“God often works in mysterious ways. Wars may come and burn our lands, many would die of famine, and many more would suffer by the hands of their fellow men, but we should understand that even that it is within his loving plans. It is his love that we bleed everyday, and it is our duty to show it. God works his plans and we must follow without doubt, through blood, disease, famine, or death. We mus follow, lest we feel his ire”

  -Pope Vallachius Malechaide

  In the farming village of Yappis, ‘the worst village to ever exist’ as quoted by travelers, lie a small church with a dilapidated belltower. It had loose bricks that threatened to fall at any moment, giant dog sized bats that actually suck blood, pigeons that can’t stop shitting, and a boy that lived inside it.

  “Oh gosh, today’s the big day! I’m so excited.”

  Lodur was finally getting his miracle from the priests. Granted, the old monks did not like him very much, but through effort and the ability to be really annoying, he managed to convince them that he would be a perfect priest.

  No longer will he be an altar boy that scoops dung off of the floor or carry grandmothers that pissed themselves due to religious hallucinations. He’ll finally get to perform miracles like the other priests!

  He couldn’t wait to finally create food and water out of nothing, or maybe make plants grow at an accelerated rate, or maybe create fire from his finger tips.

  He really really wanted that last one though. So much so that he prayed to his God to have it every night for the past 16 years.

  He got up from his hay pile bed and rushed to the water through. He washes his face in the water and rubs his teeth with cloth to remove the plaque. He brushes back his black hair and dawns his robe that he hung on a stick on the wall.

  Gotta look good for my special day.

  He walked outside and breathed in the fresh air.

  *Cough* *Cough*

  It smelled like vomit.

  He looked up and saw the gray skies of Yappis that had dark ominous clouds. It was a relatively nice day today. Usually it would be raining and he’d be forced to go to the forest by the priests and pick yams. But today was different, he wouldn’t be doing any of that anymore.

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  He sniffed the air and smelled something stink, something different from his usual stink.

  “Aww man, why do I gotta step in poo today.”

  He moved to clean his sandals when he heard a loud yell from the church.

  “LODUR! LODUR GET IN HERE!”

  Crap, I’ll be killed if I don’t get inside right now.

  He rushed to the church and saw the other monks inside. He wasn’t allowed to live in the church like the others, but it all changes today that he finally becomes a priest.

  “Ugh” One of the priests, father Bechpeen, rolled his eyes as he saw Lodur enter. “Well don’t just stand there, get in here.” Two other priests sighed in exhaustion at the sight of him. A group of apprentice priests and altar boys sneered at him as he approached the altar.

  Usually, this was the time where the threw stones at him and called him names, but that all ends today. Finally, he wouldn’t have to dig through garbage for his next meal and would be allowed to take baths once a month. He wouldn’t have to smell like piss as much!

  Father Bechpeen, the head priest, was standing in the center of the altar, with two large fires on the side, each manned by a priest. He walked infront of the altar and bowed, making sure he pressed his head on the floor.

  Father Bechpeen raised his tired hands and glowed. He filled the area in holy light of divine origin.

  “We are gathered here today to witness another enter the embrace of our loving and all-powerful God.”

  He took out a box with a severed hand, one from the many, many saints of the church. He held it up like a child that just popped out of a mothers second set of lips.

  “With this holy relic we channel your power oh great God.”

  He pushed it to Lodur’s side and Lodur stood up to take the mummified hand.

  “He shall show devotion to our order with all his heart, mind, and body in service of our cause by kissing the hand.”

  Lodur furrowed his brows as he looked at the severed hand. It had a dim glow of divinity, a connection brought by his God. It connected deep within him now that he held the artifact.

  Okay, I just need to kiss this thing and I’ll get my priesthood.

  Lodur closed his eyes and puckered his lips. He inched closer and closer, almost tasting the rotten thing. He smelled the horrific stench of the severed hand and he opened his eyes.

  “Anytime now boy.” Father Bechpeen said in an annoyed voice as he tapped his feed with his arms crossed.

  Lodur looked at the disgusting thing. It had black nails and dirty fingers. It smelled rancid despite being bone dry. It took everything in him to not vomit immediately. Usually rotten flesh wouldn’t make him gag, but this one seemed like it could knock him out cold.

  Just a peck, you can do it Lodur.

  He leaned closer and slipped on the poo stuck on his sandals and threw the severed hand in the pyre.

  “Aaah!” Father Bechpeen yelled.

  “Aaaah!” So did the other priests.

  “W-wait, I can fix this.” Lodur ran to the pyre and slipped on the same poo on the same sandal and knocked the whole thing out, coals, embers, and everything.

  The fire spread all around the church in a blaze, catching the robes of the other priests on fire.

  Everyone yelled and ran out of the church.

  Suddenly the connection that Lodur had to his God turned sour, like a lemon that stayed too long under the sun. He felt his Gods disapproval and blackened his hands.

  He ran and tried to wipe off the marks on his hands, but it just wouldn’t rub off.

  All the priests and altar boys heaved and panted after getting out of the burning church. They witnessed a bonfire set on their place of worship, hot and suffocating.

  Father Bechpeen saw Lodur’s hands blackened and charred, like a limb dipped in tar. It was the mark of a heretic.

  “Heretic! HERETIC!” The head priest pointed at Lodur and yelled.

  Everyone chanted ‘Heretic’ in unison and started throwing rocks in his direction. Some guy even spit on him.

  That day Lodur was branded a heretic, illuminated by the burning pyre of his crime.