A Dead Church by Harold Billings

Author:Harold Billings
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Zagava
Published: 2023-09-30T00:00:00+00:00

The Monk’s Wild Garden

I held Susan’s hand as she lay in the hospital bed recovering from the damages to her face made by that creature bred in the old abandoned church. That there was evil there that had completely occupied the fieldstones gathered for its construction, and tied in place with local mortar, I simply did not doubt.

That a building itself could assume such a characterization was not a new idea, but just looking at the bandages that covered Susan’s face convinced me. I knew that there were authorities that would never believe that a creature flying from a broken windowlike area in the fieldstone wall of the church was responsible. We had camped there during a historical study of the structure (as we told people), and the building had thrown this sexually vampiric creature at Susan and severely damaged her lovely face. But we had simply called it an owl.

There were some who blamed me. Yes, I had, over the years, occasions of anxiety attacks and reactive seizures, but that was simply not the case here, despite the fact that there was only myself found alone with Susan, brave, tragic Susan, my very own bird, as I had called my “bright-eyed” colleague. She was much more than simply a companion in our graduate archeological studies. It was impossible not to love her and her striking bright-eyed smile.

There was no damaged owl or other flying creature present to blame for the wreck that had been made of Susan’s face and the blood that had covered my own hands and body. There was, however, no factual reason to dispute our story.

She and I both appeared to remember the specifics of the attack as we described it, and it was her insistence that an owl had struck her. Neither of us would have said it was a Pterosaur. Nevertheless, I knew that her family still blamed me, if only for having her there.

∗ ∗ ∗

The doctors chased me away from my post by her bed, and it was with dread and a prayer—that I never usually make for anything—with which I waited without. When a doctor finally came out, I introduced myself as a very, very close friend, and asked how she was doing. I had had no response from her during the hours that I sat by her.

“Well, in some ways she’s lucky,” he said. “She is sleeping now from drugs. I understand that a nesting owl attacked her? She has a broken nose, several rather severe lacerations, and bruises. But mostly things that we can take care of, in time. We’ve given her a tetanus shot, some pain killers, and antibiotics—and worked at stitching up the deeper lacerations.”

“What about her eyes?” I asked.

“Bruised. We’ll have to do more study when the swelling recedes.”

We would simply have to wait. It was not easy to do given the possible alternatives, as well as some thought as to what we might do with that bird and church. A day or so later, when

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