Audience: The act of hearing attention to sounds
Prebendship: Completed by a Prebend, an administrative role in the church
Leptocercal: Having a long slender tail
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Huddled into a corner, his body quivering, Reski patiently waited for an audience with the Priest. The old man was currently elsewhere, dealing with matters of importance that generally involved the didactic pleasures of God and Gold.
In the old man’s absence, the Prebendary sat with Reski to keep him company. He was a slight, unassuming man with paper-thin skin and a wilting thatch of hair that resembled the foundations of a small bird’s nest. He had been living in the church for nigh on eighteen months and was finally approaching the end of his Prebendship, an arduous administrative role that required scruples as questionable as the Priest’s himself.
Reski sat silently, listening to the man as he muttered fragmentary stories of his life before the church. The words were hard to understand, relayed in piecemeal, and they filled Reski with an ominous feeling. The hairs on the back of his neck twitched, bristling like flickering candles. His ears trembled as a footstep echoed somewhere in the dark. He shrank back further.
‘Come now,’ said the Prebendary, noticing Reski’s sudden reticence. ‘What scares you?’
Reski remained silent, unable to speak.
The Prebendary watched him carefully, as if expecting a response. However, none was forthcoming except the faint horse-hoof clop of rain on the windows.
‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Suit yourself.’
Reski was relived. He had never liked the Prebendary, who he knew deep down was a cruel man simply masquerading behind the thick weave of a cassock. Religious administration was such an indiscriminate term that, as Reski saw it, reduced the Prebendary – or should it be elevated? – to a position tantamount to little more than the Priest’s dog’s body.
Seemingly bored with babysitting, the Prebendary broke off a small hunk of cheese from a slab on the table and took a bite. A snail’s trail of spittle clung to his lips like stalactites with each disgustingly wide bite. He washed it down with a goblet of holy water taken from the font. Reski knew that he shouldn’t have done this.
Aware that he was being watched, the Prebendary winked at Reski and said slyly, ‘our little secret…’
As if to barter for his silence, the man tore off a second chunk of cheese – much smaller than the first, naturally – and tossed it towards Reski. He hung back for moment, hesitant, but hunger overcame his apprehension. He ate it quickly, greedily, savoring the rich, milky taste.
‘Good boy,’ purred the Prebendary smugly.
Beyond the weak glow of the candles, a door suddenly opened then closed again heavily. Footsteps followed, echoing as though they belonged to a giant.
‘Holy Father!’ squeaked the Prebendary, jumping to his feet like a natural born sycophant. ‘He is here, just as you requested!’
The Priest’s owl-like eyes focused on the thin wire cage that sat atop the table. Reski suddenly shivered, the cheese forgotten, and defensively curled his leptocercal tail around his small, hairy body.
Stories On The Sofa 