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avenue, he was alone. Harry White walked, and stood, alone.
And in his loneliness he could feel himself once again being crushed by the crowd watching the St. Patricks day parade. Parade? Today? When? When was Fifth Avenue a sea of green with bands and policemen and sanitation men and drum majorettes and two-bit politicians????
Centuries? Eons????
A lifetime ?
He walked around the cathedral, painfully bending his head back from time to time to look up at the spires and gargoyles. The massive structure seemed almost to penetrate the heavens and looked as if it could not be disturbed, as if it would remain securely and imperturbably there for eternity.
He stopped next to the steps and waited, then climbed the steps and waited in the darkness next to the massive doors. He leaned against the stone and the cold pierced him to his bones, but soon he adjusted to it and clutched his package and huddled deeper into his heavy jacket. He settled himself into the cold darkness and waited, staring at the spot between his shoes.
Time moved slowly but inexorably. But time was meaningless. There was a time when time had been of the utmost importance, when there had been some sort of vague timetable in the back of Harrys mind, a schedule for success, a schedule that he had bettered. He had arrived ahead of time. There was a time when the schedule, that timetable of achievement, had been everything, but then as he achieved his various goals, they became increasingly meaningless, and still he pushed and pushed, but where? He had arrived. Where now? Where?
Yes,
once time had been an important and tangible substance in his life, but not now. Now he would just lean against the wall and look at the spot between his shoes and allow time to pass and sometime it would be morning, Easter morning, and the doors would open and he would enter the cathedral. All that would happen. Sometime. Time was no longer important. Not now.
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As the night progressed toward morning, the cold became more and more penetrating, but he remained immobile. As the sun approached the horizon on this day of Resurrection, a few others joined Harry outside St. Patricks Cathedral. A couple of attempts were made to engage him in conversation, but he either ignored them or shrugged them aside and remained isolated from the others who stood with him in the cold darkness of Easter morning.
As dawn approached the line grew longer and soon there were hints of light in the sky and then there were sharp shadows as the sun moved through a cloudless and undisturbed sky. The conversations became more animated and joyful as the warmth of the sun reached those waiting. There were constant glances at watches, and sounds of early morning traffic helped bring in the new day. Harry was vaguely aware of TV crews setting up their equipment, and he heard someone mention that the service would be televised all over the world, that probably 200,000,000 people would be watching as Cardinal Leterman served mass. Then the sound of the huge carved doors being opened made the new day official. It was now Easter Sunday.
Harry
clutched his package and entered. He walked slowly and unerringly to the seat he had picked out in his mind. He walked to the first row of pews, then moved to the left, and sat. And waited.
The area between his feet changed in texture and color, but it was all the same to Harry as he stared and clutched his package under his jacket. He remained oblivious to the hushed movements of the people entering the church and kneeling and praying as they fingered their beads. The organ was very low and blended in perfectly with the sounds of the worshipers.
The spot between Harrys feet became brighter as the sun continued to rise, and the stained-glass windows glowed with life, and the warmth of the life of love in the glass filled the massive cathedral and warmed its heavy stone.
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THE LORD HAS INDEED RISEN, ALLELUIA. GLORY AND KINGSHIP BE HIS FOR EVER AND EVER
The suns light started reaching into corners and alcoves and little recesses and softly and tenderly relieved the darkness from Christs Passion in the Stations of the Cross
The Lord be with you. And also with you. Peace be with you. And also with you.
and the impassioned plea for the forgiveness of mans sins from the Son of Man, and the sweet, bright lives in the windows looked with love upon those Stations and Passion and upon all of those celebrating the Resurrection and exalted them to praise God in the highest
We pray that the risen Christ will raise us up and renew our lives. Amen.
and Harry still stared at the same spot, not seeing and not hearing the overwhelming beauty and joy of peace and love that surrounded him, but stayed so completely within himself that all he could feel was the pain and overwhelming despair that he found in the corners and dark recesses, and the huge cesspool that he felt he was, and could not get away from
. . , He went about doing good works and healing all who were in the grip of the devil, and God was with him. . . .
and all that he could feel was an all-pervading sickness that seemed to flow through his body and into his arms and legs and fingers and bones and the sickness was almost visible within and its hideousness and grotesqueness fed itself and the sickness became more and more intolerable and all he could do was
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stay within himself and become more and more a part of his disease
... To him all the prophets testify, saying that everyone who believes in him has forgiveness of sins through his name.—This is the word of the Lord Thanks be to God.
and clutch more tightly to his package and his gut and bend a little more under the weight of his own hopelessness and become more and more appalled at what was about to happen and unable to find the means to yell out, No, and retreat but only able to follow that grinding apprehension in his gut that seemed to sap the very fluid from his spine and the marrow from his bones, leaving his legs so weak he could barely stand to sit,
... His mercy endures forever. This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad.
and dragged him unremittingly deeper into that which terrified and appalled him, and the voice of the Cardinal floated through the bright, slanting Easter sunlight and the worshipers knelt and bowed their heads and Harry remained motionless and the organ continued to be felt and the choir sang as the mass continued and the flood of tears sloshed around in Harry and pounded against his eyes as a sea against a cliff
CHRIST HAS BECOME OUR PASCHAL SACRIFICE; LET US FEAST WITH THE UNLEAVENED BREAD OF SINCERITY AND TRUTH, ALLELUIA.
and Harry moved with the others to the rail and got on the end and knelt and waited almost blind from everything that was surging relentlessly through him, and now time started to become alive and he was conscious of the progress of the Cardinal as he came from the other end blessing, praying,
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putting the Eucharist on the tongues of those kneeling in front of him, and Harry could hear too the organ and choir and his senses became heightened and brittle and the incense stung his nose and he could smell the velvet upon which he was kneeling and the Cardinal came closer, carefully placing the Eucharist on the tongues and blessing in a low almost muttering voice and Harry started to tremble and his vision was blurring as the Cardinal got closer and closer and when he was just a few feet away Harry went almost completely blind and could see only the vaguest of blurs in front of him and then he could feel the Cardinals surplice brush against him as he gave the Host to the man next to him and then Harry could feel him in front of him and as the Eucharist touched his tongue he thrust his hand almost unnoticeably forward and the organ screamed in his head and his whole being screamed with his soul sickness and his head suddenly jerked back and his eyes snapped open as the beloved Cardinal stood erect with his arms outstretched, his shadow forming a large cross, and his eyes staring above him and his mouth open in a silent scream and the chords of the organ thundered through the cathedral and the choir sang the alleluia as the sun shone in almost blinding brilliance on the long gold carved handle of the knife sticking out from between
the ribs of the Cardinal, after penetrating his body almost to the spine, and the Cardinals blood flowed forth splattering the fallen Hosts and the shimmering gold protruding from his body and Harry rose from his knees and leaned on the railing and looked into the face and mouth of the man of God, the light from the gold handle slashing his eyes, and shouted at him, SPEAK! FOR THE LOVE OF FUCKING KRIST, SPEAK! SAY IT! DO YOU HEAR MEEEEEEEEEE, his voice rolling and echoing through the cathedral of massive stone and light and finding the chords of the great organ and the voice of the choir and blending into music where each was lost in the other, SAY IT, SAY IIIITTTTTTTTTT, and his voice rolled off into the distance as he stared into the voiceless scream, and the bulging eyes of the Cardinal grew ever wider
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and blood spilled from that silent mouth and Cardinal Leter-man slowly fell back onto a crosslike shadow like a crucified Christ and those nearby stood and screamed and Harry leaned further over the railing and stared at the blood bubbling gently from the still open mouth as the eyes of the Cardinal stared straight above him and Harrys legs started buckling from a terrible and terrifying weakness and a hollowness like an insatiable hunger, and the sickness pounded against his head as his screams rose above those of the others and the chords of the organ, SAY IT, GOD FUCKING DAMN IT SAY IT, SAY IT. . . . PLEASE . . . and Harrys voice broke and the last words stumbled from his lips and he collapsed on the railing and was once again on his knees staring at the carved gold handle, almost invisible in the brightness of the sun, and he rolled and stumbled to the side as people stood and screamed and fell over each other trying to see, trying to help, and suddenly the voice of the choir was heard in a loud moan as it discovered what had happened and the organist fell against the keyboard forcing a shatteringly dissonant chord from the massive pipes as people stumbled from their pews and over the railing and screamed in disbelief and terror and for help and the eyes of the resurrected man of God continued to look up and those in the sunlight windows looked down and Harry bounced off and between people to the side until he fell into an alcove and turned and looked up into the eyes of the crucified ChristAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH and was knocked to his knees and crawled away and dragged himself to his feet and was squeezed by the crowd through a door and out into the sudden glare of a cloudless and bright Easter Sunday and continued to bounce off the stone of the cathedral walls and the people until he found himself stretched across the hood of a car, and he righted himself and leaned against the car feeling that terrible sickness pounding inside of him and keeping him doubled over and the horrifying sticky wet weakness in his groin that sent molten lead over his body and he pushed himself away from the car and he stumbled forward faster and
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faster through the crowd as the bells of Saint Patricks Cathedral rang and rang and rang and tolled and rang through the streets and his head and he tried to ignore that god-awful sticky semen wetness but he couldnt as his pants clung to him and a coldness shook through him and he continued through the streets to a small park and collapsed on a bench and clutched the bench desperately with his hands as everything in and around him whirled and the pain in his head and body were one, and slowly the pounding of his heart slowed and his breathing slowed and he became aware of his surroundings and time once again became time and was once again tangible and painful and he became aware of what he had been staring at, became aware of the little girl pulling up her panties and someone who looked like her grandmother as she bent over to pull down the little girls dress and adjust her new Easter coat, and Harry stared at the exposed flesh until his eyes felt as if they were being burned with a hot iron and he suddenly doubled over grabbing his gut and got up and staggered to a tree and leaned against it and puked and puked and retched as he slowly slid down to his knees and his head hung limply from his neck and he felt that his body would cave in on itself if he did not stop yet he continued to puke and retch and dribble nothing but bitter bile from his mouth and he wanted to scream but he could not even scream silently but could only sob in pitiful muteness as he knelt propped against the tree his head almost hanging in his puke and after an endless time the retching stopped and there seemed to be complete silence in the world except for the sobbing he heard and the terrifying feeling of being lost. . .
he stared
at the puke and bile a few inches from his face that was slowly, almost imperceptibly, being absorbed by the earth he was kneeling on. He raised his head slightly. He looked around. There were objects. Familiar objects. People. Some looked. Others ignored. Silence. All silent. Only sobbing . . . sobbing. His breathing slowed. Sounds. Noises. Voices. He slowly got to his feet, leaning heavily against the tree. The shadows
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were cold. The sun bright beyond them. He looked around. The grandmother and child were there. He could hear them. See them. Only them. He looked. And looked. And trembled. And looked
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO and he ran from the park and through the streets from the brightness of the sun into the coldness of shadows and stumbled along the streets until he could no longer get air down his throat and he stopped and leaned against a wall, then continued again from wall to wall, shadow to sun, from warmth to cold through a day that no longer had any time and forced his body forward with the fierce torment of his mind as he felt the sobbing finally burst through and his eyes blurred with tears as he continued down the endless streets to the tip of the island forcing himself with the knowledge that he would be able to finally silence that raging voice within him and whenever he felt as if he would collapse he heard the voice and could feel the faces behind him and he continued until he was finally on a ferry moving through the waters of the harbor and he stood on the bow, the breeze cold and cutting, and stared down at the bright green water as it rolled and foamed away from the side of the ferry and slowly he started to chuckle and then laugh as he realized how simple it would all be and he laughed louder and louder and the few people on the deck and those in the cars looked at him and frowned or smiled and he continued to laugh as he climbed up onto the railing of the ferry, people watching in silence then yelling, and he stretched his arms out to the side like a bird and leaned forward and slowly, slowly, slowly moved forward and down and split his crosslike reflection and shadow as he suddenly hit the cold water and the shock paralyzed him for a moment and then he involuntarily started to move to try and fight his way up to the surface but the weight of his heavy wet clothing and the force of the tide and undertow swept him deeper and deeper into the cold darkness and for the briefest of moments he stopped struggling and hung motionless as the truth of his life was suddenly thrust in front of him and he
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stared at this truth for a brief and infinite moment then opened his mouth in a scream but no sound came out and his mouth hung open as the last breath of his life floated in small bubbles from the cold darkness to the sun-warmed surface and was imperceptibly and silently carried to the sea.
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Hubert Selby Jr., The Demon
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