THE CHRONICLES OF ST. MARY
An Extract
Ch.27, Volume III - Rodent Reed and The Alpine Giant
Rodent Reed scurried along the carpeted hallway, half blind with panic and trepidation. He didn't know what he feared most, to reach his destination quickly and face the Beast, or to reach it late and face its wrath. As it was, he found himself staring up at the great door quicker than seemed possible, and it took him a moment to recollect that there could be no escape. Not for him. He reached out a paw and scratched at the woodwork timidly, as if hoping to be unheard.
"Enter," boomed the terrible voice of the Alpine Giant. Rodent reached above his head and pulled down on the wrought golden handle.
The room was large, and seemed larger still in contrast with the miniature furnitures left behind by its previous occupant. There was a tiny oak desk, a half-size silver potty, a hat-stand no taller than a horse's cock. By far the largest thing in the office was the Alpine Giant herself.
She was stood by the bay windows, her giant frame blocking almost all of the the natural light. She wore a crimson coat fashioned from the cloth of three curtains, and a neck scarf designed for a horse. Her hair was the colour of piss. Rodent peered up at her great and terrible face and longed to be elsewhere, to be anywhere but here, but he was rooted to the ground like a small shrubbery in the path of an oncoming tornado.
"Reed," said the Giant, and silver spoons rattled in their display cases. "Is it done? Are they all gone?"
Rodent Reed swallowed quickly and pulled at his collar. "It- it is almost done," he stammered.
"Almost?"
"They're mostly gone."
"They must all be gone!" boomed the Alpine Giant, and Rodent felt a warm trickle of urine snake down his trouser leg, dampening his sock.
"B-but mistress! It's difficult! People are noticing, the disappearances are marked and I am run dry of excuses!"
"Tell them that they have run away, that they wanted to leave. That they went of their own accord."
"I have been, but the p-people, they don't believe me!"
"What people? Give me their names, they must be agents of the Imp."
"The Imp?" said Reed.
"Do not play dumb, Rodent Reed! The Lord of Dwarves, the Sultan of Spoons, the Count of Cuban Heels! His minions are everywhere."
Rodent grimaced, he knew that he could not name people to the Giant. To do so would be to seal their certain death. He cleared his throat, "Smirking Saint, Window Cleaner, Old Nick, Batman, Fitzhugh Fella, Hypochondriac..."
He went on for some twenty minutes, until his throat was hoarse and dry and he could talk no more.
"You know what you must do, Rodent," said the Giant. "All of these souls must be removed, they must be drawn from St. Mary's like poison sucked from a hornets cock. It is you that must do this, Rodent Reed. Remove his players, remove his spies, and we shall be free of the Imp, at last."
Rodent Reed looked again into the terrible face of the Giant and he felt in his weak heart a flicker of obstinance. He had been tormented for months by a particular night terror and he knew now that it was more than that, that it was a premonition of his impending doom. Every soul that was sent from St. Mary's drew the grimmest of futures closer. There would be a time, and it approached with increasing rapidity, when the only two souls left at St Mary's would be himself and the Alpine Giant, and that when that time came he would be forced, he would be obliged, he would be irrevocably contracted, to marry It.
He longed to say something, but the flicker of bravery was gone as quickly as it came. "Yes, Mistress," he said meekly, but even as he spoke the terror in his heart fermented. If he hadn't of already pissed himself, he would have pissed himself.
