This story contains religious views, sex, the Devil, and mild watersports (He's into that sort of thing).
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With the arrival of autumn came cooler temperatures, much to the relief of the parishioners of Little Castleton church. The old frame church sweltered in the summer months and was bone-chillingly cold during the winter. The sweet months of autumn brought refuge from the extreme temperatures and such pleasantness would be seen again until spring.
Father David preached a comfortable if not rousing sermon, extolling the virtues of Christian life without threatening those that unintentionally strayed off the path. He was fond of saying that God didn't expect perfection but perseverance. Having grown up in Little Castleton, his views fit quite well with the often-straying congregation. During the week many walked alongside that path of piety or at least kept it in view. On Sunday's they dutifully packed the church to find forgiveness so that the next week they could repeat the journey all over again.
At the end of the service, the affable priest stood at the doorway, smiling and blessing each of his flock as they left. He enjoyed the closeness he felt with them, his smile not wavering until Megan Cornish appeared. She side-stepped his friendly handshake and instead took up a presumptuous position next to him.
"I think we have much to talk about Father. I have expressed my concern before, but I must reiterate how strongly I feel about the soft way you deal with our congregation. These people are straying sheep and it is your duty to corral them with a firm hand, not whistle and hope they follow," she said arrogantly, neither keeping her voice low nor carrying who else heard.
Father David did not respond. He instead continued blessing the remaining parishioners, his eyes and theirs sharing sympathetic glances of silent commiseration. Still, the priests apparent disregard for her words did not deter the woman. She stood her ground, silent with pursed lips as she waited for the final few parishioners to exit the church.
"Father, as I've already said, I think you are making a grave mistake," she said immediately after the priest had finished.
Father David took a deep breath and said a silent prayer for patience before turning to face the most serious member of his flock.
"Megan...," he started.
"Father please don't forget yourself," she quickly interrupted.
"Pardon me...Miss Cornish. I assure you that my method of leadership is well within the teachings of the Church. After all, Christ himself was not a strict taskmaster but a gentle shepherd. I believe our fellow villagers are doing just fine in the eyes of the lord. Of course, if it's good for the all-father then it is good for me as well. Now if you will excuse me Miss Cornish, I have other matters to attend to," the priest said before turning away, his patience almost at its end.
Father David quickly hurried down an aisle and disappeared into a back room while ignoring the woman's continued calls for a discussion, closing the door to the back office with enough force to punctuate that he was done talking. He genuinely enjoyed his vocation and especially preaching in his home village, but ever since he returned to the area to take over the parish some three years prior, the young Miss Cornish had been a thorn in his side.
The priest poured himself a small measure of brandy from a bottle he kept on a service behind his desk and took a seat to nurse the drink. He unfortunately understood Megan Cornish all too well. She taught at the village school and with no family left, lived alone. She was modestly attractive but single, having placed all her time and energy into her vocation and her worship. He had tried to encourage her to explore relationships, but the truth was that she felt uncomfortable around men. Religion was both her shield and sword which she exercised with the ferocity that rivaled Joan of Arc.
Father David could counsel, cajole and if needed command the rest of his flock, but Megan Cornish's armor of self-righteous piety protected her from all attempted help. He took a steadying sip of the brandy before sighing and closing his eyes. What was he to do to help this frightened sheep break free from her self-imposed pen and enjoy the green pasture of life the lord had provided?
Down the lane from the church where the troubled priest wrestled with his problems, Megan Cornish walked, her shoulders squared as if fighting the very air. The cool fall air nipped at her legs reminding her of the short hemline of her new dress. It rested well below her knees, but she had already decided to let it down further. It was already longer than those worn by other women in the village, but she hoped to lead by example.
A few clouds floated by in the sunny late morning sky and multi-colored leaves swirled around the ground and through the air. Megan wrinkled her nose as she passed a display of carved pumpkins and almost screamed at the mannequin of a witch riding a broom, prominently displayed on the Halloween bedecked pub. She hated Halloween, a holiday in which the ignorant and blasphemous celebrated wickedness. She shook her head, honestly shamed that people celebrated and dressed up like witches instead of burning them as they did in the old days.
Megan wanted to escape to the safety of her home, but she was hungry and knew she still needed to purchase groceries before doing so. She put aside her disgust as she entered a café, seating herself at the most remote table she could find, one far from the window and it's view of the horrific decorations of the village outside.
"Hello Megan, what can I get you today?" asked Beatrice, the owner of the café as she approached the table.
"I'll take the salad with chicken and a cup of tea, thank you," replied Megan.
Beatrice smiled and turned to leave, but her smile turned to a frown as Megan continued.
"You know Beatrice, and this is just a friendly concern, but I noticed that your boy Liam wasn't at church this morning. Of course, what you and Michael choose to do with your lives are up to you, but you should at least make the boy take his place in God's house," she said haughtily.
Beatrice held her tongue and instead of retorting headed back to the kitchen to place the order. It wouldn't help for her to scream at a customer and she decided it best to let the conversation drop. She returned with a pot of tea and then hurried off before Megan could restart the conversation.
Megan scoffed at the proprietress and turned her attention to a couple sitting at one of the tables in the window. She had seen them around the village and knew that neither were members of the church. They were openly holding hands across the table and giggling, obviously unconcerned about proper public behavior. She felt compelled to say something and was just about to speak when she noticed the man sitting at another one of the tables.
The man was well dressed in a fashionable suit with a handsome face, but Megan felt him somehow repulsive at the same time. His olive dark skin seemed to absorb the light around him, creating a darkness that wasn't seen as much as it was felt. Megan tried to pull her gaze away but continued scrutinizing his every detail with slowly building fascination and dread.
Beatrice came to take the man's order and although the café was calmly silent his voice carried no further than table in which he sat. When Beatrice stepped away, the enigmatic man turned his gaze to Megan is if he knew she had been watching, their eyes locking together and an irrational feeling of fear flooding through her body. Megan shivered as if she had just leaped into icy water and her lips trembled as she fumbled through a quiet prayer.
