[Summer Contest Entry 2016] Good Blessings

“This is a good a place as any,” Chris thought as he knocked on the door of one of the few houses intact around.

“Hello? How can I help you?” An old woman answered.

“Hello ma’am, I’m new around here. My name’s Chris, and I’m looking for a place to stay the night. Is there a cheap room that I can rent around here?”

“Oh you’re a traveler then? My my! It’s been a long time since someone has visited these parts! What brings you here?”

“Well, I used to own a little clinic, but since the war, nothing’s been the same. I’m a trader now, and if you need any medicine I have some I’m willing to part with.”

The old woman, easily in her 70s, let out a coarse laugh, “No don’t worry about me dear. I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’m sure there are others who have it much worse.”

A silence hung in the air, and the two of them spoke without words and while looking beyond one another. The somber mood resonated with the both of them, and they let a moment pass before the woman spoke up again.

“Oh I am so sorry, you said you were looking for a place to rest right? I’m afraid I can’t offer a room, but if you stop by the monastery, then I’m sure that Father Aman will help you.”

“I see. Where’s the monastery?” Chris said as he turned around to gaze across the overgrown mess of a former suburb. There was greenery covering broken and abandoned buildings everywhere.

“Follow the road and take a right at the intersection. You’ll cross a small bridge and the monastery will be in sight. Most places are abandoned, but the monastery is well kept. The Church helps anyone who is still here, so I’m sure they’ll help you as well.”

“I see. Thank you for your time,” Chris smiled and waved as he stepped down the porch.

“Wait,” The old woman called out, “I should let you know a couple things about this place.”

“First, the Church is well respected here. They help everyone. Please don’t cause them trouble.”

“Second, the community comes together for a dinner once a week at the monastery. If you stay for a while, I’m sure that we can afford to feed another mouth.”

“And third,” the woman spoke softly and with a gentle smile that was very characteristic of old women, “Bless your soul.” The woman then made the sign of the cross with her right hand touching her forehead, then her chest and then her shoulders.

Chris wore a look of slight confusion to which the old woman responded, “Ah, it’s just a saying around here. Something like a greeting and a thanks to the people who come here. Some of them can very rowdy and unpleasant, but I am glad that you weren’t.”

Chris smiled, said his farewells, and went on his way as the woman watched him as he left for the monastery. It was hidden from view due to all the forsaken buildings, but once he got past the small bridge it came in view. Along the road were a several houses that had people still living in them, though still only around the same condition as the old woman’s house.

One of the houses had a man tinkering with the hood of a car. Chris waved at him, to which the man smiled, waved back, and then did the sign of the cross while still looking at Chris. Chris still thought it was a very strange thing to do, but he moved on.

Once Chris arrived, he knocked on the door, but there was no answer. He knocked once again and called out, but there was still no answer. Normally, Chris would wait, but sky was beginning to dye itself shades of orange and violet so he decided to look around the building.

Chris followed a sidewalk that led to the back which revealed a massive garden. It was well organized and there were many types of vegetables being grown. It was surprising to Chris that someone was able to maintain such a massive garden. “No, it’s probably a community effort,” Chris thought to himself.

The garden aside, it was immediately apparent that no one was working the garden, but the sidewalk did lead to the back of the monastery where Chris found a backdoor. He knocked, but there was no answer. He tried to open the door, which to his surprise was unlocked. The lights were on inside and it was something of a storage room filled with various furniture as well as a plethora of gardening tools that lined the stone walls. There was a set of stairs that probably lead to the basement as well as several doors that probably lead into the monastery itself.

As he saw no one inside, he turned back, but before he could walk out he heard the squeak of a door opening. Chris was in an awkward spot, but decided it was better to just wait a moment.

A middle aged man wearing a white robe ascended the stairs from the basement. Chris assumed he was a priest, but his robe was not in the pristine condition that Chris had always imagined it should be. It was heavily soiled with splotches and shades of reddish-brown tainting in many places. The bottom was especially tattered and brown.

The man noticed Chris and with an alarmed voice he spoke, “Who’s there?! What do you want?!”

“Wait, I’m sorry! My name’s Chris, I’m a traveler. I knocked on the front and the back door, but no one answered.”

The man glared at Chris, “And so you decide to wait in the backroom of the building for someone?”

“Look, I went to look in the back if anyone was around, and I just wanted to check if anyone was inside, like putting tools away or something. I haven’t been in here for even a minute. Please, believe me!”

The man’s piercing gaze softened after a moment and he let out a sigh, “Alright. I believe you. You may call me Father Aman. I am the only person living in this monastery right now, so I hope you understand my suspicions. And as the Lord has taught, I forgive you as I hope you forgive me for casting you in such a light.”

The man exuded a quality and charisma that demanded respect and understanding. Swept by the man’s pace, Chris stumbled to find words, “Y-Yes, of course I do. It was uh, well- I’m sorry for trespassing.”

“Well, let us move on from this. So what brings you here?” The man asked as he casually began taking off his robe, which revealed a very clean black button-up shirt and black slacks that were only a bit tattered and stained towards the bottom. At a closer glance, it looked like it was glistening. Father Aman noticed Chris’ gaze at his pants and robe.

“Ah, as you might have seen in the back, we have a garden here. We try our best to grow our own produce as well as slaughter our livestock. It is messy work, but it is work that the Lord has given us.”

Associating such work with a priest caused a dissonance in Chris’ mind, but Chris knew if there was ever a time to be pragmatic it would be now. Chris could not help, but respect the man before him.

Chris nodded understandably, “To answer your question though, I was looking for a place to stay the night.”

“Why, I would be more than happy to. Travelers like you come very often, and this place is not just a place of prayer, but a place where sins are absolved. It is a place where anyone can seek solace.”

With the Father’s permission, Chris left his fairly dirty belongings in the storage room and then followed Father Aman into an enormous wide open space that could be compared to a mansion’s living room. The stone walls, the domineering pillars and statues, the elegant light fixtures, the massive paintings all looked like something out of the Renaissance.

“Impressive isn’t it? This place was built for devout aristocrats several hundred years ago apparently.” The Father stopped at a flight of stairs, “You may stay in any of the rooms on the left side. Of course all the rooms in this place are vacant other than my own, but I have not succinctly prepared any of the other rooms. If you need, I will be on the first floor, in the kitchen to the left. I insist that you join me- in fact I will not take no for an answer.”

He left without letting Chris get a word in. With nothing left to do, Chris decided to head up and into the first room to the left of the stairs. The room was very neat, though small. There was a bed, a mirror, a desk, and there were several books, though half of them were either versions of the bible in different languages or hymn collections. Chris picked up a bible and flipped through random passages. While doing so, he remembered that Father Aman had not greeted him the way the people in the neighborhood did.

It wasn’t long before Father Aman knocked on Chris’s door and invited him down to eat. They sat at a table in the living where Father Aman served Chris beef stew with some red wine.

“Is it okay for a priest to be drinking wine like this?”

“Times are tough, and besides, you are supposed to drink to celebrate. You coming here is probably enough,” Father Aman let out a laugh. “Before we eat though, I’d like to say prayers if that’s fine with you.”

Chris nodded. He didn’t know any prayers so he simply watched.

“Bless us Lord, and these thy gifts, which we are about to receive, from thy bounty, through Christ, Our Lord. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen.”

Father Aman finished with the sign of the cross. Then, the two of them began eating.

“By the way, Father, I noticed some of the people in the neighborhood were giving me the sign of the cross. Do you know what’s up with that?”

The man mulled over the thought, “Well they were probably blessing you. Just like how I just asked the Lord to bless the food we are eating. They assume that they will not see you again, so it’s their way of saying farewell.”

“That’s a little strange, but okay. Also, when’s the last time someone’s been here anyways?”

“There were a couple of people who came last week that were trading in medicine. They said they were headed west. There was also a gruff soldier that caused quite the commotion. They all stopped by here though, and in time they were nice enough to help the neighborhood a bit before leaving.”

“I see,” Chris said as he was about to drink the wine. He stopped though. The acrid smell was powerful and pierced his sinuses. He was no stranger to alcohol, but the wine’s smell had a lingering familiar scent. As if it was steeped in metal, an almost rust-like smell emanated from the liquid. It was wine that was far too old to be drinking. He ended up finishing the meal without touching the wine feigning a weakness to liquor.

He went back upstairs afterwards, and though tired, he picked up the bible he was reading once again. He flipped through the pages randomly before he saw a note that dropped. He picked it up and on it was only one word:

†˜Run’

Looking at the note, Chris felt uneasy and a bit alarmed. It was probably a prank by a child or another traveler, but ever since he came to the Church, he had been feeling unnerved, especially after talking to Father Aman. Chris decided to get some medicine to help him sleep and calm his rising headache. Walking out of his room, he backtracked his way to the storage room with only the moonlight to guide him.

Once there, he rummaged through his backpack and as he was looking for his medicine, he could smell something in the air. It was the same smell that lingered with the wine—a metallic rust-like smell, but it was much stronger. Chris wanted to know where it was coming from, and it didn’t take long to trace it to the stairs leading downwards from the storage room.

Chris opened the door slowly. It lead to a hall and then into another short set of stairs that descended once again. Chris flipped a switch which dimly lit the hall. Unlike the rest of the building this place smelled rancid, and smelled progressively worse the deeper he ventured the darker the hall became. At the end of the hall was another door, which he opened.

He couldn’t see, but he could hear the sound of his steps splashing water, and the distinct buzzing in the air. Despite the alarms in his body screaming at him to flee, he was too deep and too curious. He felt along the walls and flipped a switch that illuminated the room.

There was blood everywhere. Not only blood, but there were bodies slung against the wall. There were arms, and legs and fingers, and torsos all strewn about the floor. Dried blood painted the walls in an erratic frenzy. Flies swarmed over the rotten flesh that was scattered about and littered with maggots. On the floor was a pool of blood that had stained Chris’ shoes and dotted the hem of his pants. Against the wall was a wooden table with a cutting board and a kitchen knife. Pieces of skin and flesh sprawled over the cutting board and table.

“Holy fucking shit,” Chris whispered. He stepped back in shock, disgust, and in terror. He could no longer contain the fear that pulsated through his body. He turned to run, but right in front of him he was a man that towered over him.

Chris stared in horror at the man. He knew who it was, but despite the black button-up shirt and the black slacks, the man’s demeanor and aura were nothing like before. Father Aman stood in front of Chris with eyes full of bloodlust and scorn looking down at him. Chris felt powerless, words could not even escape him. He wanted to scream, but the crazed eyes that looked down on him choked him; it was hard for Chris to even breathe. A crippling sensation ran down his spine and he fell to his knees.

Chris looked up at the living embodiment of malevolence, which made the sign of the cross with its right hand.

Tears escaped from Chris as his voice creaked out, “H-Have… mercy.”

“Bless your soul.”

Now I understand the reason why the protagonists in any horror movie need to be very stupid for the horror to work. Usually these movies need to drop hints that something is amiss but our stupid leads will fail to notice or pick up those hints. This helps to build up to the climax where something terrible happens to our heroes in the end.

I felt that there is a lack of buildup or foreshadowing in that entry although I see attempts to set up the horrifying ending through the use of the hand gestures used by the villagers as a greeting. There must be a few hints but I missed them. The whole entry appears to be how the traveller came to the village where he was treated well and out of the blue without warning he was killed. It feels like someone describing how a fatal accident occurred. Unpleasant but not scary. If more effort was made to make the tone of the entry more sinister like describing how uncomfortable the traveller felt or how eerie the village despite its appearance felt, I might feel horror. Dropping hints that something is amiss helps too.

Were the villagers are in cahoots with Aman to sacrifice the poor traveller? I have a few guesses of what is going on but it is much better if you told me why the villagers made those hand signs, why they have those farms, what is up with the wine and why there is a human slaughterhouse. If the ending joined the dots and explained the trap that our hero walked into, it might help to make the entry more horrifying. It isn't really scary to know that our hero is dead in the end. For me, what is more scary are the circumstances of his death and the motivations of his murderers. To illustrate my point, JFK dying of old age (or saying that he is dead) is not as intriguing or scary as him being assassinated under the orders aof LBJ.

PS: Aman is just one man really. Why can't our hero fight back or run away? Hard to picture Aman chopping up our hero without restraining him.

PPS: Heard that Jesus isn't against drinking wine.

I'll start off by saying this topic was pretty tricky for me. Several days to think up something decent, several days to write, a day or two to edit, and the work produced was a still caliber below what I think some of my other writings are. I don't personally think I'm too compatible with horrors and mysteries, but it was interesting to write at least.

You are right about a lot of things. I agree that there was a lack of foreshadowing and setup. Originally this was well over 3000 words, but cutting some if it down watered down the setting and the internal struggles the protagonist had. It is what it is though, I won't make excuses; I'm not sure how much better I could have done.

And now to answer some questions:

• Yeah the villagers were in cahoots. The old lady screws up by saying there had been no travelers recently, but that's revealed to be false. She also alludes to the village having dinners at the church because she wants him to stick around.

• In Christianity, you pray before you eat to bless your food and give thanks. The villagers make the sign of the cross to bless their food. They know he's an outsider that is going to get slaughtered. This is also why Father Aman does not do the sign of the cross when they meet, but right before he kills the protagonist.

• The wine is not old like Chris first assumes. It is steeped with blood. If you let blood sit for a while, it will begin to smell like iron.

• The farms are only there to show that the village is self sustained for the most part. They grow their own produce, but as for the meat...

• The slaughter room set up in the basement/cellar is where Father Aman gets his meat. He kills travelers for meat, which is the meat used in the stew I might add.

Learning that the village is actually Christian Cannibal village is much more disturbing and horrifying then our hero pleading for mercy and getting chopped up. Wonder if you agree.

I have read too many history books, too many newspaper articles and watched too many movies to be horrified at an old man hacking someone with a cleaver. It is a bit funny too come to think of it.

I would like to be funny here. Jonathan Swift's "A Modest Proposal" comes to mind. It is horrifying but isn't that a rather inefficient way of sourcing for human flesh?

Hmmm... in contrast to leonard, I feel like the hints were way too obvious. To me, it was quite predictable and I picked up every single hint you mentioned in your comment. The touch 'helping the neighbourhood before leaving' was especially good.

I don't think this is a bad thing, it was great for building up because the whole while I was just going 'shit, I know how this is going to end, they're going to kill him.' I didn't deduce that they were cannibals, however I definitely had my suspicions and I just think there was a lack of hinting towards them actually eating their victims. The drinking blood thing could have been associated with vampirism rather than cannibalism.

All in all, I liked your entry. I believe it could have started better by establishing the setting properly rather than throwing us into a conversation in a random town, but the buildup more than made up for it.

Truth to be told, I think anyone who knows the contest themes will know that he will die in the end. What I didn't pick up are the hints on why he had to die and how they will kill him.

Speaking of the blood he was served, I thought that Aman is going to intoxicate or poison him! Blood is a delicacy and sort of a health supplement in some parts of the world! William Bligh claimed to have drunk pigeon blood after the mutiny where he and some men were set adrift on sea.

An interesting tale, one heard before, but not without effect. Your description of scenes unfolding did well to draw in the desire to read on. The mystery was faint, not too much to figure, and no supernatural elements present, but the horror was absolutely frightful in the last bit. Well done with this piece overall. A few errors to keep a look out for in the future, however.



"as good a place"



I don't think that comma is needed there.



Why are these paragraphs separate from the first? The same woman is speaking with no break at all between. I would combine them into one paragraph.



"Some of them can be very rowdy"



Remove the "a."



"but the sky was beginning"



I don't think the "in" is necessary there.



I think "enormous, wide, open space" or "enormous, wide-open space" might be more appropriate. Either way, commas are needed for multiple adjectives.



All of these mentions of "bibles" need to be capitalized because it is a proper noun.



"in the living room"



"Amen" is not capitalized.



I believe "led" is the proper past tense form here.