The Cabinet

You may believe that the past was easier on a soul; but I can assure you that it wasn't. Not at all. Allow me to demonstrate with this cautionary tale.

Father Aaron was proud and caring; sometimes too headstrong but he meant well. He served the little community of Gladtun well; a stalwart man of humble origins, and if there were two things he was guilty of it was believing the best of everyone and not thinking things through enough.

One day a stranger walked into the village pulling a bedraggled horse and cart. On the cart was an object covered with sackcloth that attracted a lot of attention as it came through; it created a stir and everyone had their own views as to what it might be. 

The church was in the centre of the village and it was here the stranger stopped, resting the horse by the far wall. He was the complete opposite of Father Aaron; willowy and wry; a salesman’s jaw and shifty eyebrows that met in the middle; whereas the Father was a tall and brawn oak of a man, but his eyes were keen and compassionate.

The Stranger introduced himself as Lucien Fell and made no bones in starting his sales pitch straight away. Pulling the sackcloth away in one swift and practiced motion he said, “Now what you see’s here, m’lord is my special Miracle Cabinet. It’s a gift of the one great Master and one that I can see you are in right desperate need of it.”

“It is very impressive.” Father Aaron replied. “But I’m not a Lord. I’m a humble servant. What miracles can your cabinet conjure up?”

“It’s no conjuring machine, Father; it can heal the sick and cure the weak and afflicted.” This must have been practiced over several months for it was flawless, thought Father Aaron. He was no longer wet behind the ears; he knew the ways of the world and knew he had every reason to be skeptical. However, there was something different in this Lucien’s gaze that made him distrust him all the more. “I know how hard it must be around here; on my journey I saw the ravages of life etched into the very roads; so much suffering, so much pain. What if I could offer you a way to alleviate all that”

“Such bold claims.” Father Aaron snapped back, not taken in for an instant. “You must think me a 

fool. What proof do you have that your so-called Miracle Cabinet works?”

“Ah, a challenge! Good… Only a fool would insist on taking me at face value… it is just as well that I came prepared! Here is my friend, Balty.” Lucien produced a black cat from the back of the cart and proceeded to strangle the cat much to Father Aaron’s horror. He then placed the cat in the Miracle Cabinet. The Cabinet proceeded to glow and throb and pulsate with a deep resonance that spread throughout the village, and an unearthly light enveloped them. Father Aaron noticed that it became warm, very warm as if the air was heated by invisible flames, but by now a crowd of people had formed wanting to know what was causing the kerfuffle. 

Lucien opened the door and for a second Father Aaron thought he saw the very pits of hell contained within; heat and sulfuric stench that made him turn away with painful tears. The door slammed shut and all was quiet, no birds sang and even the wind held its breath in anticipation, just a thick cloud of smoke that now rapidly decayed and disappeared leaving a rather bedraggled and confused cat. Balty looked up at Lucien and hissed before running away into the church yard, much to the villager’s mirth.

Father Aaron stared at Lucien’s stoic face with shock and horror; nothing had prepared him for such a sight, and what was worse the whole village had witnessed it. True, they had no context in which to judge but it wouldn’t take them long to piece it all together.  He stared at Lucien, looked into his eyes and was repulsed by the sense of fey- innocence that reflected back. Was it just innocence or was there something darker at the edges? Something more akin to triumph perhaps?

“So? What do you think?” Lucien broke the stunned silence. “You all witnessed a bona-fide miracle, even if you didn’t realise it!” Father Aaron wanted to tell Lucien to be quiet, not to incite or excite the crowd but it was far too late. Like wildfire the whole crowd caught light with the tide of a miracle happening right in front of them! “The cat was dead!” Lucien shouted, the showman aspect of his personality coming to the fore now with a force that Father Aaron had never seen before.

“’Ow we know it’s dead then?” Shouted out one of the crowd and many of them howled with laughter.

“I killed it myself!” Lucien shouted with too much joy but the crowd replied in kind, cheering. “I then flung it… ahem.. .placed it in the miracle Cabinet you see before you and allowed the Master to breathe life into it again. The results you saw!”

The crowd became silent, it was almost beyond their comprehension. There was so much Father Aaron wanted to ask Lucien; was the cat really dead; had Lucien really strangled it? There was too much uncertainty and yet the crowds just wanted to know more and he felt powerless.

“Can it work on people too?” One voice shouted out. “Yeah – what else can it do?” Another catcalled.

“It can heal.” This was said so matter-of-factly that it was as if everyone’s breath had suddenly been taken away at once. The shock resonated a few seconds more before Cerrec walked forward. Cerrec, the malformed hunchback, who had never before been known to utter a word against his condition walked up to Lucien and looked him calmly in the eye.

“Will you be able to cure me, Sir?” He asked in a tone that broke everyone’s heart there and then.

“No… but my Cabinet can.” Lucien said solemnly and placed a hand on Cerrec’s shoulder, bidding him to enter the cabinet.

The door suddenly shut behind him and the same dull thudding and pounding; the flashing pulsations but this time a scream could be heard building up, softly at first before increasing in intensity that few could bare it. Shouts and alarms were raised in the crowd for Lucien to open the box but he seemed unwilling to break the process. The decision was taken swiftly away from him by Father Aaron who had had enough of this masquerade. He pushed Lucien aside and pulled the cabinet open with all his might. Everything suddenly went quiet again; smoke hanging inside the cabinet making it impossible to see anything. Had people been paying more attention to Lucien at that stage they might well have wondered why he wore the glimmerings of a smile, but as it was they were too shocked by the smoke clearing only to show the Cabinet completely and utterly empty: of Cerrec there was nothing to be seen.

“What have you done with him, damn you?” Father Aaron raged, taking Lucien by the lapels. “God 

damn you, if you don’t answer me I’ll throw you to the crowd!” The crowd bayed out for Lucien’s blood and it would have been all too easy for Aaron to abide.

“You look at me with scorn and hatred, Father; but at least I tried to heal him.” Lucien turned to the crowd and sneered. “What did any of you do for him except pass on him your pity and derision. I can see the anger hiding the deeper emotions of doubt and shame. It’s easier to hate me than yourselves. I know not what has happened to him; I warned you not to impede the process but none of you listened.”

“We heard him scream!” Shouted one of the crowd.

“And so you assumed it was hurting him rather than curing him?” Lucien replied, pleased he was now back in control of the crowd again. “You knew how deformed and cursed he was; think you that such transformations come without pain? Nothing for nothing, but you can thank yourselves for freeing him from his pain permanently.” This was more than the crowd could bare and they now bayed for blood, appalled that such an accusation be made.

“I think you’d best leave, Lucien, before it is your blood they’re after next.” Father Aaron stated, staring at Lucien intently .

“I will, and what is more I will leave my cabinet with you.” He replied with relish.

“We don’t want it!” Cried out the crowd. “We don’t need it!” 

“Want it? Maybe not.” Lucien chided. “But need it? I think before long you will all be queuing up for its blessing.”

“But we don’t want it.” Aaron snapped back.

“But it’s yours nonetheless; you have signed the contract in blood by entering into it. And you let poor Cerrec pay the price.” Lucien snidely replied. “But I will away from you all now; ungrateful wretches of Gladtun… Gladtun indeed! The cabinet is yours to do with as you will. You may keep the horse and cart as well -they were never mine to begin with!” And with that the man known as Lucien walked away from the crowd which parted like a sea of rage, yet he reached the edge of the village unmolested. Only then did he turn round; making it look as if he had stared each and every villager in 

the eye before laughing with such malice that everyone couldn’t help but shiver.

The crowd rapidly dispersed as if the spell had been broken; a few muttered about Cerrec, hoping he was in a better place. None could look at Father Aaron nor the cabinet, but all knew that something fundamental had changed and nothing would be the same again.

Three days later, the Cabinet had been moved into a far corner of the churchyard, behind the yew tree. Father Aaron hoped that the pagan spirit that inhabited its ancient frame would guard against the evils he knew imbued the casket. No one spoke about what had transpired, and everyone tried carrying on as if nothing untoward had happened. Winter had turned sharp and unrelenting all of a sudden and everyone kept very much to themselves. 

On the 5th day Cerrec was seen wondering into the village, no longer humpbacked and deformed. He staggered a little unsteadily, as if drunk, and initially no one knew him. He was unkempt and bedraggled and thought to be a drifter caught out in the cold. He was taken to Father Aaron who recognised him instantly; sending shockwaves across the village – the Cabinet had worked after all! Cerrec was cured! He was cured! And if Cerrec could be cured, and a cat brought back to life then no one need suffer again!

In one breath the crowd gathered outside the church demanding to know where the Cabinet was. No one wanted to listen to Father Aaron’s protests; no one knew anything about the man who gave them the cabinet or indeed what actually happened to Cerrec. Was he really cured? 

“Everything has its price; even this. Are you really prepared to pay what it might be?” He pleaded, but the crowd heeded it not. They forced the truth out of him and moved the Cabinet out into the centre of the village whilst trying to decide who would be the first to be cured.

In truth times were not as bad as history has painted them to be. Gladtun was far from poverty stricken or disease ridden and apart from odd touches of ague and scrofula many lived in relative health for their age, but there was but one man who didn’t think of becoming cured. One man who refused to allow those thoughts into his consciousness, but all his protestations fell on deaf ears. 

Father Aaron became ostracized, shunned and the church was abandoned for the comforts that the Cabinet seemed to give and for weeks after there were queues upon queues of people lining up to partake of its miracles and, for a while at least, all seemed well. Then came the first of the sickness.

The Devil, if they exists at all, is subtle. She bides his time; neither one thing nor t’other until the time is right for them to show their face. You could say the Devil is all the evil that sinks into people’s hearts and thoughts that they can not express or own up to; it festers and broils until it coagulates and manifests into its most concentrated form. Just as Lucien had been the instigator of the first set of misfortunes so Malthus entered the village when the sickness was at its peak… 

The sickness had slowly manifested itself as aches and cold shivering spells that many people didn’t notice at first; then there came a change of parlor from the normal ruddy pinks and browns from working on the land to the pale and yellow of death and decay. So what did the villagers do? Spend more time in the Cabinet, and for a time it still healed but the villagers found that it wouldn’t be long before they needed its wonders again…and again. Each time the spell between ‘healings’ became shorter and shorter.

It was then that Malthus entered with his tall peaked hat, severe black coat and cloak with starch-white collar, a sleigh carried a large crucifix dragged by two massive cart horses, each horse blinkered, with great blasts of steam coming from their nostrils. These were work horses, from the cradle to the grave never knowing anything more than what lie right in front of them; seeing only what they were told to see.

The villagers were scared of Malthus at first; no one had visited the village since Lucien some months before and all remembered what that had brought. He was the cause of the Sickness and what he had done to Cerrec -who had been the first of the them to die from it. No one saw Father Aaron any more, he stayed in his church; barricaded against what he saw as the rising tide of evil. No one had listened to him when Lucien arrived, no one had borne witness when he refused Cerrec’s desires to be whole and no one heeded his warnings not to use the Cabinet. Well, they were now reaping exactly what they had sown. 

Malthus looked around him, the silent oppressed square all grey and dour when the day was still bright. He smiled at the emptiness, at the now depleted church and dilapidated cemetery. He made great pains to take the cross off the sleigh horses and tried to find a way to stake it into the earth itself, but it was more than twice his height and at least half the girth of the horse. It wasn’t long though that some of the villagers came to help him, between them they managed to erect it and stand it up in the middle of the village square. By the time they had finished all the villagers, but one had gathered round, Aaron didn’t recognise this person but knew him to be some kind of agitator; little did he know how right he was.

“I’ve traveled all across the land doing the Master’s work, but never have I seen such a wretched village such as this!” Malthus cried after surveying the crowd, fondling the ocular shaped pendant on his neck. “What could possibly have befallen such a once proud place?” Over the course of the next ten minutes the crowd, reticent at first, but gaining in momentum shouted their woes out with such hardship that even the horses whinnied in sympathy. At no point did they see anything but external influences as the cause of their woes, never did they look within at their own desires, and it was this that Malthus preyed upon.

“But where is your champion? Where is your God’s protector? Why has he forsaken you?” At this the crowd quietened, hushened by this man’s admonition. 

“He hid in the church when the first of the sickness happened!” One of the villagers shouted.

“He damned us for inviting it in and not heeding his warnings!” Cried another.

“So he cursed you for not listening to him…” Malthus replied quietly, holding the pendant to his eye to bring the analogy home. The shockwave could be felt across the whole village. Despite all that had happened at no time had they seen Father Aaron as the root of their misfortunes, until now… and now they could see no other reason. The lynch party was quickly formed, and they stormed to the church doors, banging hard on the warped timbers. Father Aaron opened them slowly and all were shocked to see him frail, pale, and shaking. His eyes though had lost none of their piercing strength. 

He saw Malthus standing to the rear of the crowd, allowing them to run amok in the cemetery, and fixed his gaze on him. 

“I’ve been expecting you… or someone like you.” Aaron said, to which Malthus smiled and imperceptibly bowed.

“At your service.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

“So, you admit it then!” Malthus triumphantly shouted. The crowd look confused at such a statement, so Malthus elaborated. “I serve, as you can see, our Master; but by his own admission Father Aaron no longer follows that path. He must be the cause of the evil infecting your village!” The crowd bellowed for the Priests blood; unable to think for themselves now, they had been taken over by mob mentality which Malthus manipulated all too easily.

“Do what you will but I will take you with me.” Father Aaron snapped as he weakly launched himself at Malthus and clawed at his neck and throat. The crowd was quick to drag the two of them apart. The Father knew he hadn’t long to live, just as he knew there was only one way to end the devilish evil that had infected the village. Had he the courage of his convictions he would’ve have thrown Lucien out the moment they met; but by the time the villagers had seen the cabinet it was already too late. Now not only he was paying the price but so were the rest.  One more deed to make things right again.

“From his own action shall we know him.” Malthus cried out close to ecstasy.  “What, therefore, must be done with him?”

“BURN HIM!!!” Cried out the crowd, frenzied and deaf blind to the pain and reality of the situation. Father Aaron was already in much pain, it had taken the last of his strength to attack Malthus and it had not been for nothing. He was quickly lashed to the cross, the base of which was stacked with pitch-soaked logs and branches; Malthus had come prepared and wasted no time in setting it all ablaze.  The crowd cheered all the louder and Father Aaron cried out in agony. The calming skies now became tumultuous around them as if sensing a great wrong.

“My life for theirs!” He shouted out. “Let this last act of mine redeem the village for my sins!” he fixed the gaze of Malthus and smiled beatifically. “You lost far more in the scuffle than you know.”

Malthus could only look in horror as Father Aaron held up the eye-shaped pendant in his hand. “STOP HIM YOU FOOLS!” Malthus cried to the crowd, but no one would heed him. He tried running into the flames, but it was too late; far too late. Father Aaron dropped the pendant into the fire causing a huge thunderclap as the fire continued raging, not around the Father but around Malthus instead. He was now burning, the fire engulfing every inch of him, searing the last vestiges of his human form.

The crowd ran to help Malthus. Instead of a man burning; skin, flesh and bone; all was straw and sulfur. It was then they realised what had happened; exactly what had bewitched them and who had actually saved them. They turned to Father Aaron whose flames had miraculously extinguished, but it was too late, he was but seconds from death.

“Please forgive us, Father. We have done you and ourselves a great wrong. What shall become of us?” Cried the crowd, but Father Aaron looked at the sun that was now shining bright.

“Wrongs have been righted. … the cost is always the same. Next time be aware before it happens; that is the only sin, to never learn the lesson…. Forgive yourselves.” And with that he died.

It wasn’t long before the times caught up with the village of Gladtun and it was swallowed whole, but even now the church stands, tall and broken… dilapidated but somehow proud. However, if you know where to look you can still see the Cabinet, it looks exactly the same… Never let your curiosity get the better of you though and enter at your own risk.