The Curse Of The Moloch (21) There was one bit of charity given with a drop of love; the swarthy matron slipped him two dollars, gave him a hefty lip smacking kiss on the cheek, and wished him better days. Chapter Forty-four After his discharge Jeremiah found himself on the streets in front of the hospital; the late afternoon heralded the coming of the cold early spring night. But the offered clothes kept his body warm. The tightly buttoned pea jacket, with its rust stains on back of the left shoulder, was snug, and a frayed woolen cap took away the chill from his bald scalp. He tucked the gifted bag of tolietries and a frayed towel into the depth of a jacket pocket, looked about for a moment, and then he started his tramp through passages of the strange city. Jeremiah didn't have any inclination as to his direction; he simply drifted to where his booted feet led him. The area where the hospital stood was in an area that had saw better times; the once elegant buildings, that surrounded it, had been transformed, through the years, into dilapitated rooming houses, junk strewn workshops and sour smelling bars. A few buildings stood empty and deserted awaiting the iron ball. Many of the residents on its mean streets were the derelicts of society constantly in search for coins that bought pleasure from a bottle of cheap wine... and the price for a vermin ridden cot in one of the nearby flop houses during the night hours. The good citizens of city came to the area in the morning hours in the course of their jobs in the various workshops and warehouses, and in the maintenace of the hospital. At the close of the day they scurried to their clean surroundings far from the derelict place of the earning of their live-li-hood. During the night hours the only honest ones seen were the police cruising around in their vehicles, and the medical personnel that were busy during their nightly duties. At times the stillness of the area was broken by an ambulance, with flashing red lights and shrill sirens, bringing the sick and the injured to the infirmary... or the flaring blue lamps that told of violence.. Jeremiah, whilst walking along the chain-link fences around the garage of the hospital, was accosted by a harsh voice telling him to move quickly away and not to loiter. He looked to his right and saw an uniformed man in an official looking car. The figure pointed his truncheon at him, "That's right mister... you. Jest move along... and quickly. Don' try to give me any of your lip. Don' want any trouble frum you." The hefty man from the hills didn't need any prompting and just followed the orders of the police. Jeremiah Micaiah was confused as he tried to understand his situation; no answer came and in his simple mind accepted the bitter offerings. As he trudged along he spotted a hole in the wall cafe where he invested one of his dollars on a hot cup of coffee and a buttered roll. He relaxed on one of the cafe's delapitated stools but the owner gave him a menacing look, which told him to hurry up. Finishing, he pocketed his change and carried on tramping the streets. As he walked along he was startled by the whining voice of a seedy vagrant, "Got a couple of bucks fer a cuppa of coffee an' eats, please mister can y' spare th' bread." Jeremiah turned and there, lighted by the dim street lamp was the haunting form of his mother, sighted the fading red of the shabby beggar's dishevelled hair. "Please mister, jist a coupla bucks, been hongry all day, jist a dollar 'll make do," was the continual whine of the unkempt woman, a non-descript derelict that the world had damned for her poverty. Her boney hand was thrust towards him. Terror mesmerized him and he backed away. The icey winds blew their cold message as he saw, not a palm of beggary but a claw coming to drag him to the fiery pit of the god of fire.. As Jeremiah backed away, shuffling for refuge in a nearby deserted alley: but the pathetic creature continued to move towards him. Her constant whining words of beggary twisted in his mind to horrific fantasy, "Yah, ya. Yahu, I have come to take you the Moloch." Within his crazed imagination, he saw evil monsters and hellish apparitions circling him with the fluttering of tattered wings, prodding him to drive away the haunting figure of Miz' Jezebel, the haunting phantom of his mother. The ghost of Miz' Jezebel, black in the garb of hell, grew taller and taller till it hovered menacingly over him. Jeremiah was overpowered by the smell of the sulphur of the lower world that emitted from the depth of her being. The whine of her voiced turned to hideous laughter that beaded him with the sweat of damning fear. Slowly her clawing grasping talons sharpenened into pointed forks as it tried to grab to him. He tried to escape from their snare but the menacing claws came closer and closer. He backed away till his fingers felt the rough brickworks of a nearby building. His pace quickened along the wall in order to escape the fierceful apparition of his fantasy. As he moved his foot tripped over a piece of leaning rusty pipe. The noise of its fall on the pavement momentarily startled him; but the evil creatures of his mind directed him, with their taunting words, to find the cause of the sharp metallic sound. He reached down and after a quick search found the rusty iron; then he gripped the iron pipe with two hands. As the grasping bag lady came closer Jeremiah rose in his height and lifted the piece of metal above his head and with a fierce downward blow smashed it on her head. Again and again he beat on the streaked red of her hair with the cruel iron driving her body to the cold pavement. As the blows rained down, He screamed, "Ye 'll not take me t' th' Moloch! Ye 'll not take me t' th' thet' fire pit!" The derelict lay spread on the ground, her crushed skull spewing out the crimson blood that mixed with the fading colour of her hair. The bulky figure just stared; his painful lungs breathing hard against his chest in the spasms of his exertion. As he continued to stare at the battered remains, his feverish mind saw visions of hell. The Prince of Darkness, with his consort of hoofed demons and screaming spirits were circling about and calling out their damnation; their accusing fingers pointed in his direction. Jeremiah felt the cold hand of terror as he watched and heard the devil dance. Then, from above a streak of lighting flashed through the darkened sky, followed by a deep roar of thunder. His fantasized imagination raced in its madness that visualized the coming of the demi-god. Terror increased and Jeremiah, in fear for his very being, ran screaming from the terrible sight. Chapter Forty-five The sun broke through the clouds the next morning adding a bit of warmth to the cold spring day; it also brought a slight feeling of cheer and hope to the ones downcast in their lives. Even Jeremiah felt the warm rays of the sun as he rose from his nighly shelter in a deserted basement. As he slowly made his way to the uninviting streets, he conveyed this warm feeling to his unseen companions. Then he related to them of what had happened the night before; that he had again driven Miz' Jezebel, the figure of his avenging mother back once again to the stink of hell. "Ah cain't figure it out, no how. All th' time ah beats her back real hard an' she a'come back an' back agin. 'Hit war' last night an' agin' two times th' last couple o' weeks," he rambled on this disturbing question repeatedly; a question that needed an answer for his simple mind. "Caint understan', caint figure it out!" he spluttered from drooling lips. But the figures of his fantasy were unable to tell him the words he needed to hear. He rambled along the thoroughfares and continued to talk to the unseen ones. To a few of the passers-by, seeing a broad husky man in conversation with himself, would mark him as a nutter. But there were no jeers from them as they saw with a careful look at his florid, broad face crossed with a wicked looking grin with the drool of spittle dribbling from his thick lips; they simply stared at him for a moment, shrugged their shoulders and moved along. Jeremiah Micaiah almost had pleasure in his meandering through the streets that day; through the clear sunny day he was able to forget the terrors of the past night. As he trudged along, the question that bothered him earlier faded from his thoughts. He even forgot the misery of sheltering in a cold basement of an abandoned building, and the taste of a stale loaf. Then with a swipe of a coat sleeve he cleared the spittle from his coarse lips as he blocked his simple mind to the events of the recent past. "T' hell wit' it," he exclaimed loud and clear to the creatures of his fantasy. He stopped and stared at the goods displayed in the rare retail shops of that area. He pointed out interesting objects he spotted in window displays to his unseen friends who also took an interest in them. One store had a few toys and small dolls in the window and the hefty man giggled in delight as he looked from one to the other."Lookee at all them funny lil' people, an'... an' lookee at them thar silly lookin' doodads," he giggled in a rare moment of pleasure. "Mighty fine lil' town. Very nice lil' things in them thar stores," he related to his unseen friends and they approved of what they had seen together. But it was nearly spoiled by an ambitious storekeeper who thought he had a sucker in mind. Spotting Jeremiah looking at his wares, the merchant put aside his idleness and quickly left the store and went to his side. He placed his arm around the shoulders of the hefty young man friendly-like and gently prodded him into his dusty emporium; with pleasant words he offered his so-called prospective customer the sight of his treasured stock. The man from the hollow took delight at the many fine toys that did all sorts of movements. He was amazed at the little trucks and cars, puzzles and all the magic of the world of toys. The sight glistened before his eyes that tempted him to touch and to enjoy in the play. But it was a different story when the owner talked of purchase and of prices. Finding out that Jeremiah was nearly penniless, the shopkeeper's act of friendliness turned sour. He tore away his goods from Jeremiah's sight and practically drove him out from his premises; only the warning sight of a strong heavily built figure caused him to move cautiously. Jeremiah, a bit upset in his childish way, rambled once again through the mean streets; he couldn't understand the motives of the merchant - 'first calling him into the store and then throwing him out'. He slouched along with his hands deep in his pockets a bit put out by the minor affair. He was dejected in spirit and when he con tinued on his way, he fixed his eyes on the cold cemented pavement, until he nearly bumped into a group of dishevelled men at a street corner. He looked up and saw they were surrounding a meek little man dressed like a soldier, proud and erect on a soapbox. There were other soldierly dressed figures that stood on the sidewalk beside him - a timid bespectacled elderly man, five professed guardians, and two middle-aged, care worn women, bitter in their virginity. Before Jeremiah could receive answers from his circling creatures, he heard loud words from the person on the rough pulpit. "We are soldiers of the Lord," piped the meek little man, "We have come to save you sinners from the pitfalls of Satan!!" "Hallelujah!" echoed his companions loudly. The soldier of the Lord told of the many sins that plagued the life of man, and with a flabby hand pounding on an open palm, he called out these moral offences. His loud chirping voice told his not-so interested audience of its retribution in the deep hell fires of the Satan's world. He spoke of the words of the 'Good Book' that will lead one on the blessed path of righteousness. And at every phrase of holiness his companions would sing out "Hallelujah". The meek little man looked out to the crowd in front of him and called out, "Who will come foward and accept the words of the Lord, who?" Not a sound was heard from the group of the downtrodden as this was a repeated daily performance in the drudgery of their lives. Again the missionary's voice rang out and pleaded for the sinners to come foward and express their wish to repent and accept the righteous words as expressed in the Good Book. He waited and his pleading call was answered. Jeremiah moved, with the urging of his unseen companions, towards the pulpit and loudly called out that he will accept the word of the 'Lordy'. At his timely announcement, the soldiers of the Lord were relieved, as their catch for souls was limited. The followers of the preacher surrounded the professed believer with shouts of "Hallelujah" and "Praise Be". He was asked if he truly believed in the words of the 'Good Book' and that he will follow in the true path of rightousness. Jeremiah responded affirmatively; with the slurring of his tongue he told of his deep belief, and the guardians of the word were enjoyed in their hearing of the good news. "What be your name my good man?" piped the speaker in the glory of the day. "J.. J.. J Jeremiah, Jeremiah Micaiah be mah name," stammered the newly redeemed soul. "Jeremiah Micaiah, Jeremiah Micaiah, bless be the name," echoed the believing ones." The salvationist left his box pulpit and went to the saved pledge; despite his short stature he was able to place one of his pudgy hands on Jeremiah's shoulder. Holding tightly he shouted a hearty "Halellujah", followed by an equal response by the other soldiers of the word. "Let us give praise to the Lord for leading us this good man. We sing in His glory that we can bring this fortunate man to the righteous word," he called loudly in his chirping voice. His followers half-circled the newly found believer and in their joyous voices rang out repeatedly the pious words, "Praise be to the Lord." And they only saw in the smirk in the coarseness of Jeremiah's broad face as a beaming sign of hope in salvation. "Come with us Jeremiah Micaiah, my son and share in the offerings of the blessed creator," exclaimed the glory seeker without giving any explanation. "Our gifts are simple to our needs but we are thankful for them." His words were full of phrase of the Lord's bounty, but only the riff-raff knew of their meaning, namely a hot noon-time meal which they offered the homeless and destitute of the area. Without even a nod of approval Jeremiah was pulled along, followed by the other holy ones; the dishevelled ones joined in the procession as it made it way through the streets. The missionary and his faithful attendants sang songs of praise to the creator, and Jeremiah, in his simplicity, hummed along. The following crowd of slouched lost souls smirked in the sight of the singing holy ones; their only thought was of warm food. It was a fools parade filled with the trappings of the holiness of salvation and repentence, with Jeremiah as king of the hour. A boarded store fronted premise was reached. The sign above the entrance read "Holy Light Mission" with an inscription from the Book of Proverbs, "A good man earns favour from the Lord." The missionary was first to enter and he proudly opened the door. All entered, from his followers to the new believer, to the crowd of the lost souls. As he entered, Jeremiah saw within a small chapel, something like his Sunday go-to-meeting place back in the hollow. The soldier of the lord moved towards the small pulpit. With kind words he indicated to his few followers and his new recruit to the Word to take their seats near the simple altar. Then with a few phrases and the motion of his right hand, he directed the crowd of the drifters to the assembled folding chairs in front of his pulpit; they moved quickly as requested with considerable amount of boisterous pushing and shoving. But their sight of scorn etched on the salvationist's stern face brought a semblance of order. The meek looking gospeller doffed his soldier's peaked cap and climbed onto the small pulpit and waited for the quiet of his congregation. Through the stillness that reigned through the chapel he scanned his congregation and, without hesitation, started the flow of righteous words. To Jeremiah, his sermon was like the ones of his good preacher back there in the settlement, except he speechified in a squeaky voice. The soldier of the Lord called out the name of the new believer of the faith, and he was exemplified and praised for coming foward and accepting His word. And at this point his companions shouted a hearty 'Hallelujah' interjecting with the phrase 'Praise Be'. Then the good man told the congregation to rise. With their found hymnals opened to the correct page, they joined in the song of praise; their gruff voices violated the sanctity of the words. A high-pitched 'Amen' was voiced by the missionary and the holy ones respounded equally. A short pause ensued followed by a blessing by the gospeller to the congregation. Then he told the gathered assembly, both the believers and the fallen, that they were invited to the other room, "Where we will share in the bounty and goodness of the Lord." Then the godly man left the pulpit and quickly went to the door of an adjacent room. With a grand gesture he opened the door and ushered his followers along with Jeremiah, his honoured guest, inside. He waited a few moments, and again. Seeing that all was in order within, he faced the downtrodden and with saintly words invited them to enter and to join the messengers of the Word in the offerings of the Good Lord. There was no pause from them as they rushed eagerly towards the serving of a hot noon time meal, their only decent meal of the day. Two soldiers of the Lord were there ready to serve the warm food to the lost souls. The unfortunates lined themselves in front of a heavily laden table, and given a large soup bowl and a spoon. They moved quietly in front of a battered aluminium vessel as hot vegetable and potato soup, with slivers of meat, was laddled from its depth into their bowls; a thick slice of bread was added as a measure of filling. Their lips quietly passing words of thanks as they they received their portion. Then the thankful ones slowly went to large planked tables where they placed their bowls of soup, and sat on the fronted rough benches. Their hunger excluded manners and they quickly gorged themselves There were cups of tea for those who would want this refresh ment, but there were few takers; the dishevelled ones simply quickly finished the plain meal and left the dining room. A few remained to enjoy the simple comforts of the mission and the possibility of a second helping. Jeremiah, as the honoured guest that day, did not take part in the charitable meal to the outcasts, but he was invited to join the evangelist and his followers at their table in a small alcove in a closed off section of the room. The leader of the soldiers of the Lord raised his hand before the meal to call attention to his followers. "My good friends, the Lord has blessed us and has brought us a new follower in the righteous word. His name is Jeremiah, Jeremiah aah aah.." as he searched his mind, "Micaiah, that's the saintly name. Jeremiah Micaiah, who’s beaming and radiant face expresses his love for the might of the blessed Lord." A hearty 'Amen' issued forth after his phrases. He turned to his newly found soldier, "Jeremiah Micaiah, my son, before we start to partake in the Lord's offering I would like share my name with you. My name is Brother Amos, like the name of the prophet who told of the sins of Israel and her neighbors." The pinched face virgin was introduced as Sister Sarah and her companion in belief addressed as Sister Rachel. There were brothers of the Lord called Abraham, a Joel, an Ezra, a plain young girl addressed as Sister Esther, and three others that were acquainted with names from the Bible. After the introduction Brother Amos and his followers, with Jeremiah imitating, lifted their hands in benediction and blessed their coming meal. It was not like the offered food of charity as it consisted of clear soup, platters of meat, potatoes and vegetables, followed by a pudding, properly laid out on the simple table. The soldiers of the Lord fowarded questions to the newly found believer during the course of the meal. He answered them in the best of his slurring voice, mixed with hesitant stutters, as he tried to phrase the right words. They were overjoyed by the expression of his past belief, of his honest toil in the colliery; they sympathized with him as he told of the tragedy of the closing of the pits and the accompanying misery of unemployment. But his words ommitted his mother's fiery acceptance to the altar of the Moloch; his phrases also ommitted his deep fears and terrors of the minions of the deep abode of hell for his part in this terrible episode. Nor was the mention of his flight from the vengeance of Miz' Lizzie, the feared form of his sacrificed kin, that haunted him continuously with her presence. His lips were sealed as to his vicious attempts to drive the spirit of his mother back to the foul lair of the devil.
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