The Curse Of The Moloch (23) Tis' was a jest and we had a good laugh." "Always busy she was with the holy work of the church helping the poor and the aged... Always with a kind word and a smile as she offered them the blessed charity. 'Good and kindly woman' were the blessed words of the father of our church as he told of her saintly work..." "The midnight mass held last night at the church was in honour or our saint... Bless her in the name of Our Son. My poor sister had gone to with faith in her soul.. Never to come back! Never again will I ever see her in all her grace..." Chapter Forty-eight Sister Esther pinched her waney cheeks till they had a reddish glow as she preened herself before preparing the offering of the nightly sandwiches and milk to Brother Jeremiah. The inviting evening spelled a charm in the coolness of the flowing air that brought pleasure to her soul. The dedicated woman felt a slight romantic touch within the plainess of her underfiled spinsterly life; the light enchantment caused slight fluttering in the beating of her heart. She had clothed her thin little body in a simple grey woolen dress; the garment was her best, correct and a bit stylish with a high neck collar, ending with an adorned hem that nearly covered the veined flesh of her ankles. And as an added bit of of beauty to her plain femininity she banded a bright rose coloured kerchief, her favourite, on her mousey brown hair, leaving a few shining locks hanging loose on her white forehead. The hour was eight in the evening; she had noted the time from the soft pealing of the pendulum clock as she flitted about the office of the Holy Light mission. The chiming of the hour reminded her of the time when Brother Jeremiah would be finished in his daily toil. Quickly she put on her sweater and scampered to the kitchen. The pinchpenny lighting was switched on and under its dimness Sister Esther prepared the good man's evening repast. She arranged the food on the tray along with the gift of religious tracts from Brother Amos. Sister Esther's heart beat slightly in the mood of her simple thought of romanticsm; a thought enhanced by that extra touch of rose water to her scrawny neck and on her plain facial features. She was a bit light headed as her wispy body moved daintily through the passages of the building and down the few stairs to the basement. A tiny stream of light beamed from under the door of Brother Jeremiah's room; its sight increased the thumping of the excited woman's heart. Jeremiah, engulfed in tiredness, just sat on his cot in the dirt of his work clothes; his peaked cap, tilted slightly on the back of his head, uncovered the sweat of his labours. The heated swirl of numbing fatigue almost gripped him in drowsiness when suddenly he heard a tapping on the door. He froze as the sound repeated in the beat 'tap, tap, tap'. Panic gripped him as the tempo petrified his tired mind that preyed on his deep-rooted fears. The sound at the door increased in its rhythm 'tap, tap, tap,'. In his feared imagination he heard it as the beating of a taut drum signalling the coming of the terrible fire god, the Moloch. 'Tap, tap, tap' the sound of the beat increased. Then he heard a soft voice calling out, "Brother Jeremiah, Brother Jeremiah.." He froze, rooted in the dread of the beckoning sound. The cold fingers of fear coursed his body. "M, M, Miz' Jezebel," he stuttered loudly. Terror swelled and gripped him. He leaped from his bed and dashed to open the door in an effort of flight, but in the opened portal was that damned sight. The deep rose colour of the kerchief, covering the hair of Sister Esther, was signed in his dementia as the red hair of his ghostly mother that had come from the depths of hell with the scent of revenge. Jeremiah terrors increased with each passing moment as he stared fiercely into the eyes of the phantom of his mind. Sister Esther was horror-struck as Jeremiah lurched towards her. Her terror increased at the sight of Jeremiah's wide feverish eyes, veiled in evil, and in the sight of his spittle smeared mouth that smirked in an hideous grin. Sister Esther's body trembled in fright and she felt the skeletal hand of Father Death. She called out in a silent scream as the bulky man hovered over her. The poor creature shivered in icy fear, her blood ran cold, as Jeremiah screamed with loud stuttering words, "Moloch, Moloch, ye b,b,be... not t,t, takin' me t' th' Moloch." She backed away slowly from the rage of the demented man, unable to understand the transformation of Brother Jeremiah. Slowly Sister Esther backed away from him, dropping the tray of food from the weakness of her hands. A slip on the uneveness of the cement floor caused her to fall against the yawning opening of the dampened incinerator. Her eyes widened in panic as she felt the hard hands of Jeremiah pushing her within, imprisoning her with the slam of its steel door. A hidden spark caught the wool of her cloth and the flowing draft flared it into flames. The silence of her voice turned to screams of agony as the flames tormented her flesh. Jeremiah just stared once at the glowing red of the furnace before he ran from its sight, yelling in a hoarse slurred voice, "M, M, Miz' Jezebel is g ,g ,gone back. Ah, ah had p, p, pushed her b, b, back t' th' fires ov hell." Evil drifted in the cold winds as the grinning Devil, along with his horde of avenging demons and damnable spirits of the night, watched and waited. Then, without looking back, Jeremiah scrambled up the stairs, now illuminated by the fiery glow of the incinerator. "Miz' J,J, Jezebel's she's a'gone t' h, h, hell," he continued in his stuttered shouting from his smirking lips; his frenzied eyes glaring in the triumph of the act. Jeremiah didn't feel the cold of the winter night on his coatless body as he ran through the passages of the city in the jubilation of his dementia, "Miz' J, J, Jezebel is a'gone," he shouted over and over again." The few drifters and drunks, that he passed, paid no heed to the crazed figure; the scene, to them, was just another repeated madness in this forgotten zone of the city. Jeremiah's heart raced forcing his breath to choke in the misery of his diseased lungs, and he was compelled to stop and rest from its torture. Jermiah's breathing came in puffs of agony forcing him to bend in its pain. As the suffering of his body decreased he lifted his head, opened his mouth, and swallowed gulps of freshening air. He repeated these efforts till he felt the comforting breath return to its normal pulse. Then, suddenly, as he turned his head slighty, he saw again in the near distance the damnation of that colour flaring again at him. A slovenly woman, disheveled in her poverty, was fondling an orange striped tabby cat; she allowed the animal to hug one of her shoulders and rub its body on the scruffiness of her time worn fur hat. The animal in its ecstacy had pushed back the hat revealing her stringy greyish red mussed hair. "Thas a' nice li' pussy cat," uttered the pathetic creature, and the feline purred his answer. Jeremiah watched and in his madness only saw the return of Miz' Jezebel, the phantom form of his vengeful mother. His crazed thoughts were mixed and puzzled as only a few moments ago he had forced her back to the depths of the fires of the nether word. Evil demons, shadow spirits flew about on tattered wing in the fantasy of his mind; creatures of hell in the macabre of their evilness danced about him on their cloven hooves. From their foul grinning mouths they prodded him with their vile and terrible thoughts that increased the madness in his mind. It rumbled in increasing fury at every passing moment. Then, with an erruption of reckless insanity, Jeremiah ran towards the damnation of the red; as he ran, he picked a large rock, which he lifted aloft. He screamed slurred threats as he threw the missile; anger erupted as the rock missed its target. The startled woman saw the charging figure and the threats of worded violence; without further thought she lifted her tattered dress and tried to scamper away from the coming danger. The cat had jumped from her shoulder; it leaped onto the sidewalk, hunched its orange striped back, and hissed out her defense. As the crazed figure ran towards the figure of his damnation, the stones of the pavment suddenly yawned opened with a roar and blocked his way. Jeremiah ceased in his maddening run and just stared in horror at the opening. The ground trembled and groaned as the cavity widened. Within its depth yellowish smoke belched in thick clouds that choked him with the stinking sulphuric breath of hell. From the yawning cavity rose a massive calf-headed bronze figure; the swirling flames of his pit of sacrifice surrounded his gleaming body. The idol of fire and of the winds of storm bowed it enormous head and stared with glaring eyes at the terrified figure; it called out in a severe and terrible voice to Jeremiah: Eshata Raba, the great fever, Pyretos Megas, the great fire, The tongues of fire shall cover you, It will devour your flesh, cause your Flesh to be melted, to be annulled. Abrasax Yah Yah, Yahu, El El!" The beat of a skin-taut drum was heard tapping out the rhythm of the beginning of the ceremonial offer of sacrifice. The raucous blare of primitive horns called forth the worshippers to presence of the terrible god who demanded the burnt offering of the sacrificial lamb. The tramping of the feet and the ecstatic calling of the faithful could be heard as they made their way to the altar. Some of the frenzy worshippers ran towards Jeremiah and they snared him in a tight grip; their cruel rough hands beat his tortured flesh mercilessly. As the terrified figure was dragged towards the sacrificial fire by the faithful, the stenchy smoke more and more constricted his throat and his lungs choked for the life-giving clear air. Jeremiah Micaiah felt cold unseen cruel hands clawing his tortured flesh; his fear-draped eyes saw the vengeful form of Miz' Jezebel, his hellish mother, haloed in a rubric glow. There was a frightening gleam of devilry in her glowing eyes and a cackling hideous laugh running from her lips. Quickly Miz' Jezebel enveloped him and dragged his unwilling body to the waiting bronze arms of the Moloch, the god of fire. Tambourines, flutes and horns blared in their raucous rhythm as the head priest called upon the great god Moloch to accept this ceremonial lamb as a sin offering. The cadence of the primitive drum beat in its damning tempo when Jeremiah Micaiah was rolled into the burning depths of the sacrificial pit; his voice screaming out his agony. FINIS The tabloids blared out in screaming words; gruesome front-page headlines headed another bloody chapter of the 'Red Hair Serial Murders'. They wrote in bold letters of the discovery of a bludgeoned body of a woman in the late forties in a trash filled alley; the bloated corpse was identified as a woman reported missing for the past few days. Underneath the eye-catching caption, detailed photos pictured the scene at various angles and one of a covered body complete with a dried stream of blood. Exciting words in smaller print followed with frightening details telling of the terrible carnage on her red-haired skull. The copy told of how the corrupt body was hidden by the filth and garbage of the narrow lane, and only discovered accidently by a homeless tramp seeking shelter. See page two for further details... Written in the middle page of one of the newspapers, above an advertisement for an auto-credit agency, was a small item telling of a strange incident near the city hospital. It told of a near attack on a bag lady by a crazed man the past evening. The article stated that cruising police officers had found her on the ground in a state of shock and hysteria. When questioned, the demented creature screamed out the events of an attack upon her by a frenzied madman; she told of how a tall burly man chased her down the street, and wanted to inflict bodily harm on her person. Three other sisters of misery who corroborated her story attended her. The miserable creature told the police that during the attempted assault the madman kept shouting a funny word over and over again. She thought it sounded like the word 'Moloch' or 'Melek' but she wasn't certain due to fear and shock of the threatened attack. The woman also related to the police of an unbelievable and strange story that happened during the attack: Before the lunatic was able to inflict injury upon her, he suddenly burst into flames. The woman was emphatic in her words as she repeatedly told her garbled story to the patient and understanding officers of the law. The newspaper, quoting the police, reported that the bag lady was well known to authorities as she was forever seeing strange illusions; within the past month she came twice to the police station and reported the sighting of little green spacemen.... The article continued with a general statement that the woman was taken to the city hospital where her injuries were found to be superficial. She was released after receiving medical treatment. That the authorities had investigated the woman's complaint; police officers had searched the area and near the scene of the alledged attack they found charred remnants of clothing and shoes mixed in a small pool of greasy animal-like fat... - alongside was a burnt metal badge of the Holy Light Mission. Investigation is continuing…And ended with a simple finality:..."The identity of the attacker is unknown...."
Go to part: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23
Copyright © 2002 Norman A Rubin |