Hey everyone, Paradigm of Writing here with a brand new one-shot called Gospel of the Backwater Spell, which is quite a mouthful. This'll be my first Infernal Devices fanfiction in a LONG time, and I keep on deleting old stories in this fandom because they're never good enough. Firstly, this story contains foul language, gore and violence, and other infidelities. Secondly, the word Gospel is in the name. The character Magnus in this story plays a preacher, who condemns non believers of the Christian faith that they'll go to hell and all that fun stuff. I'm religious and in the Christianity faith... so I'm borderlining some stuff I believe in. There will be religious talk! Thirdly, OOC is to be expected, for this a dark and grisly tale of a town scared by the Bible that makes them do unbelievable things to escape the wrath of the Lord... and a man called the Undertaker. Fourthly, this is an AU. Characters are doing different things than normal, for example Magnus being a preacher. Be warned, this is not for the faint of heart. Messages that I normally do not write or riddled throughout the one-shot. I hope you enjoy Gospel of the Backwater Spell.
Ragnor Fell wiped the sweat off of his forehead, this brow glistening in perspiration. The sun was blazing down on the road with the intensity of a magnifying glass shining on a cockroach on the ground. Pastor Magnus Bane complained about the power going out in Backwater just down the road, and none other than Ragnor Fell, the only electrician in Backwater was elected to go and find the cause of the power outages. Part of the bolts that held the posts together had come loose, and he to climb the wooden beam and screw the bolts back into place.
Problem was... the beam he had to sit on was a good fifty foot drop, and that could kill a man if he landed an inch off center. The fall could break his neck in one snap, and death was essentially staring him in the eye. Ragnor knew better than to question Magnus on the decision of whether he should've been the man to participate in the undertaking. No one questions Father Bane and gets to keep his life. Magnus did everything with consent from the Lord. Disrespecting the pastor was like flipping your middle finger off to the Lord Almighty.
Ragnor gripped the wooden beam with his two hands, positioning his legs so he was ready to climb. He winced, ignoring the pain from the splinters jabbing at his digits. As he began to climb, he heard two sounds enter his location. One was the heavy cawing of a murder of crows, the pack of birds flying overhead. Ragnor frowned. Crows were common in Backwater, a few inhabited the place. However, when a murder of them came flying in... it meant something was up, and that Pandora's wrath was to be issued on all who dared stay in the path of the destruction heading towards you. The second noise was more chilling, for a dark tale came along with it. The rattling of a bicycling chain could be perceived to be coming from the north, heading towards Backwater. If the chain noise was the simple rattling of a fence, that didn't bother him. However, this rattling had Thantos in its grasp.
The noise was accompanied by whispers, chilling jeers from an abyss of black. Legend has it that when someone heard this noise, it meant the Undertaker was coming to make a very special visit at your door. The Undertaker went by another name that barely anyone knew, for once you learned it... you were already dead. Myths from all over told of a man who came riding in on a bicycle, a rickety old wooden child-like mode of transportation. He was called the Undertaker, a nickname a little child cowering from the stranger's presence had screamed at the person before meeting their inevitable end. Rumor has it that the Undertaker leveled the entire town to nothing, that there were no survivors of his visit and that the entire town was in shambles. The scariest part of this is that the Undertaker was said to never lift a finger on anyone, they simply died due to pure fright and terror.
Ragnor swung his legs over the beam, inching closer to the unhinged bolt and wire when he heard the crack. He froze, and stole a glance back down the beam, where a fault line fixated itself on the wooden stick. A loud roaring rushed into Ragnor's ears as the beam splintered off from the rest of the pole, sending him down a fifty foot drop. The poor man fainted before he hit the ground, the last known sound to ever hit his ears was his own neck snapping in two from the impact, his body an exact inch away from keeping him alive.
The bicycling noise had gotten closer from the time Ragnor fell, to the last moment the murder of crows above had dispersed. A lengthy shadow of a man on a bicycle stopped at the fallen Ragnor Fell. The stranger sighed, and got off his bike. Grabbing a measuring tape from his back pocket, he measured how long Ragnor's body was. The murder of crows began cawing louder and louder, till the only sound you'd hear was the ear-scraping screech of birds. As the stranger put the measuring tape away, two black wings broke out from his back, matching the onyx stains in the cloud from the crows flying around.
Gabriel Lightwood choked his small banjo tighter, letting the sand dunes of Backwater blow his into face. The scorching sun sent petite critters like mice and snakes of miniature size fleeing into the bushes. Gabriel solemnly looked down at his cup, the little container only holding a measly dime in it. He was homeless, and had been sitting in his same spot by the church to ask people for spare change, or sing hearty tunes for a nickel. He had two people ask him, both times they were the same person. He knew of all the old tales about the Undertaker, and the whispers of this mysterious person had touched the secluded area of Backwater. It was all people talked about. Undertaker this, undertaker that and blah blah blah... it was annoying as hell. The only other topic the citizens of Backwater ever gossiped about was how wonderful Father Bane's sermons were on damnnation, saving yourself from the eternal furnace, and singling out people who never believed. Gabriel wasn't much for religious beliefs, but he definitely knew that you couldn't win over people's hearts by fear.
Gabriel strummed his banjo and began to sing an old folklore of the Undertaker whenever he came to town. "The shadow of the Undertaker creeps across your floor. Lock up your children, save them from the stares of the old. Paint blood upon your door! The hills are tainted with whispers of crying, screaming trills of murderous love and spills of doom. Forget all-"
Up on the hill, Father Magnus Bane, pastor of Backwater Town burst through the doors of his church. Gabriel quickly harped his voice louder, causing a snarl to erupt from Magnus's throat. Magnus Bane was a sickly figure of 5'7, with a hunched over back and pot belly. His white mop of hair greasily clung to his skull and neck, sliding down his body like a sticky, melted stream of marshmallows. His black eyes as edgy and creepy as night pierced through Gabriel, the expression full of contempt and hate. His leather face was cracked from being out in the roasting sun for too long, years of drug and alcohol abuse also showing signs of chalk lips that were so fragile, even the dust could cause them to split. Magnus narrowed his eyes down at Gabriel. Smiling blissfully, Gabriel waved back.
He was homeless, always had been. Father Bane hated the homeless, they kept his place crowded for people who actually wanted to come and worship the Almighty, not to sing homey, campfire tunes. "Will you be joining us for the service, laddie?" he called down the hill where Gabriel sat.
Gabriel shook his head no. "I'm alright Father Bane, but I appreciate your offer."
Magnus sighed heavily, then turned into the church. "Woolsey, ring the church bell! Time has come yet again to give these cretins a little taste of the light!"
The church door shut again, leaving Gabriel all alone. He began to sing again. "Fear the Undertaker, for he comes when you want it. He's omnipresent, and always around. His wrath shall extend, and squash the bug on your lap. I-"
He was cut off yet again as Woolsey Scott, a lackey who did each and every one of Father Bane's whims, rang the church bell within the steeple. The gong noise reverberated throughout the vicinity, freezing Gabriel's spine whenever he heard the ominous moans echo within the rejuvenating sound. He strummed the instrument one more time to sing out the last verse when someone hit his shoulder, followed by another. The townspeople were going to church, filing up the hills like zombies who hadn't had a meal in years. You could practically see their rips poking through their clothes, ghoulish shadows elongating like tree limbs across the ground. Atop the hill, inside the church, Magnus smiled to himself. His calls never went unanswered, his people were far too skittish and reliable to not come to the sessions.
He opened the church door, letting the citizens of Backwater enter the sanctuary. Magnus wistfully stared at the homeless boy cramping his yard. "Submit to the lord, boy. Unless you don't know what's good for you, I suggest you partake in it!"
Gabriel leaned on his banjo, strumming the strings with his fingers. He smiled innocently. "Well then, Father. Why don't you try submitting first?"
Magnus's kindling light flared in his eyes, a sneer spreading across his face. He slammed the doors to the church this time, a heavy and dull bang ringing out from the hall. Gabriel, perched on a box, jumped. Magnus Bane was no ordinary preacher, for he ruled with an iron fist that commanded all to subsequently bow to the Lord's feet and to kiss them with a fiery passion.
God was to be glorified, but not in the same way you'd lustfully attack a woman.
Magnus slammed the bible on the podium, the congregation snapping out of their sleeplike trance. The people of Backwater sat in pews, four rows of sixteen fitting inside the small church. The audience stared at Father Bane with a dead look in the eyes until Magnus screamed a howling prayer at the ceiling, instructing the group to partake in it as well. A wooden sign was nailed into the wall behind Magnus, the sign reading 'Fear the Lord or perish forever'. Cheery. An organ that looked like it would fall apart at any moment was in the corner, the instrument having been ignored for as long as Gabriel Lightwood had been alive.
Magnus placed one finger in the air, one atop the bible on the podium. "One bad apple," he shouted at the crowd. "One bad apple is all that is needed to spoil the entire barrel. Have one spoiled fruit in the patch, and the entire field is disgusting along with it. Wouldn't you not want to save the entire barrel from God's demeaning and ever watching wrath? Throw the damned fruit out!"
Outside, a crow had perched itself on the roof of the church, cawing a familiar tune to anyone that heard it. Outside, Gabriel looked up at the bird, shuddering as the cries rattled inside his brain- it only meant one thing was coming. The Undertaker was on his way to Backwater, ready to punish someone. Back inside the church, Magnus had flipped open the bible in anger, spewing out scriptures with a fiery tongue, cursing in foul tones that would rotten a person's ears.
"If you were to destroy that bad apple, one of you would have to take the blame," Magnus drilled, pointing accusingly at his watchers. "It is said that once, in the sacred city that everyone was punished by a single man's sin! That punishment was death, rightful murder at the hands of the Lord! We do not want our world, our quiet little town to be plagued by this monstrosity."
A tap came from the window, cutting Magnus off in the middle of his tangent. It was Gabriel, who was smiling wickedly. "The Undertaker is coming to Backwater," he said gleefully, pointing his thumb back out from behind him. "He's coming for you!"
A murmur spread through the crowd. Tessa Gray covered her mouth, a youthful girl of twenty who always was rooted in faith. "Who's he coming for?" she cried, tears threatening to spill down her face.
William Herondale, Tessa's boyfriend, stood up sharply. "Well it sure as hell will not be me! I'm getting the fuck out of here!" Just as he promised, William ran from the chapel, screaming the entire way.
Chaos erupted throughout the assembly, people standing up abruptly and running out back into town. Pews were thrown against the wall, hymn books slammed to the floor. "Children," Magnus called out weakly. "Do not abandon me! Children of the Lord, stay where it is safe!"
The grin on Gabriel's face grew wider, and he made his way to the front of the chapel, as Woolsey Scott even barreled past him. No words of comfort from Father Bane could save him now. Gabriel watched in amusement as colorful terms in the English language came spewing out of Magnus's mouth. "That bible will not save you any longer pastor. Face the doom coming down the road or let your flesh rot off their sickly bones of old."
Magnus screamed, chucking a wooden cross at the homeless singer. "Get the fuck out of my domain devil, you have no place here!"
Gabriel ducked, laughing the entire way as he skipped down to his banjo. The doors to the chapel slammed shut on their own. Magnus bit his lip from his spot next to the podium, and raced down the steps of his church, past all the strewn around books and pews. He pressed his face to the window, wanting his own proof that the Undertaker was coming to town as Gabriel had said. A lump formed in his throat as he saw the mass of shadow fly down the road, a large group of crows flying from the north. No amount this large of the bird had been seen in Backwater before. Under the flying onyx cloud, was a bicycle rider, a body in tow behind the bike. The Undertaker had already claimed his first victim.
Gabriel stood in the middle of town by the well, sipping water from the hole down below in the ground. His banjo lay in the dirt, getting cleaned off by a snake spitting it's viscous acid on the instrument and rotting away the wood. He was done with singing, only reverting to speak the Undertaker tune. "The Undertaker knows no Master. He drinks from the cups of kings with old souls, gives warning to those who are scorned. No man, no woman is free from his glaring eye. He is the devil, ready to spawn his evil and take flight. The Undertaker is holding all truth, no bias to his actions. He'll be long dead by the time he tells a lie."
Getting off his bicycle, the Undertaker stepped slowly into the center of Backwater, only a hundred yards from Gabriel who wasn't even deterred by the presence of someone who was feared from all over. Pulling out his measuring tape, he measured the ground around him. Gabriel watched the Undertaker in fascination, for no matter how many times he's seen the ritual, the process happens differently every time to prepare for the hell that follows.
Magnus crept out of his hiding spot in the chapel on the third day, going from house to house with a copy of the bible. Handing the books out to each person in the town, the houses began to uplift in song and the screaming of prayers and scriptures to ward off the evildoer sitting and prepping his work space in the center of town. Magnus even dared to try and hit the Undertaker, the pastor being knocked back by an invisible energy. Gabriel caught the leader of Backwater in his arms, who then fled back up the hill to make sanctuary in his domain.
Gabriel drew pictures in the dirt, pausing to peek glances at the Undertaker. He knew his true name, the only person to ever know the Undertaker's name and live to tell about it. He never spoke the name to anyone, for the risk of being killed. Just like the town before Backwater, it was soon to be destroyed by malice and paranoia. The Undertaker never had to lift a finger, the doom came upon the citizens of the said area by their own faults.
The Undertaker was dressed all in black, like a mourner on the way to a funeral. A flowing midnight cape snapped in the low breezes of the valley, a scimitar hooked into a fold of the cape. A medallion painted a crisp halcyon flashed between the folds of a black suit, the only light in a sea of darkness. The medallion was in the shape of a star, the tips colored a muted grey.
On the eighth day of sitting in silence where no one moved from their spots inside their houses, a low ringing sounded throughout Backwater. It was Magnus, who had rung the church bell. He was calling the town to church. Sunday had rolled around again, and mass could not be missed. Had people not come back in for worship, Magnus might've dragged them from their homes, the people kicking and screaming the entire way as if they were being dragged into the pits of hell itself.
People slowly trudged out of their houses, this time carrying weapons. Tessa brought with her a knife, William carried a pitchfork. If Gabriel thought the people of Backwater were zombies normally, you should've seen them this time around. Their faces were all sunken in, revealing the cheek bones of the jaw. Instead of cheerfully, glowing eyes, each one was filled with a dull and senseless tone. Gabriel wished to just hide into the dirt when one would pass by.
As the last person of Backwater trickled into the chapel, a piercing thought broke into Gabriel's skull. It held the raspy voice of the Undertaker, a voice he knew too well. "It is time Gabriel. Backwater will be brought to its knees by the gospel they cower under. I thought this town would be different. Alas, I was wrong. Razing will begin soon. I just hope you are ready to do your part, for it's always the most unsettling. Their deaths won't bother me. Yours will."
"This is a test people," Magnus shouted to the populace of Backwater who were seated inside his church. "The Lord God Almighty is testing us! For seven days we have tormented under the Undertaker's whim because that one speckled fellow out on the center of town won't submit to the Lord! How much longer must we take this sin till we rot and decompose into the ground? Remember, one rotten apple is all you need to spoil the entire barrel. For one person's sin, it punishes everyone else. That punishment is death! We must crush the soul and vanquish his wicked ways! The Lord wants that bad apple destroyed. It will be done by his sword, with the word in our hand! Look under your seats, we have the weapons at our disposal."
Every person sitting in the pews reached under their seat, pulling out a rock that had been taped to the seat. Woolsey held the rock up with uncertainty. "What are we to do with this rock, Father Bane?"
"The Lord has spoken to me citizens," Magnus announced. "We must cast the spawn of the Undertaker out. He, Gabriel Lightwood is decreed to death by stoning! Go, and do the duty of Heaven, unless you want to face the wrath that is bestowed with disobeying."
The entire church emptied in seconds, every citizen of Backwater racing down the hill to destroy the bad apple. Magnus smiled to himself cruelly, and clutched his bible. He picked up the wooden cross that was on the floor, from the time Gabriel had dodged it being thrown at his head. Magnus put the cross in his pocket, still holding the holy book of God. He pushed open the chapel doors, and slowly walked down the ravaged hill. It was starting to storm, rain pelting the ground as hard as hail. Thunder clashed in the distance, a weather symphony bursting out into Backwater.
The roar of an unruly crowd hit his ears, long before we even reached Gabriel's cowering body, hidden in the shadows of the townspeople. Gabriel's eyes were small, they had shrunk due to the fear of the Lord hitting him full force. "The Lord lays pity on you, young soul. Repent, and I shall cast my people away from you."
Gabriel, in the full face of death smirked. "The true one I listen to is behind you, the Undertaker! Axel Mortmain holds no man of his that is not his own to their word."
A gasp collected in noise among the townspeople. "He knows the Undertaker's name," Woolsey said in horror. "He is the spawn of the evil himself then!"
Magnus felt the grin widen, he was enjoying this too much. He shoved the bible closer to Gabriel. "He who is without sin, cast the first stone!"
A barrage of rocks came flying through the rainy sky, slamming into Gabriel. Blood gushed out of his nose, his head... everywhere. With a ferocious growl, Woolsey stepped forward with a hammer, and swung it down at Gabriel's forehead. The tool embedded into his skin, and the boy fell back dead against the ground. Blood pooled out from his body, leaflets of crimson colliding to form a lagoon of red in the dirt.
Magnus closed his eyes once for the dead soul, even if he believed that the person was truly evil. The rain kept pouring down, lightning flashing among the storms of precipitation. "Good work children, the Lord will be pleased."
"He was not the one I was after," a voice in front of the people of Backwater said. "Gabriel Lightwood was not the soul I was after, he was good to me. I'm the Undertaker, or Axel Mortmain for a mortal counterpart. I take no prisoners, and I never give hints."
Magnus froze, and turned to the Undertaker. "You... you spoke. I-"
"Find out who is the culprit, and I'll leave!" Axel announced, his wings bursting from his back.
"It certainly wasn't me!" Tessa cried out, wrenching her knife from her pocket.
"I know that I'm not the one he was after!" Will cried.
"Maybe... maybe it was Father Bane?" Woolsey piped up, turning to face the leader of the town.
Magnus paled. "Me?" he gulped.
"Yes, it was you," a townsperson shouted out in terror. Charlotte Branwell clutched her gun to her chest tight, the barrel pointed at Magnus. "You brought this doom upon us!"
Magnus didn't get to defend himself as a bullet whizzed through his forehead, shot in the face by Woolsey himself. The pastor of Backwater flopped to his knees, blood tainting the ground a murky brick color.
"Did we kill the person now?" Tessa asked, the rest of Backwater hiding behind her, covering the bodies of Gabriel and Magnus.
A haunting laughter came from Axel's lips. "Nope! Wrong man!"
"It'll never be me!" Will cried out, then he stabbed Tessa in the back.
It didn't take long before the rest of the town tore each other to shreds, no questioning of who the Undertaker was really after. Axel watched in sickening amusement as a villager no older than 17 had his head chopped off by his own mother. Charlotte screamed as her husband Henry drove a blade into her neck, twisting the weapon in her skin, the river of life spurting from the wound. The rain kept coming down, the lightning kept flashing, and the thunder kept on booming, but the people of Backwater continued to murder each other while Axel Mortmain watched. The inhabitants of Backwater all were dead within the hour.
Axel sighed, running a hand through his hair. The weather had cleared out, making for a gorgeous rainbow to appear behind the chapel up on the hill. The building would never have another seminar or mass on Sundays, their preacher and it's inhabitants were all dead. Blood was everywhere, coating the ground in a grotesque cardinal glow. Axel felt the blood stream across his toes, his bare feet rippling pools in the pool of red.
He crouched next to Magnus Bane's body, pulling out his measuring tape. He felt a presence behind him, one of familiar atmosphere. "Backwater lost everyone within an hour. Record timing. I didn't think anyone or anything was as low as Tiber last year, but I was sorely mistaken."
Gabriel Lightwood crouched next to Axel. "That rock fucking hurt sir. I mean, how many times do I have to die just to get the bloodshed going?"
Axel shrugged, moving to the next body as Magnus's decomposed at a rapid speed into the Earth. "As many times as it takes Mr. Lightwood. Your my prophet, the person I put in my stead to forewarn the society to change their ways. Backwater had to be destroyed, because this is a place ruled by terror and fear. You cannot place people into a religion by command, it is not a susceptible and orderly way of obtaining followers. That's why I destroyed my home town and got you to gain my cause. You know that religion cannot be ruled by an iron fist. That is where Father Bane fell short."
Gabriel nodded. "You resurrect me, and we move to another town by tonight?"
"You are correct in that assumption sir. Just bear with me, there are far too many casualties here."
Gabriel let Axel be, and walked into town, whistling the Undertaker tune to himself merrily. Axel Mortmain was thirty years old, and he had been born with a pair of wings attached to his back that he could spread at will, and involuntarily when something disastrous was going to happen. His home town of Tiber was a Christian community, the people of it however being led to the Lord in a wicked way. After practicing the art of resurrection, he brought along with him Gabriel Lightwood, a young lad who believed in the same ideals and that religion could not be obtained by forcing others into it. Those were the rotten apples, the communities that forced people to succumb.
It only takes one bad apple to rotten all the rest. That apple must be destroyed.
Each town that got destroyed was considered a gospel, a retelling of the town's history and downfall.
This particular one was the Backwater Gospel.
Sad thing is, there are many more gospels to be made.
The Undertaker knows no master.
He knows no bias.
He always destroys everything and everyone.
But, he never ever lifts a finger.
The people do that to themselves.
Well, there you have it people! That was the Spell of the Backwater Gospel. I do apologize if this has offended anyone on any level, and it was not my intention of bringing that up. I created this story to make people aware of religion is not supposed to be, and if it is... they're doing something wrong. I hope you enjoyed the story, and if so, leave a review or follow/favorite! Those make my day all the time, and I cannot wait to read your comments! Thanks for reading you guys, I love you all! See you next time, hopefully on Friday of this week! Bye!
~ Paradigm