music which was now repeating itself for what was the third time.

Looking to her right, she saw the older man who sat just like everyone else, looking forward in perfect silence. She slowly slid herself along the pew till she was close enough to whisper.

“Why are they repeating the same verse,”. The man continued to look forward and did not respond. Thinking that he did not hear her, she slid slightly closer and whispered to him again saying, “Why are they repeating the same verse.” Again, the man did not respond. Confused, she slid all the way over so that she was right next to him. Again, she whispered to him, this time in his ear, “Why are they repeating the same verse.” The man responded just as before, with silence. Now she was just annoyed. She deduced that the only logical next step was to poke him, so she did, over and over. She continued to poke the man for longer than anyone had let her poke them before but still nothing. She stopped and sat next to him; her brow furrowed in thought.

After a minute or two, she concluded that this man must be asleep and so she should try and find her parents, who were usually near the front of the church. She stood and slipped past the man and started to walk down the aisle. No one seemed to pay her any mind, so she did not try to be quiet or sneaky. She just walked right down the middle of the church, letting her arms swing freely as she looked at one pew and then the next, in search of her parents. At last, she saw her mother and father sitting two rows from the front.

Using the same tactic as before, she whispered to both of them. Yet, she still got no response. Again, and again she whispered to her mother and father, but they did not even blink nor turn her way. She was frightened now and started to shout and clutch her mother’s hand. She pulled at her father’s beard, she pinched her mother on the arm, she tried to tickle her father, yet nothing worked. They remained stoic and unresponsive. She ran back to the center pathway and shouted at the top of her lungs, “Is anyone able to hear me at all?”

Then, she heard something. She turned to the pulpit where she thought she might see Pastor Jacobs coming to reassure her that everything was alright. That this was just a bad dream and her mother would soon wake her up. Instead, she saw a man whom she had never seen before, standing at the pulpit. She stepped back both frightened and surprised. The man just looked at her with small almost snake like green eyes through a dark green hood that rested top his head. Much like his hood, his coat was a dark green shade and the coattails seemed to be especially long. In his hands was a cane with a silver handle.

“Who, who are you?” the little girl said in a frightened whisper.

“Who? Little old me?” responded the strange man in a quick voice while never breaking his gaze. The girl looked at him and took another step back.

“Yes?” she whispered again, almost unsure of her own answer.

“Ha, good question” the man said and with that he effortlessly hopped over the pulpit and landed in a squat in front of it. “but I might have a better one, who might you be?” He said as he once again gazed into the little girls eyes. His gaze was so intense that she took two more steps back. It was as if he was reading her life story through her own eyes.

“M-m-me?” she nervously stammered.

“Well, it would be rather,” the man paused before continuing, as if he was trying to find the perfect word to use, “difficult to talk to anyone else here dearie. So, I guess that would leave your options rather slim as to who I might be referring.” She stuttered and took yet another step back. Something was incredibly wrong with this man she thought to herself. For he had not yet blinked once.

“I – I am Jessie.” The girl said, slightly louder this time, as if she had found strength in hearing her own name.

At the sound of her name, the man broke eye contact and looked around at the rest of the church, then said in a hushed tone, “Jessie, what a pretty name, for a pretty little girl.” With this the man smiled and looked down at the floor below him.

Emboldened, Jessie took a step forward and spoke, “Who are you and what is going on here?”

“Ah, two very good questions, both rather hard to explain. First off who am I? I have a plethora of names, the question is, which will I give you?” With that the man paused for a moment and thought. Then he turned his gaze to her again, stood up, and continued, “I am who some would call the Green Chaplain, at your service.” As he said his name the Chaplain gave a low and gracious bow. For reasons that were unknown to her, as soon as Jessie heard the name in his quick slippery voice, she drew back a step or two and shuttered.

“Now, as for what is umm, going on here. As you so graciously put it.” While the Chaplain continued to speak, he, with two quick springs had traversed the steps leading down from the pulpit and was now standing fifteen or so feet directly in front of Jessie. He continued thusly, “I would say that as of now, nothing is happening here. Nothing at all. No one breathing, no one worrying, no one wanting, no one wishing.” With this he walked to one of the church goers to his left and brushed some dust from the man’s jacket. “You see? Nothing at all.”

Jessie thought for a moment, she knew what she wanted to say next, but she did not want to know the answer, fearing it to be true. While she steadied herself the Chaplain merely watched her. His gleaming green eyes returning to that abnormal gaze that he had first greeted her with. With a deep breath and as steady of a voice as she could muster, she spoke,

“Are, are they, are they dead?”

“HA!” The Chaplain uttered sharply and gave a devilish grin. “Oh no no no, not dead, far from it in fact. Ha dead indeed!” Suddenly, Jessie felt a surge of emotions,

“I don’t understand, what happened? What happened to them? What did you do to them all? What did you do to my mom and dad?” She turned her face as she felt tears begin to form at the corners of her eyes. The Chaplain took a step forward, seemingly unphased by her sudden outburst.

His walk was very odd to say the least. As he advanced, he kept one of his forearms parallel to the ground while letting the wrist hang limp. The other arm would hang almost limp at his side. As he moved forward, he constantly shifted his weight slightly as well as swaying side to side with each step as his feet carried him forward. Each foot was placed almost perpendicular to the other. All of this culminated in him seeming to glide forward with very little upward motion. As he moved, he kept his eyes focused on Jessie. And with every step his devilish smile intensified, and his emerald eyes seamed to gleam ever brighter.

“It’s very simple, my little girl.” The Chaplain said as he approached. “I did what I always do, make deals, collect payments, and of course, make good on my word.” As he spoke, the light, which had been coming in from the large colorful windows on either side of the church, started to darken. Jessie heard a wind suddenly pick up and shriek as it rushed over and around the church. The candles that sat on the alter behind the pulpit began to flicker and dance wildly, as if evading an onslaught of blows.

As the Chaplain approached in his unnatural way, Jessie started to back up. The air in the church was now cold and seemed stale. Fear started to swell inside her as she quickened her backward retreat.

“Wh-what are you?” Jessie shrieked at the green devil. As soon as she cried these words, she suddenly misplaced her footing and tripped, falling backwards onto the cold stone floor. The Chaplain paused, and looked at Jessie, then answered her with a most malicious tone.

“Oh, that is very simple, you see my child, I am this towns past depravities rearing their ugly heads.” The Chaplain gave one final devilish sneer, then, with no warning sprang towards Jessie who was still on the floor. With a cry of fright, she rolled to one side, narrowly escaping the Chaplain’s lunge. She scrambled to her feet and before she had even looked up started to race as fast as she could towards the oaken doors that sealed the church. Behind her, the Chaplain let out a ghastly laugh that sounded as if it evaporated into the hair, its hunting reverberation coming to her from every corner of the church. She turned to see if he was chasing her, but when she looked behind, she could not see him anywhere. She turned back to face the doors. Yet, as soon as her gaze rested upon the manor of her escape, her heart almost jumped out of her chest. In front of the doors, the Chaplain stood almost smug as he barred her only exit. Jessie careened to a halt before him and the doors, both frightened and dumbfounded. she had just seen him and heard him behind her, yet here he stood. She staggered backwards with quick short breaths.

“I-I don’t believe it, h-h-how?” She murmured, her fright making speech near impossible.

“Oh, come now dearie,” the Chaplain smirked, “disbelief is a little beneath you at this point wouldn’t you say?” With this the Chaplain took a step forward and spoke again, “Over here darling.” Yet, as he spoke his voice did not seem to come from where he stood. Instead, it seemed to Jessie to come from right behind her. She could even feel his chilled breath on her ear as if he had just whispered into it. She jumped and turned to look behind her. To her utter astonishment the Chaplain now stood right behind her with his vial gaze now less than three feet before her. Understandably startled, Jessie started to jump back but with one swift move the Chaplain reached out and clasped her arm, encircling it with his spindle like fingers. “Now, if you don’t mind, it is time for me to collect a very very overdue debt.”

With these words the Chaplain’s eyes shone even brighter than they had before as he tightened his grip on Jessies arm. Jessie, for her part tried her hardest to detach herself from his vice like grip but was unable. Only managing to tire herself out more then she already was. Her struggling was suddenly halted as she felt something on her arm were the Chaplain grasped. It was the sensation of burning, scorching, searing pain under his hand. She cried and shrieked as the pain enveloped her. With tears filling her eyes she peered up at the Chaplain who was looking down at her. The corners of his mouth forming a grin. As his grin intensified, so did the pain on her left arm where he held her. Overcome by the agony that seemed to be enveloping her arm, Jessie kicked and struck at him, no longer thinking just acting on desperate impulses.

She suddenly staggered back and fell to the floor as The Chaplain released his grasp. Jessie, still acting more on instinct then on her own thought, scrambled to the nearest pew for shelter. She clutched at the wooden pew desperate for security, then peered around it. The Chaplain was merely standing where she had left him, just observing her. Jessie looked down at her sleeve where the Chaplain had held her, yet she saw no harm or burn marks on the fabric. Confused she rapidly rolled her sleeve up to examine the flesh. Jessie let out a gasp and felt faint as she revealed her arm to the cold air. She was unable to speak, nor to think as she examined her arm. Scorched into her flesh in an elegant font were two letters, “G.C.”. Jessie felt faint and could hardly make sense of anything. What had happened? What was going on? Again, acting more on impulse then reason, she scratched and raked at the burned flesh wishing the brand would be wiped off, erased from her vision. Yet she could not remove the mark. Bursting into a flood of tears she looked back at the Chaplain who had not moved once.

“W-what did you do?” Jessie faintly said. the Chaplain, dropped into a squatting position so that he might look directly into Jessies eyes,

“As I said, I have merely collected what was mine,” the Chaplain was no longer smiling, and his face was almost void of any kind of visible emotion. Jessie remained where she was, shivering and weeping for what was to her an unknowable amount of time. Her thoughts were untethered to reality, and she could not focus on anything. She could only sit and weep. Eventually though, her head did clear a little.

“What debt?” She asked, trying to subdue intermittent sobs. The Chaplain had not moved or even batted an eyelash from when he had last spoke.

“Well, you see, it’s like this, your parents, and this whole town made me a deal, oh 14 or some odd years ago. I fulfilled my end of the deal, as I am known to do, among other things. But alas, your parents and by proxy the town as a whole, neglected to fulfill theirs.” The Chaplain paused for a moment and looked about him at the still stagnant congregation. Then he turned back to Jessie, “And so today, the lord’s day, the sabbath day,” he posed and smiled, “the rest day,” he said these last words with a malevolent tone, then continued. “I have returned, as I promised, and collected what was owed as well as a little more for my troubles.” With this the Chaplain rose and started to make his way towards the exit. Jessie raised her head above the pew to watch him. Seeing he was leaving she jumped to her feet crying,

“Where are you going? You can’t leave! You need to fix them! You need to fix all of them!” The Chaplain turned and looked at her, and once again she felt his eyes peer deep into her soul.

“Why?” the Chaplain said sharply.

“Because you have to! You have to save them! I need my parents!” Jessie argued, while trying to hold back a sob.

“And why is that?” the Chaplain said still gazing intently at Jessie.

“They are my family, my friends! You can’t just leave them!” Jessie shouted, then immediately broke down into inconsolable sobs.

“Even the O’Conner’s youngest son? Shall I save him too? How about the old man who you don’t even know? Are they all as valuable as your parents?” the Chaplain spat back with a mocking tone. Taken aback by this comment, Jessie looked up,

“how...” she started to say but was cut off as the Chaplain continued.

“Don’t worry dearie, knowing things is half of what I do. For example, I know that all of these “resting” people will be here for a very long time. But, don’t fret, for they will have you to keep them company.” With this, the Chaplain turned towards the exit once more. But he stopped for just a moment more to look back at the girl. Jessie returned the look with tear-filled eyes. As their eyes met the Chaplain grinned, turned, and continued his progression towards the doors.

Jessie was suddenly consumed with rage and with a cry of both anger and sorrow she ran from her pew and charged the Chaplain. As she drew close to the scoundrel, she reached out her hand to clasp at his coattails. Then suddenly she was overcome by an excruciating pain in her left arm. The pain overruled all other thoughts and she fell to the church floor with an agonizing cry. She looked at her arm to see the bran was now glowing red hot. The Chaplain turned and looked at her sprawled out on the floor before him.

“Don’t touch the coattails!” The Chaplain was notably antagonized when he said this. She looked up at him, tears in her eyes once more. With a quick spin the Chaplain turned again and walked towards the door. She could only watch him; she had no more energy. When he reached the oaken doors, he turned one more time and looked at her. “Don’t fret my dear, we are all destined for a purpose and yours has just begun.” The Green Chaplain gave one more gracious bow and passed through the large doors as they creaked on their rusty hinges behind him. Right before they closed again, Jessie saw the chaplain erupt in a burst of green smoke and ash. Out from this cloud flapped the barn owl from before, who great wings carried him up high. With an echoing, soul crushing thud, the doors closed shut.

Jessie stayed where she was, just trying to put together one thought that made any grain of sense. Springing to her feet, she ran to the doors and pulled at them with what little energy she still had. Just barely, she managed to open one of them and fell through to the other side. Looking up, she was about to cry out after him, to plead, to bargain. However, instead of seeing the small prairie town as usual, she was startled to see the church before her, as if she had just entered from the outside. Even though just coming from the inside. She slowly stood as a new, unfamiliar terror set in. It was the very same church as the one she had just left. The same people, the same choir singing the same tune again and again. Scared now, she hurriedly turned and ran back through the door she had just come from. Yet as she passed through it, she found herself still standing in the same church.

Jessie’s breath started to quicken. She franticly ran to one of the windows and peered through it, hoping to see the town she knew so well. Yet, just as with the doors, on the other side of the window was the very church she was in. But, the one thing she didn’t see, was he own reflection. Blinded by panic, she lashed out at the window with her fist, shattering a large enough portion of it so as to let her pass through. Without thinking she went through the window praying she would land on the dusty grass outside. But she did not, instead landing on the same cold stone floor of the church. Looking up she saw the window she had just passed through across from her on the other side of the church, still with the hole she had made. With rational thought still far above what she was capable of, she ran across the church and again passed through the window. But, as before, she was still in the church. Again, and again she attempted to escape, running from window to window in a frenzy. However, try as she might, she could not exit the accursed structure.

After an uncertain allotment of time had passed, and Jessie had thoroughly tired herself out, she collapsed before the pulpit at the front of the church. A sudden pain in her hand brought her back to whatever reality she now lived in. She looked down to see that the broken glass had cut her hand in several places. Jessie, bleeding, in pain, exhausted, and frightened, slowly sank to her knees as the choir continued to sing uninterrupted, unchanging, and unrelenting.

Jessie, shattered, hurt, and miserable, murmured the lines of the hymn in between sobs.

“He paid a debt He did not owe

I owed a debt I could not pay

I needed someone to wash my sins away,”

Jessie’s singing trailed off as she gave into the tears that were now flowing freely from her eyes.

The End.

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Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this story, and are hungry for more, head over to my podcast, “Campfire Yarns that Won’t Burn” (https://anchor.fm/seth-corry) to listen to more wacky tales!