Fiction: The Communion

April 22, 2016 Fiction , POETRY / FICTION

By

Augustine Malizu

 

 

‘The Lord be with you,’ the heavenly voice of Fr. Dominic echoed and reverberated in Silvano’s ears. It felt like he was in the presence of the Almighty. ‘And with your spirit,’ the congregation answered.

‘A reading from the holy Gospel according to Mark,’ the Priest sang further.

‘Glory be to You, Lord,’ the congregation sang in response while crossing their foreheads, lips and chests.

‘The Gospel of the Lord according to Mark,’ Fr. Dominic began to read out from the scripture. Silvano loved to listen with rapt attention to his Gospels and homilies. He was a great preacher and had a sonorous voice that was akin to that of an angel.

The crucifix of Christ that hung on the wall behind Fr. Dominic had a different skin complexion, different from the normal fair complexioned Christ with a long hair that was known by all. The Christ was dark in complexion, naked except for a small piece of clothing covering his private parts.

He looked alive and breathing laboriously. The open cut by his side oozed out fresh blood dripping down to his feet and smearing the floor. His face was bruised beyond recognition; fresh crimson liquid doused his face. His hands and feet were nailed to the cross, they still oozed out blood. He cried out; ‘My Lord! My Lord! Why have you forsaken me?!’

It was now time for consecration. The priest strode to the body hung on the cross. He brought out a blood stained saw and began to saw the body’s Achilles tendon. His other hand produced a shining chalice cup with which he used to fetch the flowing blood that gushed out from his cut tendon. He winced in pain and cried out louder. Silvano felt the pain too.

The priest raised the cup to the congregation and proclaimed, ‘take this all of you and drink from him. This is the cup of his blood, the blood of the new and everlasting covenant. It would be shared for the forgiveness of sins and longevity of our afterlife. Do this in memory of him.’ He drank from the cup and ushered the congregation to come forth and fetch from the blood that gushed out from his back heel, ‘it’s time for holy communion. It’s only for those who had died and had resurrected in communion with the blood of the lamb,’ he spoke.

Silvano fidgeted on his seat, he couldn’t believe what he had witnessed. A mass in the underworld? Could it be that I’m dead? he thought. His eyes prowled round the church to realise that he was in the midst of ghosts; pale-faced ghosts, some had no heads, some had their heads in their hands, some had missing body parts while some hovered in the air like a piece of fluffy feather.

He heard a voice beside him, ‘aren’t you going for communion?’ he turned and saw a rotten face of a lady, her left eye covered with pus that dripped down to her cheek. Her skull was open; eaten up. He could see her pulsating brain which had maggots crawling in and out of her rotten cheek.

The face had no body supporting it. It was seated on the headrest of a pew. ‘Hey, help me get to the altar to drink from the blood of eternity,’ it spoke, ‘my body is in the other cemetery. I will get to it one day and begin to help myself to wherever I want to go. Hey, you look fresh and different, how did you make it down here with complete body parts?’ the face enquired.

Silvano sat transfixed on the pew, fear had taken what was left of him. He couldn’t find the words to utter. The voice shrilled out, ‘we have a human here!’

The communion ceased! The congregation of ghosts paused and turned to where the voice had come from. Silvano froze as all scary eyes fixated at him. He wanted to run but his feet dug deep into the ground. Suddenly he started sinking deep while the congregation of ghosts scampered towards him. He stood there helpless, praying for a miracle, to save him from his predicament and then it came; the face flew to him and dug its fang on his jugular, the redemption came; he blacked out.

*************

He woke up on a freshly dug out grave, naked except for his boxers. The gravestone was emblazoned with the writing that made him shiver;

“Silvano Antonio

1988-2016″

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Augustine Malizu

Augustine Malizu is a Storyteller who derives passion in writing and reading. He has written a number of short stories and flash fictions alongside poems. He believes in developing the world through literature.

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