Dear Father

This story contains references to sexual violence, gore and abuse.

Oh lord father, thank you for this day.

Thank you for the cool September breeze as it kisses our tired faces, after a long day of labour. It is in these little moments, such as a sweet breeze, the smell of grass or the laughter of children, that I feel closest to you.

Thank you for a bountiful harvest. We have gifted many pumpkins to the village.

Thank you for Anna, her sweetness like that of honey, and her patience like that of a saint. Our daughter Dorothy is on the cusp of womanhood, and while I do not fully understand the cycle of the moons, I leave that in Anna’s capable hands to explain to our daughter.

in nomine patris et filii et spiritus sancti, Amen.   

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Oh lord Father, thank you again for this blessed day, and thank you for sending Father Magnus to us. At mass he confirmed the rumors of witchcraft spreading through New England once again. We thank you for his protection and his concern for our family. He has come to warn personally of the impending threat and has taken Dorothy to the church for spiritual cleansing.

Father Magnus says that since Dorothy has started to bleed, she is a prime target for witches. Dorothy protested at first, pleading not to go, claiming that she had already received spiritual cleansing many times. That she didn't like it.

I have noticed how hesitant she is to go to church, and how she trembles when receiving the sacrament from Father Magnus. I reminded her of the fifth commandment - Honour thine Father and Mother - and how Father Magnus' blessing will keep her safe. I saw her twitch when Father Magnus put his hand on her shoulder, and I prayed that she may not be tempted by Satan. I fear for my daughter.

in nomine patris et filii et spiritus sancti, Amen

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My lord Father, blessed be thy name. Witches have infiltrated our village. Father Magnus has confirmed it.

I heard screams from the Hanleys last night. When I peaked out the window, I saw Father Magnus pulling their young son Samuel from the home. He was kicking and screaming, defiant. I ask of you, please watch over her and the Hanleys. That poor boy, still but a child…

When I went to Dorothy’s room, I found her with her knees to her chest. She had been sick for some time, vomiting and feeling drowsy. Sister Baxter will be visiting again to serve her more tea and pray.

Please, Lord, watch over my family.

in nomine patris et filii et spiritus sancti, Amen

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Oh Father, please hear my prayer. Sister Baxter says that Dorothy is pregnant. How is this possible? She has been with us for months, and there are no boys of age in our village yet. My body trembles at the thought that she may have been targeted by witches, perhaps while scavenging in the nearby woods for berries and mushrooms.

I must confess to you my lord…my thoughts are turbulent and unsettling. Anna confessed me what Dorothy had told her in private. I refuse to believe it. I ask for your forgiveness my lord, I lost my temper. To accuse our Father Magnus of such actions is blasphemy in your name!  

It's the witches...it must be!

Lord, I will pray to you four times a day.

Amen.

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Father Magnus has closed off our village. He claims that the devil has entered our midst.

Father Magnis came to our home to offer blessings after mass. He said he had not seen Dorothy there in some time and wanted to check in on her. I told him she was sick and that I would bring her as soon as she was better. His face changed from a smile to a dark scowl. He told me he had heard of Dorothy’s pregnancy, and that Satan has been known to impregnate young girls with his spawn. I replied that God also works in mysterious ways, and quoted Mary’s immaculate conception.

Then Father Magnus…he laughed. He agreed and said he would check again in the days to come.

Lord God, our Father, Dorothy and Anna are scared…please lord, please protect us. Amen.

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Oh God, oh Jesus, please!

Please keep Anna and Dorothy from harm!

Father Magnus, he…he came and took them! He proclaimed Anna to be a witch, and that she impregnated our daughter with Satan’s spawn! No, I refuse to believe it!

They have imprisoned me in the church gaol, claiming me to be an accomplice! Dear God, please! I beg of you!

Please…please….please…

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God.  

There was a time when I felt like I knew you. I would feel you in the blooming of the spring flowers. In the sounds of water in the stream. In Anna’s touch. But now, I’m not so sure anymore.

This morning, when the wind brushed my face through the bars of my small window, the acrid stench of death entered my senses as Anna’s ashes blew into my face. Her aroma…it still lingers.

I do not know what I have done to anger you. But Lord, hear me now, that what you have allowed has angered ME.

I know the truth of Father Magnus now. Of his ‘spiritual healings’. How could you? How bloody dare you allow such torment on a child? Then you make me watch as they tied Anna to a stake and lit a fire at her feet. Her cries still reverberate in my mind…

I cannot bear it. I cannot bear you! I am now beginning to wonder if Lucifer was right to fall from heaven. Perhaps he too knew that you were FUCKING us and calling it love, calling it a blessing!

No…Anna…Dorothy...

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Father…no. You.  

Sister Baxter came to my cell with Dorothy. Sister Baxter…her face was gaunt and her teeth green, her skin like old leather. She thanked me for allowing her in our home and giving her Dorothy. Thanked us for her child. Dorothy stood catatonic, not answering me, not touching me when I reached my hand through the bars.

Sister Baxter lifted a bony finger and pointed at the floor in my cell. Oil, rags and a flint appeared in the center. When I turned back, they were gone. I went to my window I saw them, walking hand in hand into the forest, naked, and covered in blood. In Dorothy's right hand, Father Magnus' head, held by the vertebrae.

Then, I'm the one who started to laugh.

I feel a sickness roll over me now. Sickness of life, of agony.

A sickness of you.

In a way, I’m grateful for Sister Baxter. She’s given me the means to burn your house down. To come to you. The means to tell you how I feel directly, to your rotten face.

There’s that breeze again. But I don’t feel you anymore. All I’m grateful for now is the knowledge that the wind will fan my flame.