Story for the Day: A Tenebrous Friendship

Churches in Frewyn are a relatively safe place, where anyone in want of shelter and rest can find comfort and assistance. Churches in another realm, however, though they might offer shelter, might not offer the same ease an assurance to all:

Evening came to the abbey, and amidst the prayers and lamentations finishing for the day, the abbot, after having spent the better part of the afternoon telling the Lord how much he hated himself for his sake, and after a firm round of contrition on account of some questionable thoughts regarding the abbess’ thighs, it was time for the abbot to enjoy a frigid steep in the basin and a gentle doze on his stone slab. There was nothing so good for the soul as suffering, and as the abbot championed the good in feeling atrocious and recommended misery as good for the health, he could hardly wait to suffer again before bedtime.

                The moon nestled in one of the corners of the window, and the abbot exclaimed that God sent the strident nacreous light to plague him even further, which he thanked him for, wincing in the anguish of knowing that God had blessed him with a difficult night of sleep. He settled into the depression in his stone slab, his back already aching, and just was drifting off when a shade passed over his eyes. It was only for a moment, but it was enough to awaken him, the sudden flickering moving in front of the light catching his consciousness more than his attention. He saw nothing but the moon, its full presence bearing down on him, casting an oddly shaped shadow on the floor beside him. He turned and looked, investigating his outline from the corner of his eye, and just as he was about to close his eyes again, a slender black bine reached up from the shadow and touched the end of his nose.

                “GAH!” the abbot cried, sitting up and recoiling. “WHAT IS THAT—WHAT IS THAT?”

                Two tendrils penetrated the outline—they were pulling something up from the shadow and lifting it from the ground. An amorphous shade peeled itself from the floor, and once had plumed a bit and had taken shape, it made a friendly gesture and waved at him.

                “’Awllo, abbot!” said the shade. “Err—it is the abbot, innit?”

                It paused, waiting for an answer. The abbot began frothing.

                “NO NO NO NO NO,” he gnashed, thrashing about. “OUT, OUT, FOUL CREATURE! BEGONE! I CALL UPON GOD TO RID OF YOU!”

                He cast his hand up and out, calling upon the Infinitude of the Lord to smite the evil intruder, but the co-walker only touched his hand with a murky tendril and emanated a churlish “Hur, hur, hur!”

                Brother Vindimir and Brother Crannach were walking in the corridor, having just come in from putting the orphans to bed. The children had begged Crannach for one more—only one more—story before sleep, demanding to hear about how Paudrig had chased all snakes from the island, though there had never been any, and how Brigid had got her cow with the roan ears, when Sister iarlaith had come in to offer them some warm milk and peach resin, allowing the two brothers to make their escape. They were walking from the children’s dormitory to their own bedrooms, admiring the moonlit night and the tranquility it furnished when a gurgling cry echoed toward them from the other end of the hall.

                “GET IT OFF ME—GET IT OFF!”

                They turned, and under the dim glow of the few rushlights constellating along the walls, they saw the abbot, barreling toward them with arms flailing.

                “IT TOUCHED ME! IT’S IN MY SHADOW—GET IT OUT!”

                They heard a guttural “Hur hur hur!”, and the shadows along the wall danced and thrummed. The abbot flapped and floundered, waving at nothing, and the two brothers hastened over to him only to find him shooing at his own shadow.

                “Get off—pff pffffff—” blowing fierce at his shadow, “Oh, thank God—Did you see it? Did you see that monstrous demon? It attacked me and then it looked as though it flew into my—but I saw it fly off out here.”

                “What did, abbot?” Crannach asked.

                “That THING—That shadow beast! Did you see it? It waved at me and tormented me!”

                “Ah, ‘tis probablae onlae Ozzy, come in fae the graves again. Ye know how he is when it’s the full moon. His bones get a wee bit chillae and start clackin’ at this time o’ the year.”        

                “It was not that godforsaken walking skeleton! It was a shadowy creature with all manner of arms and legs—IT TOUCHED ME. It put its disgusting tendrils out and touched my nose!”

                The abbot, agitated from a kind of suffering he did not like, began sniveling.

                The brothers glanced at one another, sharing the same feeling but keeping it to themselves. They consoled the abbot, said all that was proper and placating, reconciling him to the notion that whatever it was had probably already gone, and returned him to his room, tucking him in and cooing at him to ‘go to sleep and it will all be better in the morning’, but somewhere, in a corner of the abbey, wedged between the mirk and moonlight, the shadows flickered, their animation marked by a fleeting gust and a tenebrous hur hur hur, the sound of a one who was glad to have made a new friend and glad to have found a new home it would certainly not be leaving by morning.