*      *      *

Oh no! thought Father Francis.   As a good Catholic and law-abiding citizen, he had always been torn between his two loyalties — to country and church — over the theoretical question of whether or not a priest should break the trust of the confessional, if the sin involved were murder, rape, or some other major crime.   But for forty years as a priest, until now, he had never had to face the reality of the dilemma.

Then Benjamin Charlton began to tell of Aunt Aggie’s involvement in witchcraft, and how she had conjured herself back to life to avenge herself, and the priest thought, My God, a killer and a raving lunatic!   Although his faith taught him to believe in miracles, father Francis could not bring himself to believe in demonic magic in the 1990s.

“Please, my son…” began Fr. Francis, hoping to stop the lunatic’s ravings.

*      *      *

Realising the priest was trying to shut him up, Benjamin hurried on with his tale, quickly taking it up to the point where he had entered the confessional.

His tale related, Benjamin waited for some word of absolution, or at the very least incredulity from the priest.   Instead he was greeted with only silence.   He tried to recall how quickly the priests had granted absolution in his teens, but realised his childhood “sins” had been trivial compared to what he had confessed today.   Perhaps-he has to think up a suitable penance? thought Benjamin.   How about one billion Hail Marys? he joked, vainly trying to make light of his own situation.

Hearing a strange chewing sound in the priests’ box, he leant forward in a bid to peer through the thin screen and thought, A gum-chewing priest?   But the noise sounded more like a dog chewing a bone.

“Father?” he asked.   “Are you still there?”

He touched the screen with his hands and immediately pulled away again in revulsion as his fingers encountered a sticky substance.   Although the light was dim in the booth, by holding his fingers up close to his eyes, he could just see that it was blood which coated his fingers!

“Father, are you all right?” called out Benjamin.   He thought, My God, I hope that by telling him about that old bitch I didn’t cause him to have a heart-attack or a brain haemorrhage or something?

Running out of the booth, wincing as his bad ankle almost gave way under him, Benjamin pulled wide the curtain of the priests’ box.

He stared into the booth and saw Aunt Aggie sitting on the floor near the mangled corpse of Fr. Francis.   Blood, bones, and entrails were strewn around the booth, coating the walls and Aunt Aggie alike.

In her hands Aunt Aggie held a long thigh bone, which she was gnawing upon eagerly, reminding Benjamin of the words of the book of spells, “Her ghoul will be invisible to all but her intended victim!”

Seeing her nephew she stopped gnawing the bone and started to drag herself toward him cooing, “Benjamin!   Oh Benjamin!” as she crawled.

Terrified, he turned to flee from the booth, but found he was unable to move, his feet felt leaden, as though weighed down by an invisible force.

“Benjamin!   Oh Benjamin!” cooed Aunt Aggie in a soft voice.   Benjamin Charlton was terrified to find himself actually walking forward toward her.

Unable to stop himself, Benjamin bent over toward the ghoul as she raised the thigh bone above her head.   Expecting her to use the thigh bone as a club to bash in his brains, Benjamin began to whimper from terror.

Instead she handed the bone to him, still crooning, “Benjamin!   Oh Benjamin!” her dead eyes holding him fixed in her gaze.

Unable to resist her command, Benjamin sat down upon the floor beside Aunt Aggie and the dead priest and began to gnaw upon the thigh bone, eagerly crunching and swallowing large chunks of bone.

THE END