The Eye Of The Moon

Father Matthew had lived in the village over forty years, seven months and twenty-two days. He was known as a deeply religious man and commanded the respect of his parishioners. He, in turn, respected them.

The villagers looked up to him as a man of deep conviction and piety. His love for God was so absolute he cared little for human relationships beyond the duties of guiding the flock into the arms of the Lord.

Father Matthew employed his sister and his teenage niece as servants at the vicarage and had done so for many years although he truly despised women.

One morning after finishing up his midday duties at the church Father Matthew was informed his sister Matilda, the niece, had fallen in love with a local farmer’s son.

The news sent him into a rage.

All her life he warned against the temptations of the flesh and recounted the story of Eve in the Garden of Eden and how woman was responsible for the original sins passed down to mankind. He assured her the only way to salvation was God’s love. Only He could command such devotion and worship. A woman is capable of dreadful things and plunging a man into the greatest despair and despondency with their wickedness.

The sister implored her brother to rescue her only daughter from the clutches of a brute. He swore he would sort out the trouble and made enquiries to send Matilda to the convent at Grimache.

“They go out at night under the eye of the full moon between ten and midnight. She plays us for fools!” said the sister.

Father Matthew stewed over the scene in his mind and grew red with rage.

“Fear not, sister. Matilda shall be saved from this wretched mess”.

The hour came, and so Father Matthew grabbed his cape, cloak and walking stick, and headed out down the country lane into the village under the dazzling silver-grey moonlight.

He passed the Buzzard and Eagle inn and heard the raucous laughter of men in sin. He stood looking to the window when a man passed. The poacher hid his full face from view and clutched two dead pheasants tight against his body.

Father Matthew watched the man disappear into the black and continued on his way across the graveyard and out into the open land. The whole world glistened around him. He cared not for the night and its spectral grace. Owls hooted and bats swooped. Far off the howling of wolves echoed. Those creatures of the devil worshipped the moon and its evil powers.

At the border of a river he stopped and caught his breath. The howling of the wolves appeared nearer than he first assumed. Wolves were known to attack humans on occasion. They’d yet to drive them from the land but Father Matthew feared nothing.

The swarm of stars allowed for a glimpse of the heavenly kingdom. Even in darkness there was light.

And so he followed the sharp meandering river as it flowed in silence towards the entrance of the sea twenty miles upstream.

At the edge of the woods a pitch black presented itself like a layer or veil. Beyond the first set of darken trees nothing more could be seen. With no light save the moon and stars Father Matthew skirted the edge of the woods until he came upon a set of meadows leading towards, he correctly assumed, Lord Wengenroth’s mansion.

Suddenly he heard laughter: female laughter; followed by that of a man's. Father Matthew grimaced and trekked along the moody path until he stopped beneath large oak tree at the entrance of a wide, open field.

Matilda and the farmer’s son stood under the bright silver glaze of the moon and kissed. Father Matthew remained silent in fury and watched.

The farmer’s son kissed her passionately on the mouth and caressed her breasts until Matilda removed all her clothes. They laughed and frolicked with abandon.

The farmer’s son took off his clothes and began to masturbate before Matilda took it in her mouth. This final obscenity caused Father Matthew to gasp in horror and avert his eyes. So sudden was the movement he bashed his head against the tree trunk and yelped in pain. Neither Matilda nor the farmer’s son noticed a thing.

Father Matthew gathered himself and looked once more at the vulgar duo wrapped in lust. The farmer’s son now laughed so loud it changed pitch into something akin to the yelp of a dog. Matilda followed suit until her laugh turned to cackle turned to howl with a satanic undulation and pitch.

The farmer’s son followed with a deep guttural growl and at that moment he staggered back and forth wracked in some kind of agony. He collapsed and withered on the ground until Matilda suddenly followed in the same pattern.

Father Matthew gripped the bark of the tree so tight he felt rigid and turned to stone so complete was the horror now before his eyes. Matilda’s face contorted into that of a demon and her eyes burned bright red. Jagged teeth erupted from the farmer’s son’s mouth and hair grew from the torso and legs. He stretched and withered on the ground until springing forth on all fours.

Father Matthew averted his eyes and ran away down the muddy path not once daring to look back. He retraced his steps in a hurry along the border of the woods and river. Once or twice he heard the demon dogs behind him. He muttered prayers to God for protection and asked the angels to guide him home. His only niece; whom he’d sworn to raise as a good Christian woman was now in the hands of the devil. The revulsion waved through him like a sickness. Her beauty was lost, destroyed, defiled. How he’d watch her grow up with a keen eye and once or twice noted her beauty may stir passion in a man’s heart.

A wind picked up as he reached the graveyard. He stopped by the gates but soon noticed a pair of red evil eyes that watched from the edge of a cluster of sycamore trees by the cemetery wall.

Father Matthew turned and lost his footing in a small hole where he fell to the earth and smashed his head against the corner of a gravestone. The last thing he felt was something wet sniffing against his cheek. Then he was lost in the cosmos of sleep.

Something wet and light stirred him. A raindrop and then another. A rumble of thunder woke him proper. A lilac dawn mixed with charcoal clouds greeted him. A gravedigger, a peasant, stood over him puzzled.

“Help me up,” he muttered.

At the vicarage, his sister and niece stood with great concern as he related his nightly episode. Matilda looked utterly ordinary in her radiance but a look in her eye gave her away to him.

Father Matthew ordered the local constable to arrest the farmer’s son and have him locked up. His niece was taken in irons to the convent immediately. Neither his sister nor Matilda protested. They wept but nothing could stop the divine wrath of their benefactor.

He informed his dear sister what was to be done. An exorcism must be performed at the earliest opportunity. The farmer’s son was hung without trail and ceremony. Father Matthew’s word was taken verbatim and without question. He was a man with the fire of the Lord within him as he set about saving the soul of his dear Matilda. The farmer’s son’s body was quartered and buried outside the walls of the cemetery.

For thirty nights Matilda underwent exorcism until she took her last breath, barely a sigh, and perished. Her death was quiet and saintly.

Father Matthew and his sister were present. They wept but were resolved to the dispersion of her satanic body in the method set forth by law. She, too, was buried outside the walls of the cemetery where once a year her mother went against the law and placed a ring of daisies – Matilda’s favourite – at the site of the grave.

Two months later, Father Matthew was returning under a full moon, from a neighbouring village by carriage. He often thought of Matilda and that scene of blasphemy. He had set the world right and believed the trail sent by the Lord to test his faith. Quite why he took the most beautiful thing from his life he could never quite say. She was a whore like all women, he concurred. Often she’d taunted him with lingering glances.

The horses stopped dead on the lane. Gregory, his assistant, yelled at the horses to move their arses. But they wouldn’t budge. A large series of howls pierced the land. Father Matthew got out of the carriage and asked what the matter was. Gregory could not say.

Again a series of howls cried out and echoed slowly. Father Matthew turned towards a line of trees and walked towards them. Beyond was an open field – the same field where he’d spied Matilda and her lover.

Gregory followed with his lantern close behind. In the field, stood a young woman who looked like his niece making love with a man dressed in a priest’s frock. He cried out in horror as the pair transformed into something beyond horror.

Gregory dropped the lantern and ran as fast as he could back towards the horses. Father Matthew heard the cracking of the whip and the stampede of hooves. He cried out the name of the Lord and ran towards the demons brandishing his cane.