I’ve had this idea as part of the finale to Tears for a
Butcher for a few years, it may not make it into the book if ever I get around
to finishing it. A book is a year of your life. Whereas a story is an hour, a
big difference. Now read on.
DECEMBER 11TH, 2014 13:02
To The Very Gates Of Hell ©
By Michael Casey
Mrs Murphy watched in horror, just yards in front of her
Fr. Dan was going to be slain, the Colombians had him surrounded. Their guns
were drawn and there was no Hope, he’d be as dead as a doornail in seconds. He
was her favourite priest no he’d be gone to meet his maker. She could see his
face, his eyes were fixed on hers, Pray for me he begged.
Fr. Dan was not
afraid of the Colombians, but he was afraid of his Final Judgement, he has
killed two men in anger when he was younger. He had confessed this to Mrs
Murphy when telling her that her soul was spotless as driven snow compared to
his.
Some thugs had teased him and tortured him, trying to make
him say bad things about Mary, the Virgin Mary. They had carved curses on his
back with knives, but he would never say bad things about Mary. When his chance
came he broke free and used all his Martial Arts skills to survive. Only he
killed 2 of them and crippled 2 more with the other 2 running for their lives.
Jesuits know how to put the Fear of God into bad people,
but Fr. Dan feared God too, he had
committed a mortal sin, thou shalt not kill, and he had killed twice. Now he
was afraid, afraid for his soul, at this moment of his death he was afraid. His
eyes were beseeching, Mrs Murphy would witness his death and his soul would burn
in Hell’s fire for all eternity.
Mrs Murphy wanted to charge the Colombians down and run at
them, but they had their guns ready, the situation was hopeless. Mrs Murphy did
have Faith though, the Faith of a Child, as the bullets flew her heart broke,
her womb exploded in love and fear, she lost her mind, but she kept her Faith.
I’ll go to the Gates of Hell and I’ll jump in the way,
like jumping under a bus, I’ll catch Fr. Dan’s soul and stop it going into
Hell. I’ll wrap my Rosary around the Gates of Hell, keeping them closed. God is
good, God is good, it cannot be the end for Fr. Dan he’s such a lovely priest.
In Hell it was so dark and cold, the deepest of deep space,
she couldn’t really see further than her hands holding her Rosary. If only she
had her friends with her they would weld the gates of hell closed, nobody would
burn in hell ever. She knew how to pray, she knew how to pray.
She felt heavy cold as ice breath on her neck, she could
hear mocking laughter, but she could not see anybody. She tried to say her
Rosary only her lips stuck together it was so cold, she tried to move her
fingers though the beads, her mind was numb, it was like being turned into an
ice cube. There is no love in hell, no love at all.
Mrs Murphy stumbled to her knees, the laughter, the icy
laughter increased, the cold, the numbing cold went down her neck and to her
very core. She had to force herself to remember why she was there. She was
there to save a soul, she started with the Our Father. She continued with the
1st Hail Mary. Fr. Dan was a good priest, he had refused to say bad things
about Mary, they had tortured him, they had tortured him.
Jesus, Jesus forgive him, Mrs Murphy wanted to scream but
it was so cold, so very cold. If only she had somebody saying the Rosary with her.
The Gates of Hell cannot withstand the Power of The Rosary, he mother and her
grandmother had told her. Mrs Murphy was using her best beads, the ones that had been repaired when she was
praying for Big Sid when he was shot. But now she was praying for a soul, not
just a life.
Mrs Murphy managed to move her lips, it was just so cold,
so very cold in the dark space of hell. Hope sprung from her lips, Jesus, Mary
and Joseph she managed to scream, a scream that would be lost in the dark cold
depths of space that was Hell.
Mrs Murphy’s head was spinning, her womb had exploded, she
had lost her mind, she was dizzy, she wanted to vomit. But she had to pray on,
she reached the 2nd Hail Mary on her Rosary. Her mind was playing tricks on her,
she could hear her grandmother praying, she could hear her old dear friend Mrs
Casey praying, she could hear Mrs Noonan praying.
On she prayed, it was just so dark and cold in the deep
space of Hell. But then in the very distance she saw a light, a tiny tiny
flicker, like the lights in the window of houses in Cromane at Christmas, like
the lights in Dingle over the bay. Help was on its way, help was on its way.
Warmth seeped into Mrs Murphy’s body, the Darkness
flickered and with an explosion of Love the cold and dark of Hell disappeared.
Saint Michael the Archangel smiled and caught Mrs Murphy as she fainted. I
thought it was all over she said, Michael laughed, it’s never over, it’s never
over. Mary, Mum heard the Rosary so she sent me to investigate. Every Rosary
everywhere is felt by her, by her womb. He hasn’t got a chance against the
Rosary, never has, never will. And is he wants the argue he’ll have to talk to
my sword said Michael as he brandished his sword.
But, Fr. Dan is dead and his soul must be heading to Hell,
Mrs Murphy interrupted. Saint Michael the Archangel smiled and cried at the
same time. God is good, and as you know his mercy is infinite. Come now I have
to put you back together. But Fr. Dan’s soul is in peril, he must be shot and
dead in the gutter by now insisted Mrs Murphy not understanding.
Time is just a joke as far as God is concerned, explained
Saint Michael as he gathered up Mrs Murphy. He had to get her back to Earth and
save Fr. Dan’s life in moments. Brandishing his sword Saint Michael flew
through deep space on his way to Birmingham.
The observatories noticed a bright light from the deepest
deepest part of space, it was moving fast, too fast. Many times faster than the
speed of life. It was heading for Earth, if it hit earth it would be the end,
the end of Civilisation and everything. It was impossible, where had it come
from?
Michael did an orbit of the moon and had a look at the
space station, one lonely astronaut had lost his love of life, Michael could
feel the lack of love. So Michael waved at the astronauts before heading for
Birmingham. Birmingham the centre of the universe, well for this one night.
Saint Michael gently lay Mrs Murphy down, her body and soul
and heart united again. Saint Michael strolled towards Fr. Dan the Colombians
had pulled the triggers, the bullets were flying, the bullets were flying.
Saint Michael winked at an unbelieving Fr. Dan, Michael wrapped Fr. Dan in his
wings and started singing, Ave Ave Maria, it was all angels’ favourite song.
God is good Dan, said the Archangel, and Mary said she was
so proud of you too, she’s never stopped praying for you. You have many decades
of work to do, just don’t be too hard on yourself. And as for the Colombians,
they have no idea what’s going to happen next.
&&&&&&&&
ok folks, this is
part of the finale to Tears for a Butcher which I haven’t even finished
writing. I may never get around to it either. This would be chapter 12
I’ve written 1.5
chapters so far and have ideas for the book, really I want to dictate it, IF I
had the software OR had access to a legal secretary who would be fast enough to
type it for
*****this could have been the last thing I ever wrote, I know you wish it was. AS a couple of weeks after I wrote this I had my unplanned bypass, it was supposed to be a triple, but 6 months afterwards I was told I had 4 grafts, hence a QUADRUPLE HEART BYPASS. hence the confusion over triple or quadruple if you just dip into me.
thin me just after my op in Jan 2015
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