Justice

Justice

The bitter wind tore through his long coat as he turned the corner of Little Lane. He was heading towards the cliffs. The rain had started about an hour ago and he was hoping it would stop but it had actually worsened as the evening wore on. His hat was now soggy and beginning to drip into his eyes. Now his feet were beginning to feel the cold and damp was oozing through the sole of his left boot. Rev. Sculley knew it was going to be a miserable night ahead.

He reached the end of the lane that halted at the top of a flight of steps. He stood for a moment and checked all around him. It was difficult to see through the driving rain. He was a little jumpy, but convinced himself there was nothing to worry about.

The steps went down to the beach, all two hundred and five of them. All of them were quite slippery when wet. Tonight was no exception. The final twenty were the worst ones, as at high tide they were submerged and had sea lettuce growing on them. Once, in his excitement, he had forgotten about the perils of these final twenty steps and had fallen quite badly, never to be repeated.

Men hurried past him but he didn’t mind. He’d been doing this for years and knew the ropes. Rushing at this stage didn’t do any good.

Finally after negotiating the final twenty, his first boot touched the beach. The wind was howling, the rain penetrating anything it could, but it was worth it. The beach was busy. Many men were carrying ropes, lanterns and barrels to the waters edge and back to the foot of the cliff with the prize finds.

The ship on the rocks was breaking up and the urgency to get off as much booty had started. Men ran here and there frantically grabbing as much stuff as they could. Then disaster struck. A large wave cracked over the boat swinging it around towards the beach slightly and breaking its’ mast which came crashing down onto the beach. It happened so fast, that some of men didn’t see it coming, or hear the mast break due to the vile weather conditions. One was struck down by the falling mast.

Rev. Sculley raced over to the stricken man and read him his last rights. He had had to perform this task on several occasions previously, to other unfortunate men.

The booty was carried up the steps to the top of the cliff by a human chain. When it was all in place at the top, they carried their dead comrade up the two hundred and five steps to the Church. Rev Sculley always allowed members of his flock to ‘lie in state’ until morning in the safe haven of the church. The booty was hastily carried in the same direction and taken in the front door of the Church and once again by human chain, placed in the vaults under the floor of the Church.

As the booty was being stashed away, two other men joined Rev Sculley in a small room situated at the rear of the church close to the heavy front doors. Here they set about their task preparing the dead man.

The Church was a cold strange place, not very inviting. No visitors ever went there. Only parishioners. The entrance through the main doors was like any other Church. It was a stone built building with large wooden doors with large brass ring handles and black hinges, but inside the whole place was filled with human skulls. Not in a distasteful way. No. Rev. Sculley had arranged them in the shape of a cross over the Alter and made a coat of arms out of them above the organ. He was quite proud of his masterpiece. His whole congregation were proud of him too because he was a Vicar with a difference.

Rev. Sculley silently left the men preparing their lost friend and walked slowly in deep thought to the main entrance. The doors knocked furiously against the walls of the entrance. His outstretched hand reached for one of the doors. As the Reverend was about to close the heavy rained soaked front doors again, the wind blew exceptionally hard. The last four men scurried in; they knew exactly what to do and where to go. Just as he was closing the front door he thought he heard a voice outside. He went outside to see who it was, or could it just be a trick of the wind whistling through the keyhole or windows. No. It was a large dark figure stood on the narrow straight path leading to the Church gate.

Rev. Sculley approached the figure, passing many large headstones looming up out of the ground in the dark, wet night. He was expecting to see a member of his congregation but gasped when he saw it was a very old enemy from way back.

The figure said “I promised I’d come back….” and at that point Rev Sculley felt a sharp blow to the back of his head and his world went black.