Dance With The Devil

“We must learn to face our fears. Meet what terrifies us most head on. This strengthens the body, mind, and soul, my son. It is for this reason I am sending you to the town of Rapture. You will do much good there and the heathens’ souls will be saved. God gave man dominion over the animal kingdom and as man worships the one, true God, God is in control of what befalls mankind. God will reward a believing farmer with the rain he sorely needs to save his harvest. God will punish a non-believing farmer with a drought to remind him that the wages of sin are death. There is nothing He cannot accomplish. Man is made in the image of God, you understand, so we must believe just as strongly in ourselves.”

“What have I done, Reverent Blythe? I have prayed here at the rectory each day. I have given away most of my possessions. I have not distracted myself with the sorts of things men my age have outside the rectory – tobacco, whiskey, and the like. Why I am being punished with reassignment?“

"You are a good man, Walter. I’ve nothing critical to say of your daily habits. We just feel it’s high time you put your faith into action. You will be doing the Lord’s work. Even He did not spend all his time praying and reading at the temple or sweeping the floors.”

“Then I’ll work twice as hard! I’ll—“

“No, Walter. There is much good that can come from your time in Rapture. We’ve noticed a pallor lately that can easily be cured with fresh air -- brisk exercise, even. We’ve even caught you daydreaming a time or two.” The head pastor smiled slightly and placed a hand on his shoulder like a knowing father.

Blythe flushed and ran fingers whose nails he scrubbed and trimmed to a fault through his short brown hair. He himself had chosen this vocation. Five years ago as a younger man he’d felt that serving the church was the right decision. It meant a structured schedule with little fluctuation, never having to worry about pocket money for meals, a continuation of the joy he felt praising the Lord, and never succumbing to the disease and death as many young men his age had from one vice or another. During church services or visits from those who worked for charities, Walter could distract himself by focusing on the sermon, misbehaving children in the pews, snoring old men, or some task for which he had volunteered. The younger Walt would have been overjoyed that all but a few of the members of the church were elderly, quite young, or already attached to some young suitor. The Walt of late could only sigh and contemplate on the fact that men in the church were encouraged to find a wife and raise a family but men as involved as he was with church activities found little time or opportunity to look a young lady in the eye, much less know how to court one. The Bible said man ought to “be fruitful and multiply” but some men had obviously taken this commandment a little too seriously and burdened the world.

The train from the rectory to the station in Rapture was a relatively quiet ride. He could see men in their brown or black business suits reading the newspaper or absentmindedly chewing on pencils while trying to complete crossword puzzles, Sodukus, or writing down clever phrases for the pending business meeting. There were a few men in military garb and a few young men and women who seemed to be coming home from college. Walter was close enough to hear snippets of conversations and fatigue had not yet set in, despite the wheels gliding over the tracks and the pastoral view outside his window of lush fields, oak trees in bloom, and the occasional cow or horse.

“He didn’t!” a young student said, clapping a hand to her mouth and giggling.

“Yes, Mabel, “just reached out and squeezed it like he was testing a mango for ripeness. I was shocked at first, but then –“

“And so, in cone-clusion…. stupid, Kevin! Stupid, stupid, stupid!” A business man balled up a sheet from a yellow legal pad and tossed it behind him with a sigh. It bounced off of Walter’s leg and he knelt to pick it up and hand it back to Kevin. He cleared his throat and passed it to him tentatively, and Kevin grimaced sheepishly.

“Sorry if I disturbed you….er….Father. I got a speech to make for Baskin-Robbins and ending on a corny joke sounds so clichéd, so, pardon my French, shitty.”

“What if you said something about how you’re the little guy in a world of big corporations, almost as if you have a neopolitan complex?” He winked. Kevin laughed politely and nodded. “Maybe,” he said. He held out his hand and Walter shook it amiably.

“Walter. Walter Keyes. And I’m not a ‘father.’

“At least not yet anyways!” Kevin cackled, and clapped Walt on the back. Walt rubbed the back of his neck and looked out the window. A large gust

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Bildmaterialien: Brian Raia
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 18.11.2014
ISBN: 978-3-7368-5676-9

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Widmung:
For those who would believe in me.