Holy Hell

Order your copy today!

3 Great Contests!

CLick on the pic for details.

wasted minds entertainment

Email us at ideagems@aol.com for our ad rates or to send your submissions.


	FALL 2008 ISSUE




		Otherwise titled, In the Name of the Lord

Martha Stevens-David is a published writer and has been featured on the Bates College Eclectic E-Zine online magazine, the Lewiston Sun Journal newspaper and by www.Maine.gov, the official State of Maine information site. Currently she is writing a blog for Maine Outdoors Today. She has been working on a short-story collection of more than 150 stories about life in a small Maine town for more than twenty-five years. Please feel free to contact her at: lmdmsd@megalink.net

The old one-room white church was located on the top of a long hill that overlooked the valley and the countryside beyond. Originally, at the turn of the century, this site had been chosen for their house of worship because the elders in the tiny, Vermont village believed that because this place was the highest in the area, then it must be closer to God, and if they built their church on the highest hill, surely God would notice and would answer their every prayer.

Anyone driving by the aging church on that chilly fall evening in nineteen fifty-three, upon seeing the flickering light in the stained glass windows, might have paused to wonder for a brief moment what was going on in the old dilapidated building at that time of night.

If they had stopped and rolled down their window, they would have heard the strong north wind soughing in the tall pines behind the church and felt the threat of impending winter in the frigid Vermont air. Looking up and seeing the clouds scudding across the face of the pale moon would have put a

feeling of dread into anyone’s soul and sent them scurrying for home and a warm bed as though the Devil himself was after them. After all, a church is the last place that anyone would suspect as a place of evil but it was there all the same.

It had been three years since Father Conner, the new priest, had come to the small town of Ashley and had found his way to their church. The townsfolk who still attended the newer Catholic Church in town were thankful that Father had chosen their town out of all the others that must have begged the Bishop to send a new priest. He was young, tall and quite handsome with dark, auburn hair and grey eyes. He had the smooth white skin of his Irish ancestors and his manner was humble and pleasing to the folks in the parish.

Seeing the flickering, yellow light in the old church, most of the townsfolk would have probably just shrugged and thought that the young priest must be prayin’ real hard for all the lost souls in this little valley and continued on their way. But, if one of them had chanced to look through the window on that cold and lonely wind-blown night, they would have seen a truly shocking sight…

Lying on the worn-out rug of the alter floor was the silent, naked form of one of the town’s young girls. Arranged around the girl’s body to form the sign of the trinity were three candles, and every now and then a draft of air in the cold room caused the candles to flicker, burn low, and nearly go out. Kneeling beside her, head bent in prayer, was the young priest. He was also naked, and his bare white skin flashed in the flickering candle light as he moved silently around the girl’s body.

Finishing the lengthy prayer, the priest made the sign of the cross over the young girl, and then carefully, he began to bathe her. Dipping the cloth in a chipped, white enamel basin, he wrung out the excess water and tenderly drew the wet cloth over her lovely face. Then he washed her long golden hair in the basin and dried it. All the while he was performing this cleaning ritual, he was singing the Ave Maria in a very soft voice. He carefully cleaned the rest of her and when he’d finished, he rubbed oil scented with roses into the soft skin of her body.

Satisfied that she was now ready, he rose, walked over to the altar, and picked up the small bottle of Holy Water. He pulled the stopper out of the clear glass vial and then he recited the Lord’s Prayer as he slowly sprinkled the drops of clear liquid all over her naked form. He poured a small amount of the cool water onto her forehead. Using his thumb and forefinger, he gently made the sign of the cross on the smooth skin. Then he moved down to her slightly rounded belly where he again dribbled a small amount of the Holy Water and made the sign of the cross on her taunt skin. He knelt, kissed her gently on the forehead, and she was pure once again. Now she was ready for God.

Standing, he walked over to the small closet that was located in the corner of the sacristy office, opened the door, and withdrew a couple of clean white robes and an altar cloth. He quickly carried these back to the body and knelt down beside it. The priest slid one hand under the silent form to lift her and with his other hand; he slipped the pure white vestment over her head, down over her body and adjusted it. Then he laid a robe that had a large cross embroidered in gold thread over her and carefully folded it under her pretty chin and smoothed out any wrinkles in the cloth as he moved down the length of her body. Next, he tucked the rest of the robe under her small pale feet.

He stood, shook out the long altar cloth, and lifting her slightly again, he began wrapping her slender body very tightly with the cotton cloth. Finally, when he was finished, her body was completely enclosed in a pure, white shroud with only her lovely, silent face still showing. He knelt and gently pressed her dark lashed lids down over her deep blue eyes and then he caressed her face with his long fingers for just a moment. He gently kissed her pale lips and rising once again, he walked to the altar and began the ceremony for the consecration of the dead.


	To find out why there’s a naked dead girl in the sacristy, you’ll have to order our FALL ISSUE on sale now.

		SUBSCRIBE TODAY: www.paypal.com/ideagems@aol.com or send your check or money order to: IdeaGems Publications, P.O. Box 4748, Portland, ME 04112-4748 (Must be 18 years or older to order.) We Thank You For Your Support!