My Step Father Is A Demon- A #finishthestory Entry

Ora et Labora

A fiction short prompt by @f3nix, based on real happenings

The tapered fingers came to life, maneuvered by invisible threads, following the murderous order whispered by the woman. The blow fell on the victim, surgical and impregnated with inevitable fate.

"We took it, Agnes."

Finally, the peace of the monastery's kitchen had been restored. A fleeting veil of reproach slipped over the cook's cheerful gaze as Flynn swore triumphantly at the fly, spread on his notebook.

"But now let's get back to our business, barley soup doesn't cook itself and ... not even your thesis".

"It's a nice association, even if it's my brain to cook," said the young man with his eyes shining curiously between the pots.

"If Father Thoram saw us wasting time chasing flies, you already know he'd send you to the library," the cook remarked.

Flynn threw her an accomplice grimace, before returning to dive into the pages of his thesis. No, all in all, the friar would not have thrown him out of the kitchen so easily.
Agnes could not have known what long walks in the cloister's rose garden had slowly revealed to his confessor father. That laborious daily harmony had a different taste for Flynn than what his other contemporaries of the Benedictine community felt.

Flynn sighed as the words drifted slowly from the pages, evaporating intertwined in his thoughts. Every moment, every little ritual within the silent walls of the monastery was like prickly air that swelled his lungs, giving him life. Those were precious moments far from the creature who, just two blocks away, waited every night for satisfying once more his craving for pain. Far from his stepfather.

The echoes of vespers suffused in his ears: soon the refectory would have been populated. It was almost time to help Agnes set the tables.

While books and notebooks were swallowed up by the backpack in random order, Flynn found himself thinking of that strange event months ago, when he was still an occasional guest of the monks' community. There was, indeed, another reason why he preferred to study among the noise of the pans. He would have never wanted to see that internet page, hastily closed but clear enough to impress itself deeply into his retina. All in all, the friar would not have thrown him out of the kitchen so easily.

"Flynn."

The backpack fell, spilling its content onto the floor.

"Son, follow me, Agnes can set her own."

Father Thoram didn't even seem to have noticed the mountain of papers scattered on the brown tiles. Standing out from the sagging features of his face, his eyes looked blacker than usual.

Flynn gathering his papers, stuffed them into his backpack and hurried after Father Thoram. This break in routine was rare. He knew Father Thoram to be painstakingly organized, always. Something had disturbed the old man and Flynn knew he was involved somehow. Father Thoram led Flynn to his sparse office and sat behind the desk, gesturing for Flynn to sit.

"Son, I know you think that I betray my vows everyday. and I would not take the pain to correct you but for this.. emergency."

Flynn sat alert and still. This was definitely not normal for the heavy handed old man. Father Thoram took a deep breath and continued.

"Let me state what I think is your opinion- A voyeur and of the worst kind. A pig headed, conceited loser who takes shelter behind the cloth. Your expression tells me I am not far off the mark, Flynn."

Flynn closed his mouth and looked away, a mix of confusion and reticence.

"Son, whatever you think, I am not stupid enough not to notice your expressions and your unintended abhorrence. That is why I think your thesis is going so well. You want to rid of me and the monastery also, if I am not mistaken." Father Thoram stopped talking as a thought suddenly bloomed in his mind.

"You do believe in God, don't you?"

Flynn, off- guard, sputtered in a burst of indignation. "Yes! Yes! B.. But not as you preach it!"

"Well Flynn, now don't be surprised. And please have a little patience." Father Thoram then removed his skull cap and then his wig. He bent upon the table showing Flynn his bare head.

Flynn was too shocked to react. Though the sight of two sawn off horns on the old man's head was too unreal to close his eyes or shift his gaze away. After a few moments Father Thoram put his wig and cap back and sagged into his chair looking tired and old.

"Flynn, I am showing this to you so that you will believe what I have to say. I am not human, or not completely human. My mother was probably raped by a high demon or a fallen one. I however was raised by god fearing men although they saw what I was. So here I am, living the God's word in a monastery as much as I can. But coming to the point. I am a researcher of sorts and my work takes me to the... darker areas, I can see and understand the familiar hand of darkness. And what I came to know yesterday needs your immediate attention. You Flynn are like me- not completely human."

Flynn raised a hand to check his scalp and blurted out. "You are mistaken. I am.."

"No Flynn, I am sure. I have smelled your blood and it is not normal. Why do you think you are never sick? Why do you think the animals, dogs, cats and rats avoid you? You remember when the window pane of your room broke. The glass did not cut your hand? Do you remember know how you came to be here, in my care?"

"The car crash. It killed my parents."

"Yes! A huge loaded truck coming downhill crashes into your car. All the four adults die within minutes but you survived and without a scratch. That is why I suspected. I pricked you with the silver knife and checked your blood Flynn. You are part Nephilim, I think. I am not sure."

Father Thoram then removed a small metal box from his drawer and opened it. A small knife with an ivory hilt lay inside.

"Pick it up Flynn."

Flynn stood up and looked at the knife. It was dull steel with a pale ivory hilt. The instant he picked it up the blade began to glow. He felt a tingling in his arm as energy surged through his body. The knife changed shape, it became a straight pointed dagger about a foot long. The blade still glowing.

"This is what you are Flynn. And I need you, the world needs you. After centuries of confinement by King Arthur, Amaresu has broken out. And we- The Brotherhood- have no Nephilin among us to track him. You can. Now Flynn is the time to decide. You can walk out of here, I trust you enough and I am leaving anyway. But if you do that many many lives will be lost and much discord will be sown."

Flynn put the dagger on the table where it reverted to being a small knife. Facing Father Thoram he said

"I don't trust you father." And then he turned and opened the door.

"God bless you, son. Take care." Father said with a nod.

Flynn almost closed the door. He turned and looked at Father Thoram who was trying to pick up the knife using a couple of pencils as a prong. He sighed and stepped back in.

"OK. I need the whole story. I still don't trust you much father. Just enough to not walk away."

Photo Credit: wikimedia

The Contest: https://steemit.com/finishthestory/@bananafish/finish-the-story-contest-week-54