Chapter 1

The Lamb

Fr. Jorge was watching the seminarians through his window. He scanned the entire
congregation, looking for absent seminarians almost mechanically. Ten years in the
seminary and ten years of doing the same thing, he couldn’t help himself but to give
in to his habits. He needed some distraction anyways, to keep himself from reopening
the door he’s avoiding in his brain. He needed not to remember that memory for last
night the poor old priest had seen something so horrifying that he considered diabolic.

It was the devil himself! He’s coming at me! He had known what I had done. He
knew everything!

He stayed awake the entire night, afraid that it could terrorize him even in his dreams.
Even in reality it was terrible enough, how much more in your dreams where
everything is in superlative. He prayed fervently all through the night and yet he could
not feel the divine presence.

Darkness had covered me completely. The Almighty Father can’t see me now!

He’s losing his faith.

He sighed. No, it's more like a breath of exhaustion mixed with fright. He should
report it to the proper authorities. He should report this to his spiritual director, the
bishop. Yes. That’s what he should do. He’s going confess to the bishop and his faith
will be restored. He hoped so.

But his thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door. For a moment, his heart just
leapt to his throat. He was frozen on his spot. Fear had overcome his body that no
muscle dared to move. Is it the devil? Is he gonna take him now.

”I shouldn’t have done it! I shouldn’t have done it!” he whispered while gripping his
remaining hair. Heavy beads of sweat came out from all of his pores, instantly soaking
his black cassock. His bulging eyes were glued on to the door, looking at it as if it
were a predator.

The knocking continued and became louder and harsher. But the priest had the brains
not to open it. His fear escalated making him to pray the Ave Maria. But he was
praying so fast that only inaudible whispering sound came out from his mouth. He
needed to do something. He needed a protection.

In frantic, he ran to the cabinet and quickly crouched and reached under it. He felt for
the button and pushed it. There was a click and a hidden drawer was in ajar on the
cabinet's left side. He pulled it revealing two pistols: a GLOCK 19 and a Browning
Hi-power. He took the Browning and walked slowly back to his previous spot. Facing
the door, he raised his pistol.

"By the name of God, go away demon!" He shouted but he knew he sounded
hypocrite. God had abandoned him. He’s going to take this battle alone

The knocking stopped at once and silence covered everything. It was so eerily silent
that he could hear his blood being pumped into his every vein.

Meanwhile outside, it was a dawn of November. The breeze had become a chilling
gust. It was already six in the morning but the sun hadn't come out yet. The sky was
still cold dark grey. The seminarians were all gathered in groups as they walk towards
the soccer field for their lauds. Even wearing two layers of clothing couldn't keep
them from shivering. They keep on rubbing their hands together with their breviary
tucked in their armpits.

"Urgh! If it will drop another degree, I swear my balls will fall off!" A round faced
seminarian said.

The other seminarian beside him chuckled as he put his hands on his pockets, giving
up on rubbing his hands.

Moments later, the whole congregation was at the soccer field forming a big circle.

"Can we do our lauds in the chapel instead? It's freezing out here!" Another
seminarian said through chattering teeth.

"It's Monday. We're supposed to have our lauds outside. Besides, we'll do

the shibasi afterwards," the round faced seminarian replied.

"Yeah, but considering-"

The other seminarian started but the leader had started the lauds.
"God come to my assistance."

A thunder roared and Fr. Jorge jumped in fright and in shock almost dropping the
pistol. Minutes had passed since he was in this position. The knocking had been long
gone and now his arms were starting to ache. Just another minute and I'll relax. He
watched intensely the seconds hand of his watch until it had completed it revolution.
He then put down his arms but was still holding the gun. No demon had barged in.
Yet.

 Maybe it was Karencita. She's supposed to clean my room today.

 He then took comfort with this thought. He knew that deep down it's not the best
conclusion. 

But sometimes we have to take comfort to the lies we tell ourselves to keep us
sane. He thought.

Bravery had operated his body. If he’s going to take this battle, he going to take it
head on. He picked up his stole first and draped it over his neck before slowly walking
towards the door and opened it.

His scream was drowned by the raging roar of the thunder.

It’s the devil!

Another thunder roared and no sooner, there was a downpour. The seminarians swore
as they ran to every shelter nearest to them. Then their Mayor announced that they'll
just continue their lauds in the chapel. Majority of them rolled their eyes.

"Told them so," the round faced seminarian muttered.

Detouring by the refectory, they ran towards the chapel. By the time they got inside
the sacred place, almost every one of them was drenched.

"Well at least we got ourselves wet," a pimply seminarian teased.

Everyone laughed except the Mayor.

"Watch your mouth Kent. You're a seminarian. You're supposed to be more mature,"
the Mayor replied sternly.

"Relax Loyd, we all need to have a little laugh sometimes," the round faced boy
defended.

The Mayor was about to open his mouth when someone had shouted somewhere near
the altar.

"GUYS!"

For a second everyone was silent but the chapel was filled then with murmurs and
stomping of feet. Everyone was starting to run towards the altar, to see what had
happen. The Mayor was the slowest to react therefore, by the time he got near his
view was blocked by the backs of the seminarians. He then heard someone crying.

"Oh, he loves animals," a seminarian told his classmate.

The Mayor was puzzled yet curious. More gasps echoed, wanting him more to see it
for himself. He shoved some seminarians out of his way and then when he finally got
to the front line, he froze. A lamb. A dead lamb with its insides pulled out form its
belly was lying on the altar table. The white linen was soaked with its blood.

"Look!" Kent shouted, pointing under the table.

There were words scribbled under the table. The Mayor was convinced that they were
made with the lamb's blood.

The lamb had died for your sins. REPENT

Everyone was hushed. The deafening sound of the heavy downpour and thunder
replaced the seminarian's murmurs.

Then a lightning flashed.

A spine-chilling scream then reverberated through everyone's soul.

It was coming from the main building. All the men raced outside, not minding now
the storm. By the time they got at the corridor leading to the Seminary Square, they
met Karencita halfway and she cried out loud.

"Fr. Jorge is dead! Oh God! Oh God! It’s so evil!"

Her words were muffled by her hysterical sobs. She was tightly grasping the forearm
of the Mayor. But he managed to break free and ran towards the Seminary Square

No. No. No.

Fr. Jorge cannot be dead! He knew him. The priest was healthy. They were close
enough to be sure of this. He's like a father he didn't have. He's a good man. How can
God take someone so good? How? No! He can't be dead.

He pushed his legs harder but the weight in his chest kept him from going any faster.

Maybe he just need some help. He's still alive. Oh God! Please let him be still alive.

He got at the Square and his knees just buckled and his whole body just felt like jelly.
The numbness started from his legs then crept up towards his torso. His ears began
ringing, like they had the senses to shut themselves from reality. From this horrible
reality. He just wished his eyes would do it as well. To shut its faculty and leave this
realm. He wished this was all a dream. He wished so many things. But he couldn't get
away with it. His wishes won't save the poor priest. He wishes won't erase the image
of the old man hanging several feet from the ground by the one of the railings with his
own stole tied around his neck. His tongue hung 'till his chest while blood crept out
from his mouth, dripping on to the earth. His eyes were bloodshot open and staring at
him in horror, in agony, blaming him for whatever he, the Mayor had done.