Small flash fics dedicated to the characters and relationships of the Midnight Mass miniseries, written with the help of the special words of Writober 2021 ♥
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
(Riley Flynn - Father Paul Hill) •••
Riley Flynn survives, but no longer lives. It is like a snake that has lost its skin but has not changed it. He stood still, motionless, static in front of that wrecked car and the person - the human being, whom he killed. Yes, he's stuck in that timeline, and the only thing he's been good at since getting out of jail is thinking. It is the most destructive and frustrating thing I can do, perhaps it is almost a punishment - as if four years locked in a cell were not enough - and thoughts, every night, turn into nightmares.
Before being able to fall asleep he sees her, that girl, or what remains of her and, staring at her with the hope that sooner or later she will vanish and leave him without sin, eventually falls asleep.
Not even there, however, taking refuge in his dreams, does Riley find serenity. There is only loneliness and fear, when he finds himself on that wooden boat in the middle of the sea and the only thing that surrounds him is the darkness just pierced by the light of the moon. His legs are bent and tight to his chest - he awaits the dawn, but it never comes.
It is still, immobile, it looks at the horizon and nothing changes. It is his life; static, empty, sad and drowning in a sea of guilt. And of loneliness.
It's his recurring nightmare and it's worse than dreaming about monsters, like when he was a child. It is worse than dreaming of anything else.
Loneliness is worse than death, and Riley is now so empty that he doesn't want to fill it and face it.
He looks up, in his recurring nightmare, and there is no more emptiness in front of him.
There is Father Paul who, silently, looks at him. He has the same gold cassock he saw him wear the first time they met, that Sunday at church when he returned to Crockett Island. His black hair pulled back, cared for in an almost absent-minded way and his dark eyes fixed on hims.
In the midst of the grayness of that empty ocean, with that golden robe, Father Paul seems almost the light of hope. They started those meetings a couple of weeks ago - those of alcoholics anonymous - and, although there are differences of faith between them, Riley can't deny that, in some way, the man is helping him. He has no hope that everything will return as before but, perhaps, talking to him has ignited something inside him. Sometimes anger, sometimes sadness, even a little lightness, when the genuine initiative of that priest hit him and even made him smile.
«In him was life and life was the light of men.» Father Paul has the same light, reassuring voice that Riley remembers. This is the first time anyone has spoken in their nightmares.
