Father Carther lowered his hands once again bringing them to rest on the purple blanket draping over a box of some sort. He looked at peace and rather calm, as he did after every sermon. Not that it would last. “DON’T YOU SEE!? He who died for our sins must rise again to guide this profane world into a new light! From man to beast, his form transmuted and from your flesh, it shall be reversed!
“I don’t care. You’re mental! Fucking psychotic!” He ripped the blanket away, forcing Lisa to face what would soon eat her. The manacles and chains clinked in a chorus of boredom. From the barn to the chicken wire enclosure she found herself chained inside, the entire set up felt like a carbon copy of some trash 80s horror movie scene. A strangled giggled cracked from her throat. Where’s the sickle? It must be nearby. Aren’t they always a barn murder staple?
He stood strangely still and began, again, another long-winded sermon. Every word falling from his mouth reeked of conviction. His voice was comforting almost. In another life, she’d stop, listen, and offer him a 20 before stopping in for some Starbucks.
Actually, she’s surprised she recognized him at all. As of now, Father Carther dressed to the nines: Hair combed and slicked back, frumpy suit and tie. Usually he came in with ragged clothes and a rat nest for hair. Maybe it was because of his impeccably white teeth. His smiles (and the way he just hurried through checkout and left without being a dick) always were a highlight of her day. She labeled him as completely harmless.
So, as he walked towards, she racked her brain trying to understand, why her? Had she ignored him? Tossed his change on the counter? Told him to choke on a dick under her breath?!
This was not reality. This was not reality. Lisa repeated it over and over in her head and half believed it. But the metal chafing her wrists, the bales of hay pricking and itching at her head and arms stopped her from completely dissociating.
Father Cather walked to the far left side of the barn hidden behind a dust covered car. Lisa tinkered with her manacles only for him to return moments later brandishing a sickle. It gleamed in the sunlight accenting the cheaply varnished pine handle. Obviously it came from Alan’s Tool Emporium, not that she remembered selling it to him.
He grabbed the cage with his free hand and came into her enclosure. The black blob of fat and fur stared at her, scrunching its little nose. Jesus didn’t even look hungry, not that rabbits recognized meat as food. She was going to be murdered, to give this poor rabbit indigestion.
“The time is upon us! Like Abraham offering his son, I bestow onto you this sacrifice!” Walking forward, he paused darting his eyes around like he was waiting for the angel to point to his goat. Lisa kicked out with all her strength. Father Carther stumbled and swung his arm out, nearly cutting her. Rather than dodge, she curled up into a ball and clenched her eyes shut; her mind and body refused to cooperate with each other.
A suddenly clatter made her flinch. She stayed where she was until something warm and wet spread down her arms. The sickle stuck deep in his neck, dragged down into a deep gash spurting blood.
She screamed and her chains fell off. “Be at ease child. You are safe now.” This voice emanated from below Father Carther, a high pitched, slow squeaking.
Lisa blinked slowly and reached out her hand to push Father Cather over. The black beady eyes stared up at her. A blood-soaked rabbit continued to lap at the blood on the floor, turning around only to daintily nibble on Carther’s flesh.
“Oh JESUS!” Lisa flung her hands to her mouth as she felt her sanity slide away.
“Yes my child. Tis I.”
“Why. . .?”
“I am here to purge the evil from humanity. You shall become my newest apostle to help carry out my holy whims. Duties. Holy duties.”
“You shall want for nothing as I shall provide protection and comfort.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Ah.” Jesus stood on his hindlegs, his fluffy paws held tight to his chest. “The ceremony was incomplete. As I sacrificed my body to absolve humanity, humanity was asked to sacrifice. Father Carther was chosen as a man of God to hear my words and offer sacrifice. However, he refused and perverted the blessing asked of him, so I am in this form.”
Lisa broke eye contact to reach out and poke at Jesus’s fluffy tummy. “I mean, um, why are you black?”
Jesus thumped his hind leg angrily. “I told dad we should have started in Wyoming. . . ”