The pale dawn offered no rest. Father Bernard rose, his body a heavy layer on his soul, moving at the 2x speed of a YouTube video his body faster than his intuition, his mind hunted from his slumber.
The screams, inhuman in their pain, too heavy to comprehend, still echoed from the vault of his mind, leaking into his memory. Something the morning rays couldn't wash away.
The discipline of his formation, decades of carving, made him stand. He made the sign of the cross and headed for the bathroom, brushed his teeth, ran the shower, and then went to the rectory chapel.
He genuflected at the entrance and whispered, "Good morning, Lord," his eyes on the tabernacle. He opened the chapel cupboard and brought out a small monstrance, no taller than a 12 inch ruler. It shimmered in the chapel's light. As he placed it on the altar, a clear ding came from the metal sacramental, resonating in the room. He put on his stole and then the humeral veil, approached the tabernacle, opened it, and genuflected in reverence.
The Body of Christ in the Luna, designed specifically for this monstrance, was taken out and placed inside. He went to the kneeler and opened the breviary, worn and weary in his hands.
The Liturgy of the Hours Lauds felt like lifting a weight. The psalms of praise were a conscious act of will, a choice to affirm a God of light while murmurs still clung to his hearing.
It was Friday. A day of peculiar tension, where the memory of the Lord's death met the stark need for grace to deal with the screams and murmurs of his own humanity.
Pulling on his clerical shirt and Roman collar felt like adorning a suit of armour for battle. He left the comfort of his rectory with a deep breath, looking out into the unknown. He headed for his car and drove the familiar path to the secondary school he principaled.
The vibrant shouts of students were a world away from the whispered longings of the dead, yet both demanded his core.
He walked into a classroom to substitute for a teacher. To his surprise, the restless teens were actually paying attention. When students asked questions, he had to ask them to repeat themselves, sometimes up to three times.
A familiar ache, like darts to his heart, clenched his chest. He walked out of class and towards the parking lot, a grip of agony taking his breath, his vision blurring. He got to the car and began to drive, one hand on the steering wheel, the other hoping to rip his heart out.
He passed out while speeding, only to wake up disoriented an instant later. The murmur in his ear stopped, and he could now hear his headache clearly. A girl was in the middle of the street. It was too late. He couldn't react fast enough. Tires screeched and inertia did its thing. The car halted instantly. He felt an impact. It wasn't him.
The smell of disinfectant filled the air. He had made it to the hospital, but he had no idea where to go. He dragged himself to the front desk, dropping his wallet on the table, and crashed to the ground, curling into a ball.
His eyes cracked open. He jolted awake. The fluorescent light and the smell of antiseptic lingered as he lay on the hospital bed. A doctor walked in.
"Father, how are you feeling now?"
"I feel great,thank you for asking, Doctor," he replied.
"We suspect you might have a heart issue,but we can't confirm it without an X-ray. Is that okay with you, sir?"
"What is the time?"the priest asked.
"4:00,sir," the doctor responded.
He stood up, asking for his shirt and Roman collar. "Doctor, I'll come back for diagnostics and treatment." Putting his black shirt on, he saw some buttons were broken. "Doctor, I have been hearing things... murmurs in my ears. Do you "
"We will have to do some testing,but I'm sure it's just auditory hallucinations due to stress."
"Okay,Doc."
He rushed out of the hospital and into his car. He was late. The doctor rushed out after him, giving him a bottle of pills. "Painkillers," he said. "Any time you feel a dull pain, use them. A person paid for them while we helped you."
"Thank you, Doctor." He drove out, rushing to make it to his parish's evening Mass.
The car door was left ajar in his haste. He sprinted through the side of the church to the sacristy, the sound of his own labored breathing echoing, his heart a wild, painful drum in his ribs.
The chasuble and vestments were thrown on in a blur of white and green a hasty armour. Then he was there, on the sanctuary in front of the altar. A breath. A moment of forced stillness before storming the rites.
He inhaled.
He made the sign of the cross,his voice finding a sudden calm that belied the chaos of a few minutes before.
"In the name of the Father,and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."
A collective sigh from the pews.He had made it.
"The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ,the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all."
...A familiar rhythm took over, a lifeline in the turbulence.
Mass intentions: "Today we pray for Ishola, who celebrates her birthday today..." the MC1 altar server had left a note in the lectionary for him. "...and for David's mom, who passed a few days ago. May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen."
"To make ourselves worthy of this sacred mystery, let us call to mind our sins and ask God for pardon and for peace."
In the silence that followed, the murmurs in his head swelled, becoming a chorus of forgotten sorrows. The polished wood of the pews seemed to hold the breath of a thousand confessions.
Then, a single, clear footstep rang out on the marble floor. Every head in the pews twitched. Fr. Bernard's eyes scanned the empty aisle. There was no one.
The silence became brittle. He swallowed, and with a voice that rasped with the effort, he pushed on, leading the congregation into the Confiteor. "I confess to almighty God, and to you, my brothers and sisters..."
The familiar words were a rope thrown to a drowning man. The rhythm of the Mass reclaimed him, and the moment passed, leaving only a faint unease in its wake. His homily was brief, drawn from the well of his own suffering. When he raised the Eucharist "Behold the Lamb of God..."it was an act of pure faith, a nourishment he needed more than anyone.
The final blessing was given. The Mass ended just after dark. He processed out, a mask of calm over a core of pure exhaustion.
Back at the rectory, he didn't even undress. He fell onto his bed, shoes still on, and passed out, sinking into a depth of sleep too profound for dreams.
Until ding.
The ringing of a bell,sharp and familiar, woke him.
11:30 pm.