TAKEN FROM THE RIGHT AND ORDERLY NOTEBOOK OF SADFAEL THE MONK
I have had word this morning from Mr. Slush in Canterbury. I can commend his scribe for the neatness of his calligraphy, although it is not as flowery or as illustrated a text as that to which I am used to seeing. Of course it may not be a scribe at all because I am certain that Mr. Slush must be more than adequately practiced in the art of writing to have done it himself.
He apologised to me for not having more to tell, but informed me that certain tests were still being carried out on the objects he had taken away with him in his little windows and that they were proving to be very interesting – I can only hope that he is being as careful as and is taking all the precautions he can. I shall be sure to mention him in my prayers this evening.
He also mentioned that it may be necessary at some point for me to go to Canterbury! He said that it would be foolish to assume that more questions will not have arisen by the time the tests are finished and that the Church leaders will need to talk to me.
Can this be true? Should I dare to go along with this, to think that the very highest echelons of the Church - the very Hierarchy itself – gives its valuable time over to thinking of me? But more than that, Slush claims that I should fortify myself, as the Church may well be asking for my continued assistance! Me, Sadfael!
Personally I cannot see what it is that a lowly monk such as myself can possibly do that cannot better be done by somebody else, somebody more capable, for Heaven knows there are many! Especially when you consider that they have the enormity of the entire Church, with all of its vast riches and resources to call upon. Of course it goes without saying that I will give myself completely to whatever it is that is asked of me.
And in the meantime I pray for guidance as I feel, sitting here in this little village, that there is surely more I could be doing - should be doing - in my Holy mission to apprehend this Spawn of Satan and send him back to the pits of Hell where he belongs.
I still find myself wondering why the Good Lord has seen fit to bestow upon me this most difficult of tasks. Whilst I in no way wish to cast aspersions upon His ineffable wisdom, unquestionable as it is, I cannot stop myself from thinking there must be somebody better, a more able man than I, with a faith more deep and shoulders more broad who would be far better suited to the completion of this most Holy yet onerous of tasks.
I do not mean to tread in the footsteps of Saint Thomas, but I cannot help but feel a plethora of doubts creeping into my mind and assailing my beliefs in my every waking moment. Am I to believe that there is not one single person in all of God’s Kingdom who would not be more capable than I in ridding the world of this Evil foe? Geoffrey Slush is top of the page in my book.
Perhaps it is just fear and the after effects of being in the insidious presence of the Fallen Angel, but how can I possibly hope to stop my head from spinning when I spend my days and nights passively sitting here, doing nothing? All the while I rest here I find myself drawn still further away from my monastic lifestyle. I know we all have been given our own burdens to bear and yet...
Jesus Himself was made to carry His cross after all, but rather being comforted by this fact I am instead given over to the blasphemous thoughts that it was only a cross! It was two bits of wood lashed together with a length of rope! Did He undergo the sufferance that I am being put through? Yes he was nailed up and subjected to the unbearable agonies that must follow, but was He displaced without warning into a world that He could not have dreamt up even in the storms of His very wildest imaginations?
Terrible I know, but try as I might I cannot keep these thoughts from assailing my head! I know too, as do all good, God fearing Christians, that Lucifer also appeared before Christ and offered Him temptations, but do you suppose that he had amongst his Hellish weaponry at the time such things as coffee, chocolate, denim jeans, or pre-dyed, multi-hued, felt-tipped pens?
Did the Unholy One demonstrate to the Son of God how, merely by placing a silvery disc into a slightly duller coloured box, His favourite musician could be brought forth to play actually in the same room that he was standing? Was Jesus ever tempted by ‘compact disc recordings’?
I know that the longer I remain here inactive the further I will sink into this pit of depravity. My descent might be slow, but it is inevitable, no matter the strength of my resistance. It is all too much and if I do not do something soon I dread to ponder what the eventual consequences might be!
And to exacerbate my situation yet more, I also feel myself succumbing to the sin of sloth. The bed in which I sleep is so comfortable that I find myself lying-in until half past five every morning! I can only hope that no one notices!!
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