Bless Me
By Douglas Hurt
Christopher sits alone in his box. He's been there
for days, it seems. No one comes to see me, he thinks.
A daddy-long-legs catches his attention in the corner.
My box! Christopher thinks. It crawls machine-like up
the wall; robotic legs moving independently. It pauses midway, perhaps
sensing Christopher's presence.
Strange music haunts the air, familiar yet disturbing.
A rush of guilt floods through him. The eerie organ sound reverberates
through his box.
Someone approaches!
Christopher holds his fetid breath, hoping they'll discover
him, break open the door that holds him in Hell. His heart thrashes.
They know I'm here, he thinks. He shivers though
the box is stifling hot. He cringes in the corner but desperately wants
to be found.
Did the door handle move? He watches intently.
His mind registers infinitesimal, excruciatingly slow movement. I'm uncovered!
Reflexively his hands cover his eyes as the door opens.
"Oh my God!" a woman cries out as he sits curled, nearly
naked on the wooden platform. Sunlight pierces his palms and sears
his eyeballs.
"Help!" the voice pleads.
Darkness. His delusions fade and he is alone in
his box; devoid of light save the sliver which cuts beneath the door.
The phantom woman is gone. No one stares down upon him with disgust.
He is not cast into burning sunlight to be stoned by the disgusted masses.
He is alone in his box, waiting for someone to talk to him like he's human,
to tell him stories of the outside world, perhaps to love him.
The leggy spider stares at him, contemplating Christopher's
oddness.
How strange, he thinks, a spindly-legged spider staring at me as if I were
a circus spectacle!
His hand shoots out like a viper, nabbing the bug. It's in his mouth
like a shot. The spider crunches between his teeth. Dark bile
creeps up his throat but he swallows both it and the bug, laughing like Renfield.
Organ music wafts into his box, luring him, reminding
him of decent things. He retches in the corner.
In the shrouded light, he examines his stomach's contents:
wood chips, green bile, cloth fibers and spider legs.
Someone approaches! He hears footsteps. He
holds his breath.
Maybe this person will talk to me. Perhaps talk
to me and tell me perverted stories of the outside world.
Christopher presses his ear against the wood, listening.
The person stands just outside, perhaps listening for him to say something
but…he can't.
The door next to his box creaks open. Christopher
bounces, anticipating a look at them.
The portal opens. The adjoining box is not as dark. He can see into
it. A woman occupies the box next to his! As beautiful a woman
as he's ever seen. His penis stiffens against his boxers. He
wants her. He must have her. As he peers at her from the darkness
of his soul, she speaks.
"Bless me Father, for I have sinned."
Father Christopher smiles.