The Scripture

By J.R Grimm

In the countryside overlooking the village, stood a small bungalow with yellow siding and a sodded roof, and behind it ran a shallow yet quick brook. Inside, there lived a strange and lonesome old man who tended his gardens by day and by firelight supposedly wrote fables about dragons, woodelves, mountain dwarves, fairy-folk, witches, warlocks and other such insidious nonsensical creatures. These tales in some way, had preyed themselves upon the young children of the village. This, of course, was brought to the attention of Father Otto by a mob of red-faced and frothmouthed parents, whom had found their children pretending to wield staffs and swords and uttering phrases from other unnatural tongues. s the school headmaster, Father Otto immediately announced he would lead an inquiry into the origins of these wretched and blasphemous tales. !isela, a girl of ten-years, had eventually confessed she was given a pile of parchment one morning on her way to school by a nice elderly man in a straw-hat riding a mule. ll of these things I was only told upon Father Otto"s arrival at my door yesterday evening. #$ister %arie,& he began #'e simply cannot allow the children to read these indecent and $atanic lies. s long as they e(ist, the children will be tempted to believe them.& #'hat will be done, Father)& #*our teaching duties for tomorrow will be suspended, and I will instead need you to find this devil-ridden old man.& #+ut Father, I do not own a horse or wagon.& # h, *es, well, please come by the school stable tomorrow e(actly one hour before class begins. I will have the boy outfit you with my very own.& # nd the children. 'ho will instruct them)& I asked. #I will be your replacement and the lesson will necessarily be of a disciplinary nature.& #Of course.& I awoke -ust as the brooding glow of the warm sun crept through the east-facing windowsill and covered the kitchen in light. fter hatching a fire in the stove and bringing water to boil for tea and barley, I freshened, dressed, and began my prayers. I praised, repented, and asked for /is guidance on my -ourney. Once breakfast was finished and passages from scripture were read, I packed a lunch consisting of buttered cornbread, mild cheese, pickled beans, dried dates and a -ar of cows milk. The stable boy arrived slightly late to the stalls beside the schoolhouse and I quietly waited as he hitched the white horse to the black wagon. long with directions from Father Otto, I was given a sack of feed, a five-gallon -ug of water, and reigns to the horse, whose name was 'eiss. The note with directions indicated that I should e(pect a travel time of appro(imately threehours along the narrow road leading northwest out of the village. 'eiss had a good temperament and required little steering other than a sharp click of the tongue when he was distracted by the occasional passerby or small animal. The old man"s house, according to my given directions, could be found opposite of the road to an abandoned windmill which had once been used for grinding wheat into flour. It was the second week of 0une and as the sun ascended into the sky, it dried the glistening

morning dew off the vegetation and conducted a choir of songbirds to fill the light air with the voice of our good 1ord and $avior. 0ust as the beating sun was nearing the high point in the sky, the windmill appeared on the right-side of the road and I brought 'eiss to a slow trot. To the left behind a cluster of trees and tall brush emerged a gravel lane guided on both sides by freshly-cut grass, which led to a house similar to Father Otto"s description. s I pulled the horse into the lane, I noted the thin smoke rising from the chimney and a decadent flower garden through which a stone path was laid. From behind the house came the bellowing baritone bark of a hound and the trickling sound of wild water. I parked the horse and wagon under a large ash tree whose blossomed leaves formed a cool oasis from the heat. Then I reached backwards to retrieve feed and water for the horse. It was only upon dismounting that I observed the barking subsided and a gaunt old man of medium height carrying an empty watering can had appeared from the rear of the home and was briskly walking towards me. # lo,& came the cheerful greeting from a few paces away. I replied, #!ood morning to you sir.& /e had reached the horse as it was drinking and proceeded to gently pat its shoulder and rub its nose. # magnificent beast this is. 1ook at the way his sweat-soaked mane glistens, even in the shade.& /e turned towards me and the gravel rasped under his pivoted heel. #*es, indeed a truly marvelous creature of !od.& I responded, placing the sack of feed on the ground. The man nodded with his eyes set to the ground and he pulled his hat a little lower on his head in hesitance. #Tell me, do you arrive here bearing the teachings of 2eter or 1uther)& #2ardon me sir, but what is your name)& #%y apologies $ister. *ou may call me /err Faulk.& #/err Faulk, I am here on behalf of the 3hurch and Father Otto. The nature of my visit is in concern for the village and its holy sanctity.& I said. The tanned skin over his face I can only describe as alike to dried leather. it collapsed under his cheeks and tightened around his unshaven -aw, and the sockets beheld sharp gray eyes that simultaneously bemused and threatened. t this moment, his eyes had wrinkled in the corners and a faint smirk stretched across his lips. #/as the 3hurch come to honor me) Or have I sinned)& #4very man sins and requires the salvation of 3hrist. Our worry is about the fragile village children who have become impressed by your false tales of magical wood creatures and associated witchcraft.& I paused and continued, #$imply, /err Faulk, we have learned that you are responsible for these unholy stories spreading to our youth. The 3hurch demands that you cease doing such absolutely&. The old man was silent. /is posture did not change. I noticed that my breath was held. #/ave you read my tales)& #5o. I have no inclination to sin in the face of !od.& I said sharply. #4nlighten me, $ister. 'here do I sin)& #*our stories are lies and they defy the power of !od. 'arlocks and witches are the consorts of the devil. %agic does not e(ist, only /is divinity and grace are true.& #They are -ust stories my dear $ister. I mean no harm to the 3hurch or the children of the village.& #$o you will cease)& I asked.

/e turned and walked up the stone path towards the house, and once he reached the front steps he placed the watering can by the door and beckoned that I follow him into the house. cool bree6e lifted my veil and I hesitated for a moment while thinking about my safety. I told myself he was -ust an old man. 7nder my breath I uttered a quick prayer and lifted my dress over my feet to scurry along the path. The door was a--ar and as I peered in I saw his living area was simple and clean. Two rocking chairs sat facing an already subdued fireplace, and on the floor between the chairs was a rug that looked to be a deer hide, and in the corner there was a desk with an oil lamp, several books, ink, and pieces of parchment atop. From a tiny kitchen in the ad-oining room, he emerged holding a wood-carved goblet of water. #*ou must be thirsty $ister& he offered. I thanked him and continued to stand in the doorway. #I am certain you have be going, and I have no desire to keep you here much longer.& /e said as he moved over towards the desk in the corner and picked up a heavy leather-bound book. #This is my +ible. I have owned it for a period that far e(tends your own life. It was also my father"s.& he said. #The 'ord is necessary for eternal salvation, therefore it is good to have.& I said. # nd what does it teach)& #It guides us through the trials of life and prepares us for tribulations.& #+ut how does it guide and prepare us)& #'e read and are told to have faith in the good 1ord 8 the 9ing of kings.& I responded. /e nodded and his ga6e drifted off towards the door. The old man now spoke with the soft tone that often accompanies reminiscence. # t the age of eleven I decided I wanted to become a priest, and so my father sent me to a seminary the following year. nd I became one. In fact, I was the minister of the village before Father Otto.& he said, and his old frame shuffled to face me. I continued to stand silently. #$ister, I do not write to offend !od. I weave stories. %y fables do not hold truth,& he said. #+ut neither does...& I interrupted, #/err Faulk, you are not to spread any more of your imagination. If you so wish, write about the truth. $peak about the goodness of our $avior, else !od will see you punished.& I retreated swiftly and clambered onto wagon. I grabbed a tight hold of the reins and pulled with all my might on the horse"s bit. I repeated a prayer. The fool, I thought, was too old to see faith in the one true !od might save him from his coming damnation. s 'eiss staggered out of the driveway I looked backwards and saw the old man who wrote stories about pretend fairies, fiery serpents, knights, and other falsehoods standing at the door, with the heavy +ible still clasped in his hands. I thought about the singing birds, the sun, the dew on the grass, and the !reat 3hain of +eing. I would tell Father Otto and he would be proud. %y duty was done and tomorrow I could teach. Tonight, I would return home and have tea and hopefully enough time would remain to read the $cripture.