Doubting Authority

“Bring them to me - every one of them.”

“At this hour my Holiness?”

“Yes.”

“All of them?”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps if we were to escort you to the chambers where they are being held? In the morning?” here the priest hesitated - for the old Pope’s tone did not seem forgiving. He dug his nails into the knob of his walking cane, as he steadied himself.

He then rattled down the corridors noisily knocking on doors to the cells of his fellow priests - it was past midnight and they were all locked in for the night.

Father Penelope was up and at his side.

“He has gone crazy. The collection of this unholy zoo was one matter, but this gathering is quite bizarre to say the least.

“What if we simply do not comply? Is there anyone we can appeal to? Monsignor has left all bounds of reason and is beyond our call.”

Father Pious said nothing to answer this, he already felt the sting of unwanted doubt.

There was no higher authority, and they were caught by the very fractures within the Church itself: that, of an icy heart.

‘This is what you get with Divine authority” he said resolutely.

“Divinity does not have to make sense - never has, never will.”

Penelope did not believe this. He had always hoped for a modern world of betterment and rationality. Yet he kept quiet, again.


-Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances