The Sinner and the Mortician

Winter 1441. It was snowing outside. The trees were bare, thus exposing their sharp branches. The sun was partially hidden behind the clouds. Everything seemed hazy and white. I stepped into the snow. It was cold and wet. My shoes did nothing to protect my feet, yet I was grateful. The daylight hours in the natural world were where I found solace. I could breathe at last. 

The cool breeze brushed my face and kissed my nose. I walked the forest path until I arrived at the town church. It stood in solitude in the wilderness, forgotten by the townsfolk. I stepped inside. The tall walls and columns looked down at me softly and offered their protection from the outside world. There was no priest here as he had fled the town once the crops had begun to struggle. 

I walked past each row of seats. My gaze remained fixed on the altar ahead, which displayed a carved cross above a pool of holy water. I felt as though anyone who entered could be cleansed and forgiven, which inspired me to spread forgiveness whenever I left this miraculous place. 

Then I noticed, as I approached the front of the room, that someone in rags was sitting in the right uppermost row. They were hunched on the furthest side of the bench, away from the aisle. They wore a torn cloak that concealed their face in its dark shadows. Yet their hands were exposed, large, tan and work-ridden like those of a farmer. Faint whispers of prayer could be heard, but not understood. 

I arrived at the front row, but turned to the left. His business was his own, as mine was my own. I didn’t come for conversation, only prayer. Through my prayers, I desired for my mortal sins that still lingered heavily in my soul to be absolved, so that I could thus once again work towards the endless trial of becoming a better man. 

I felt him look slightly over to me as the whispers stopped. I quickly sat down and closed my eyes. I then folded my hands to pray, yet before I could start, the man spoke. “You should not be here. Go home to the warmth of your fireplace and the comfort of your loved ones. This place is damned.” 

I opened my eyes as the man approached the altar. Curiosity flowed through my mind like a river. I decided to speak. 

“Why is that so? No sinful deed has been done here, nor has a villain entered this holy place. What troubles you, stranger?” 

The man knelt before the cross and stared down at the holy water in the pond below. “Evil has crept its way and found this place. It stares at us now, waiting for daylight to die and the moon to rise, so that it may snuff us out in the darkness where screams have no sound, and the eyes can no longer seek an escape.” He paused and tilted his head towards me as if checking to see if I still remained.

“What evil?” I inquired after his long silence provided no answers. 

The man then swiped aggressively at the holy water, splashing it onto the grime-covered floor. He slowly stood up and faced me.
 
“I am the foul being of which I speak. No good remains in my heart. Innocence has been lost at my own hands. I warn thee to flee before my lust for bloodshed grips onto my soul and transforms me into a malice unknown to man, which I regrettably delight in.” 

I paused as thoughts swarmed my brain. Why did he confess his crimes to me? Guilt? Remorse? And if these emotions held true to his reason for confession, were these emotions not human? Man repeats his mistakes often at his own demise and speaks ill of himself in hand. Maybe this man who spoke to me was no different. For if he were a demon, as he speaks of himself, wouldn’t he simply delight in the sin he had committed? 

He soon continued. “Flee now or your youth shall go forever unlived.” 

Sensing my lack of apprehension, he froze. I could tell he felt uncertain about what to do at that moment as I remained still in my seat. I looked upon him, specifically at the void where his face would be if the cloak had not blocked it from my sight. 

“You speak of transformation, meaning that the wickedness that you speak of is not who you are now and this is confirmed by your persistent warnings to save me from this other side of you. So I ask you, my poor friend, speak to me of yourself currently, not of these sinister intentions of your other half,” I said.
 
“There is no division between me and this immorality,” he replied. “For if I am the host of this evil, am I not also committing the deed?” 

“You are right, my friend, in terms of body, but of mind, this holds untrue. It is like when a dog is sent by its master to catch a bird. You cannot blame the dog for killing the innocent bird if it was commanded to do so.” 

“Don’t speak to me of dogs! Is not the human mind more complex, more sophisticated?! I can control my actions, but I am too ignorant to know how.” 

“Then do you not wish that you weren’t so?” 

“I abhor my existence due to these crimes and my strange pleasure in them. If evil is not me, then how is it that I do such things? Is my mind two halves of two morally estranged men? One revolted by wickedness and burdened by remorse, and the other unbothered and joyous in his wrongdoings? How can that be so?” He paused and then continued. “I wish no longer to speak…Leave me be.” 

I remained silent as I questioned whether I should stay or flee. I could converse with this lost soul and assist him in his quest for grace, or I could heed his warnings and avoid a horrible fate. I looked upon the stained glass windows, portraying various biblical scenes, and thought of the mercy this place granted me. It would only be right for me to return this gift by placing some of it upon another. Possibly God had meant for us to meet, so that through being of service to this man, I could show my worthiness to be accepted in heaven. I decided I would stay, and so I spoke. 

“You are indeed troubled by your crimes, regardless of the source from which they originated, so why not detain yourself in a prison where you can no longer commit these crimes that pain you so?” 

He let out a loud laugh and responded. “Death would be the only prison offered to me, and though I despise myself so, I shall not throw away this precious life that I’ve been granted.” He paused and added hesitantly, “I do not know what makes you stay when I have confessed such things to you, but I insist, ever more, and even beg that you leave. Go back to your home before night falls upon us.” 

“I shall go since that is your wish, but I wish to ask you one last question.” 

Though he at first shook his head in disagreement and walked away from me in quiet rage, he soon returned, and his silence gave me freedom to continue. 

“Did you come here for forgiveness?” 

He was silent as he bowed his head in shame and then hesitantly looked up towards me. “Yes, though I know it cannot be so. I am unable to stop myself from doing these crimes, and does not action speak louder than words?” He paused. “Now leave! Forget this day and head home quickly! Before-!” 

Suddenly, his body twisted backward and crashed back down into his hands. His screams echoed back from the cathedral walls. I remained frozen as I wished to aid this poor man, yet didn’t know how. The sunlight that once beamed through the windows was suddenly gone as sunset laid to rest the day’s bright warmth. All that was left was the cold darkness. 

“Friend! What is wrong?! Can I not alleviate this pain you suffer from?!” I called out as he continued to cry out in anguish. 

However, soon all became piercingly quiet until at least he spoke, though his voice sounded hoarse.
 
“Do not go. I am fine. I’m a sick man of body and mind. Stay with me longer. Keep me company.”
 
He crept closer as he continued. “We have spoken much of me and yet none of you, my newfound companion.”
 
His tone was no longer regret-stricken and mercy-seeking, but confident and sure of itself. The air around me felt thick and clumpy as I breathed it. My veins felt as though they were shot with electricity as fear struck me intensely with each step he made.
 
He spoke further. “Let’s begin with your appearance. Youthful. Full of life and hope. Flesh still tight and firm, flowing with vigorous blood. I wish I could take this from you, as you neglect the possibility of death tomorrow or, in fact, this very night. While I, the more elder and wise, welcome the glorious reaper at each death I witness.”
 
He paused in sudden realization of the words that he had let slip from his dry lips. “It seems I trust you deeply, though I have known you for such a short time. But I order thee to not twist this statement and to trust me furthermore as I have stayed by your side though the night has fallen,” he replied. 
He paused for a moment before further continuing his monologue. 

“You see, I am a mortician. I work in the moonlit hours and see the reaper’s aftermath. I look unto the dreamless dreamers and admire their stillness as I examine the inner workings of man…But, I admit to you, my confidant, the well-established dead no longer tempt my mind. They are too lifeless, too void of emotion. So fresh ones are best, and even fresher is better.” 

He began to circle around me as disgust and repulsion tensed my body. What had happened to my pitiful friend? 

He stopped behind me and whispered into my ear. “Do you wish to know a secret?...” He waited for a reply, but I refused to respond. Words of ill intent were approaching, and I knew they’d run like poison in my body. He continued. “As a collector of the dead, no one questions how many you’ve collected, so if by daylight, a few more appear, no one is the wiser.”

He paused. Though he still hid from my sight, I could feel him begin to grin. My spine rattled as my body froze. He then added, “Do you wish to know how I did it…how I still do it?”
 
I feared his answer. If I remained silent, he would let loose a devastating truth, a confession of murder, and in hand an increased likelihood of my own, but if I replied, I felt as though I would be engrossing myself in sin. It was by speaking to such a thing, such a person, of whom I despised, that I would become revolting and inhuman to the point that I worried that even God would not forgive me. 

And so it was death or a fate worse than death. I recalled the man that I had pitied, and though he had suddenly changed, my pity remained. However, the latter grew a fury within me that yelled of the fall of man and screamed distaste for humanity. So I tried to flee into the thoughts of reason.
 
Evil in nature was no true evil. It was order. Life sustains life by ending others. Not out of enjoyment, but out of necessity. While mankind often killed to simply kill, and when it was not for their own overfilled stomachs or trophy rooms, it was over land, money, or power. Bloodlust seemed to go hand in hand with satisfaction. 

However, there is much good in the world. Generosity. Kindness. Compassion. They are human traits as well. People help each other and grow together. 

This then brought on a thought. How could I forgive half of the man and condemn the other? Would not both receive punishment if I were to report the wicked half to the law? The mercy I had felt for the entirety of the world when I first entered this holy place was flowing in and out of me. My thoughts ran on too long. 

The man sensed my uncertainty and acted upon his intentions as his game could go on no longer. He injected a long needle into my neck. The sharp pain caused my hands to instantly grab it from my neck before he could complete the fluid transfer. My vision became blurred and distorted. The walls swayed, and the floor felt as though it was moving beneath me. Was this poison? No, that would be too simple for this monster. Something worse was to come. 

I threw the needle to the ground, shattering its glass vial. I turned to face him. My heart beat so strongly that my thoughts went unheard. My arms grabbed onto his cloak as he laughed hysterically. I slowly moved my hands to his shoulders as I tried to regain my balance. I tried to look at his face in an attempt to appeal to his humanity, to his better half, but his laughter only grew loud, more arrogant. His cackling echoed in my mind, mocking my existence, my hope. A fire began raging in my skull, searing my rationality and producing a black smoke that hazed my eyes further. This was life or death.
 
Fury rose within me. Hate. Disgust. That was no human. No man under God could do such things to his own kind. I became determined to not be the unjustified prey. Adrenaline rushed through my body. I gripped onto his neck tightly. He clasped onto my wrists, but I continued. I could hear his gasps for air and his frantic movements, but furthermore, I persisted. My hold on him constricted with each maneuver he made, like that of a python. Soon, he went limp, and I dropped him onto the cold stone floor. 

I stared at what I had just done. My sanity suddenly returned to me. My hands became numb as they shook frantically. My salvation from sin was ripped from me. I had cursed this place. I was a killer without knowing it. Was malice simply a trait of all men, if not the majority? If so, wasn’t the silent kind more dangerous? But I digress.
 
Now no one could be forgiven in this place. If I were doomed, a son of good raising and morals who had lived rightly until that moment, then mankind was doomed. I shall hate others for the ignorance of their wrongdoings, as I shall never forget or forgive my own. 

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