Bradbury Heights: V - Father, Mother!

Father Fleischer padded softly afoot the slate stone stairwell of Saint Andrew’s Cathedral, smoothly stepping straightway towards the upper sanctum where Mother Superior Judith Von Engle would surely be sweeping through her morning studies. The bite of the dawn’s gentle patters of rain had swiftly given way to the lustrous sun now bleeding through the slotted windows of the Cathedral stairway, but Father Fleischer did not require the meager light to guide his feet.

For the last 38 years the old priest had trod the hollow hallways of Saint Andrew’s and ministered to the Sisters of Mercy next door at the Chapel Hill Convent. There were no longer any secrets or mysteries to the hoary stonework around him. Even if he was actually going blind (thus far the doctor had merely recommended the more frequent usage of his squarish spectacles) he seriously doubted whether his pace or posture through the abbey would be impeded. Upon reaching the solid wooden door to the upper sanctum Father Fleischer paused, considering again the sensation he had experienced earlier this pittery morning.

He was already awake, as usual, an hour before sunrise, carefully situated upon his knees in reverent prayer. Repeatedly reciting rosaries had long since lost their charm and over the years Father Fleischer had taken to a deeper, more introspective approach to the ordeal. It was here, kneeling in the predawn light of his private chambers that he had learned to unveil the greater mysteries of God. Charity, Service, Power, Creation. All these words he understood with exceeding clarity. Love, however, the greatest commandment, was still ever so elusive. It had been in this moment of quiet contemplation when Father Fleischer had felt it.

It wasn’t the first time; no, he was far to experienced for that, a gentle rising in the bosom, a sensation of weightlessness, like walking underwater. He listened, he strained to hear the images swirling in his mind. The forest… but it was too murky in the scant morning glow, the sun’s beams barley had begun to ascend and scatter light through the canopy of leaves. What was clear to the Father was the distinct impression of fear. Fear and death.

Breaking away from this semi-trance Father Fleischer gasped for breath as if the air had been knocked out of his lungs. Hobbling to his feet, feeling older then he should have liked, the priest made his way to the only window in his cell and cast his gaze out, searching the woodland that surrounded Saint Andrew’s like the an ocean. He was not looking to see, but to feel. Unfortunately, the sensation had already passed. Father Fleischer cursed softly under his breath and promptly forgave himself. Trouble was abrewing.

His concerns were confirmed soon enough by the sound of sirens racing along the Abbey Road to what was undoubtedly the scene that had vaguely played out across his mind only a few short hours ago. Father Fleischer was nagged by the thought that young Harriet had not reported for her daily duties yet, and briefly considered that it had been the poor girl, but he soon deduced otherwise. The phone call from Harriet’s own father verified this, informing the old priest that Harriet would not be coming to work today. She must have been the one to discover the… incident. Whoever the unfortunate victim was, this certainly did not bode well for anyone in Bradbury Heights.

Father Fleischer sighed quietly grasping the iron handle of the door and pushed his way inside with authority. Mother Superior Judith Von Engle, decrepit and emaciated, sat on a rickety wooden stool that surely had to be the most uncomfortable seat in the abbey. Without taking her eyes from the voluptuous tome in her lap the head of the Sisters of Mercy addressed the Father with surprising vigor in her speech.

“I expected you here sooner considering what hell has unleashed upon us.” So she knows as well.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves Mother Von Engle. Nothing can be proven yet.”

She scoffed and waggled a finger at the old priest, this time looking at him with those dead grey eyes “You should know better than to try the patience of the Lord. If evil exists under your domain then the blood of the innocent saints will cry out against you from the dust at the Day of Judgment.”

Father Fleischer scowled and turned aside. He had not come here to be reprimanded by this ‘Mother of Mercy’.  “If there is true evil here, then I will see that it is cast out and destroyed.”

Mother Von Engle only laughed, nearly cackling. Father Fleischer continued to glower. If there was indeed true evil here it was more prayer, not loud laughter, that was required.