Visions and Deceptions

Father Samuel poured a glass of velvety red fluid from his liquor cabinet, planning to relax after a long day of guiding lost souls. He fell back into his armchair; an ornate, expensive piece of furniture which had been donated by the town’s mayor. It caught him, the tailored chair hugging his tired body, and Father Samuel felt his eyes growing heavy. He raised the glass to his lips, revelling in the strong taste, enjoying the way the warm liquid slid down his throat. He recounted the successes of his day; helping a young teacher deal with a troublesome student, consoling a man whose baby had perished, and correcting a woman who was unhappy with her husband. There was always something going on in the newly settled town, and the priest was pleased to be of service. But, for now, he was glad to just relax.

His moment of peace didn’t last long though. On only his third sip of the velvety liquid, an old woman burst through his cottage door. She didn’t knock and didn’t announce herself; the woman just crashed into the room, panting. She was clearly in a state of despair.

“Father Samuel!” She cried. When the woman finally stood still, he could recognise her as Doris, the town’s baker. “I’ve seen something dreadful!”

“What is it, Doris?” He gently placed the glass on the floor, pushing himself from the armchair. Father Samuel forced his eyes to remain open, though they were threatening to close at any moment, and approached the distressed woman. He placed a steady hand on her shoulder, holding Doris’ shaking form until her breaths grew steady. She took her time, but finally raised her frightened eyes to his and told her story.

“I was in bed, trying to go to sleep, but I couldn’t. Something just wasn’t right in the air, I could sense it.” She swallowed, a lump catching in her throat. “Then all at once I saw an image behind my eyelids. But it wasn’t a dream, Father, I wasn’t sleeping. I wasn’t!”

“I believe you.” He rubbed her arm, both as a way to comfort Doris and as a way to keep his tired body upright. “The Lord often sends us visions. What did you see?”

“I was in a big city, bigger than any city in the world! There were carriages that moved without horses, and amazing lights everywhere -of all different colours and shapes- but not a gas plug or candle flame in sight!” Her voice lingered in the air for a second, as if she was waiting for him to claim her madness. Father Samuel only nodded, prompting Doris to continue.

“A shining orb fell from the sky, right into the city. And monsters climbed out of it! There was a man whose skin was covered in thick, dark fur, and his mouth and nose looked like a dog’s muzzle! There was a woman who grabbed a stranger from the street, and bit into her neck as if it were perfectly normal. There was a little girl, she flew up into the sky! And a scaled man, as if he climbed right out of the ocean. They kept emerging from the orb, Father Samuel, monsters from the depths of hell itself. And one woman, she looked right at me and said… this is your future. Am I going to be killed by demons, Father, am I?”

“Doris,” he said calmly, “you musn’t ponder on this vision.” He wrapped his arms around the old woman, resting her chin on his shoulder so that she could not see his face. “I do not believe this vision is meant to be taken literally. Though not a dream, it is similar in that it uses riddles and metaphors.” He stared at the glass of red liquid on the floor, a shiver running down his spine. “You must try to interpret it, and I’m sure you’ll realise that it means something rather mundane. Perhaps you are growing anxious about this new settlement, and the monsters represent your fears?”

“Per… perhaps,” she whimpered into his shoulder, “I suppose that’s possible. It makes sense, Father.” He felt the baker’s heart beat slowing against his chest, and her frantic breathing once again return to its normal pace. This was his job, to put the people’s minds at peace, to guide them out of distressing dilemmas. Even if it was not possible to do so for himself.

“Go home, Doris, back to bed. When you wake up, try to understand what your vision really means. Understand why your mind has conjured these images.”

“Alright.” She pulled away from his embrace, and Father Samuel stiffened his expression, not wanting her to notice his widened eyes. “Thank you, Father, I’m sorry I disturbed you.”

“Your apology is accepted.” He forced a smile, and folded his hands behind his back, watching until Doris pulled the cottage door closed behind her. Alone again, Father Samuel slumped back down in his armchair, burying his face in the cloth. He muttered a confession to The Lord; he hadn’t been truthful to Doris. He didn’t believe her vision was full of rituals and metaphors. He was certain the baker was a seer, unbeknown to herself, and that she had seen the future. How far, he couldn’t tell, but if wolf-men, flyers and his own kin were wreaking havoc on humans… walking the earth without hiding their true identities… that meant something bad was to happen. And the orb falling from the sky? What catastrophic event could that be foreshadowing?

“Bless us all, Father, protect us all.” He picked up his glass of red liquid, raised it to the heavens, and poured the remaining fluid down his throat. The warm, velvety blood did little to relax him.