Wolfwood
Sermon One: Darkness
By
C M Forde
The sun set complacently upon the seemingly endless desert sands, no creatures stirring up the dust with their paws. Everything was silent, a deathly pale that sucked out at the ends of life, promising nothing but darkness to come. Gunsmoke was not a planet for the pure, and it held no place in its heart for innocence or grace. To survive here, one had to be tainted, had to be false and deceptive, that was the grim reality. The very essence of this fact stood upon one of the many dunes, staring out at the fading light to the west, a thin line of smoke trailing from the end of a crooked cigarette. In his whole life he had met but three people who he could truly call innocent, could think of only three people in the world who had lived their lives without taint. One of these was a man who had destroyed an entire city, murdered hundreds in cold blood; and another was a woman he had betrayed, had tainted himself for his own selfish ends. The third he could not touch, she was not his, and was beyond his grasp. These three people are what flooded the man's mind as he watched the dying light of the desert sky, these three people he had failed in death as much as in life. His name was Nicholas D Wolfwood, the priest, the killer, the friend, the lover.
The gunshot rang out in the house, awakening the children from their peaceful slumbers. There was a scream from upstairs, female and frightened, a wail of grief and terror, but it only lasted a moment before a second shot silenced it as well. As the children went up the stairs Wolfwood walked down, lighting a cigarette casually as he passed them by. It was getting too easy these days, to simple to just pull the trigger and be done with it all. He had never really thought much about life or death, the idea of being a priest only an amusing side note to his blood stained life, but it used to be hard for him, every face etched permanently into his mind before a shaking hand could pull the trigger, not anymore. People were nothing more than targets, paper thin entities that he shot as easily as he tied his shoes. Regret was a thing of the past, a thing he did not miss.
Stepping out of the door and into the night, a feminine voice greeted him from the shadows. "It's like you don't even have to try anymore Nick."
He laughed, "I don't. They just line up for the slaughter, they're really getting pathetic." The priest turned as the woman stepped out of the shadows, blonde hair hanging about her shoulders and blue eyes catching the moonlight. "What are you doing here anyway Vanessa?"
The woman smiled, "Just watching you work, seeing if I might actually have to worry about you being competition."
"Well, what do you think? Am I even in your league yet?" He laughed again as his cigarette lit up his face. The priest was young, no more than nineteen, and his youthful features seemed to reflect his carefree personality.
"Nope, you're still way behind me." The woman seemed just a little older than he, mid twenties at most, and she shared his easy going outlook. It seemed as the two of them had known each other for a long time, friends obviously, maybe even lovers. "What was this one about anyway? He forget to pay his gambling debts?"
Wolfwood shook his head, "He was just a spider. A predator that needed to be eliminated before he could harm the innocent." He shakes his head as if in disbelief, "That's what they tell me anyway. I think it's a whole lot of crap. I try not to ask questions like 'why', I just do my job."
The woman nods, "And his wife?"
At this Wolfwood laughed once more, the easy laugh of a man speaking about his job, "She seemed like she really loved her husband. I figured it would be merciful to send her to the good lord along with her husband, it would be a tragedy to separate them."
A smirk crosses the woman's features, "Well what about the children? Isn't it a cruel thing to do, leaving them without their parents? Maybe you should have sent them on their way to see God as well."
At this Wolfwood spun in the darkness, a pistol in his hands suddenly pressed against the woman's forehead. She didn't have time to speak before the cold steel was against her skin, and in the red glow of his cigarette the priest's eyes burned like fire. "I swear to God Vanessa, if you ever say something like that again I'll drive a bullet through your skull, do you hear me?"
She nodded, her back quivering tightly in the night air, "Jesus Nick, yeah I hear you. Get a grip, it was only a joke."
The preist's gun didn't move, his eyes didn't change, "That's no joke Vanessa. I'm telling you right now that it's not a joke." His finger tensed on the trigger, but he didn't pull, and after a long moment he lowered the gun again. "I'm done here. How about the two of us go find a nice warm bed?"
The woman smiled again, "I'll never understand you Nick, you've got more mood swings than a pregnant woman. First you want to kill me, then you want to screw me. I'm getting a little confused."
He turned and took her into his arms, looking down at her with a roguish smile, "I thought that's why you liked me Vanessa, I'm unpredictable." And then they kissed, Wolfwood's cigarette falling from his lips to the ground, snuffing out the last light of the night, and sinking the world once again into darkness.