The Department of Hate - A Love Story Read Online Free

not just a symbol or a metaphor. It was a mystery of faith. He should embrace it. But he had persisted in his questions. It would still look like bread and wine in every way so how could it then magically be something else, and not just anything else but God Himself? She had seemed disturbed by his questions, even defensive. They were all a little bit disturbed by young Jarrod Bennet – so astonishingly precocious, so full of questions, and with no respect for authority at all. The nuns had started to make enquiries about getting him into a special school for gifted children as much for their own benefit as for his. Sister Francis had started mumbling something about essence and accidents, transubstantiation – a jumble of meaningless words. It had occurred to him that she didn’t understand it either, not in the slightest. He’d sighed, thinking ‘Oh well, she was only a teacher’ . He knew he was already much smarter than her and getting smarter all the time. By the time he was grown up her tiny little thoughts would surely be of no significance to him at all.  He focused back on the present – walking down the aisle, the other children beside him, the watching parents. The thought occurred to him that maybe it was all just rubbish, everyone was playing make believe, each for their own reason or just because they were too lazy or simply didn’t know any better. But if this was true why did the thought of consuming the host fill him with absolute terror?
     
    He continued to move forward, along with the other children, and Father Menzies continued to go through the motions, saying to each
    “The body and blood of Christ” as he dipped the wafer in the wine and placed it onto their open palm. They each replied
    ”Amen ” as they raised it to their mouths and then moved to the side and then back along the outer aisle. But as Father Menzies did all of this he couldn’t take his eyes off Jarrod. There was something very special about the boy. Father Menzies wasn’t feeling any kind of sexual attraction – that wasn’t it at all. There was growing inside him a terrible fear which increased rapidly as Jarrod approached. Father Menzies was certain Jarrod was looking straight at him. He was sure Jarrod could see into the depths of his soul. He was suddenly sure that Jarrod was something horribly evil. He didn’t know how or why. He continued with the delivery of communion but his hands started to shake. He wanted only to run away screaming.
     
    Finally Jarrod was kneeling before him, palms crossed, looking up at him, waiting, quiet and serious. Father Menzies reached for the wafer, he paused. He didn’t know what to do. He was terrified. A deep dark rasping voice came from the boy
    “What’s the matter father – not your type?” Suddenly the Church was gone and he was one of untold billions in a vast and bottomless pit. He was naked – covered in blood and muck. All around him there was a multitude of other naked bodies kicking and clawing at each other wretchedly in a hopeless and never-ending attempt to gain a slightly better position or just the next breathe of hot fetid air - a raging furnace of pain and despair.  Then just as suddenly he was back in the Church. The same rasping voice continued
    “A little glimpse of the future father, we all know where you’re going” He looked about frantically. No-one else had heard or seen any of this. He looked down at Jarrod who didn’t seem aware of what he’d just said. Jarrod looked back at him calmly. Father Menzies gasped – he knew who Jarrod was.  He let out a stifled scream, dropped the ciborium and the chalice and fled from the Church.
     
    He ran across the field and into the Presbytery behind the church. This was where he lived. He ran up the stairs along the corridor and into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He was gasping for breathe, looking about wildly. He screamed. A large demon was lying on his bed. It was Asmodeous! Father