Conversations with the Light Bearer (Religious Satire)

CHAPTER XIX - The All-Father

CHAPTER XIX

THE ALL-FATHER

After a merry meal with friends old and new, everyone said their thanks and goodbyes, setting out to accomplish their individual tasks at hand. Romulus the Nephilim left to inform all the other half-breeds and so called demi-gods of the capture of the Son of God by the Son of the Devil, beaconing the prophesied Final War coming no shorter than a few moons left, or so one of Samyaza's brood tells him. On the other hand, the succubus, Lilith, was given orders to share the same knowledge with the exiles, the unwanted, and the rest of the accursed, for them to prepare for the worst and protect all those they hold dear. Lastly, Samyaza the Great Grigori once worshipped as Zeus of the Greeks, promised his best to convince our neutral brethren, the Fallen who chose no sides, to use all their strength and influence to prevent the Armageddon, or at the very least, to remain neutral as they were to avoid further blood spilled.

As for the human, Father Henry Lim was requested by the Grigori to inform the Vatican of the impending crisis. In response, the priest merely laughed at him. Henry argued that since the mortals have such a fascination with the end of the world, with the sham of both the Christian prediction of 2000 and the recent Mayan apocalypse of 2012, he mocks that nobody will believe him anymore. The Grigori then mocked him in return, saying that, "All you need to say is that God had told you, and the people will believe anything."

I couldn't have agreed more.

But before he planned to set for port, one more request had to be fulfilled, one that necessitated the most paramount concern of them all—the rescue of the Son of God by the Devil himself.

****

With only Father Henry left, another guest soon arrived, a creature I had long assumed to be no longer among the living, or at least figuratively. A squat man in his eighties, Bishop Rusty the All-Father lurched forward, scrawny to the bone. Long white hair flanked his bald top, a single gold tooth showing with every smile. And just like the priest, the bishop wore a black suit and a white collar, a walking stick on hand to support his ever receding back. He came in slow, and possibly aching. "Looks like you've grown a belly, eh, Luci?" Rusty said, poking Henry's engorged stomach with his stick. "Never saw you for throwing the towel, though."

Father Henry pushed the cane aside. "I'm not him, you old dog."

"Over here, All-Father!" I raised an arm, waving at him.

"Hm?" Rusty turned to me, then back to Henry. "Are you sure you're not him?"

Henry rolled his eyes and closed the door. Meanwhile, Rusty walked for what seemed to be an eternity towards the bed. He took a seat beside me, dumping his cane on the covers. He leaned closer. "You look . . . different, old chap."

"Of course, it's me," I said firmly.

"Hm?" The All-Father kept shaking his head, raising his spectacles to get a better look. The vision from his left eye was taken long ago, showing all misty and gray. For all I knew, it could have been a prosthetic. "Oh . . . Yes. It is you."

"It is me," I answered. "So how fares the All-Father? You seem rather . . . spritely for your age," I jested with a smile. "Or perhaps I should call you Raphael?"

The bishop smiled back with his golden tooth. "Spritely my arse. Could barely climb the stairs these days." He coughed, wheezing. "And Rusty will do. I'm no more angel than you are."

"So Bishop Rusty, eh?" I chuckled. "Never saw you for a holy man."

The All-Father scratched his equally white beard. "Well, being in the clergy has its perks, too. People still listen to me, you know? Gives me a sense of purpose, even if they're only forced to do so. These days, it's either this or the educational route, you know what I mean?"