One Million Project Magazine

Niccolo could feel himself trembling and he
knew the man was right.
He shouldn’t have come out here alone. He
shouldn’t have left the car and Father Reynolds.
It was the middle of the night, he was alone,
and something was very, very wrong.
It had stopped raining, but that was little consolation.
At least the rain had dulled the sound
and everything didn’t sound so…crisp. His
breathing, his slight movements, the way the
rosary clipped against his teeth as it rattled.
It was over. He was going to die. He should at
least face it like a man.
A man of God.
He forced his legs to move and stand up, stepping
out from under the stairs to confront his
pursuer. It was dark in the basement and everything
was in shadows, but he could see the
man’s face.
A scar ran from his ear down his cheek to his
jawline. He had a scrabbly brown beard but it
didn’t hit it at all. He was wearing a red trucker
hat and overalls, but that wasn’t what caught
the Priest’s attention. He couldn’t see past the
man’s eyes, the way they were dull and dead,
empty.
‚There you are,‛ the man said, grinning and
baring his teeth. He looked more feral than
anything. ‚Ready to meet your maker?‛
Father Paladina opened his mouth to speak, to
pray, but no sounds would come out. His voice
had abandoned him, the words he’d practiced
for years caught in his throat.
‚What? Cat got your tongue?‛ the man asked,
stepping closer to him and still grinning his
insane grin.
‚Vile abomination, you don’t belong here. By
the power of Christ I compel you,‛ the priest
muttered, taking a step back. He held up his
rosary, hand still shaking. ‚In the name of the
Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.‛
The man stopped moving forward, his grin fading.
‚You compel me?‛
Copyright © 2016 by OMP Magazine Publishing