I, certainly, showed no sign, for too painfully beautiful was this young girl. And thus we, well, accepted her into our monastery by my advice to the prior. And that advice did give I with an ulterior motive, indeed – gradually, from the very first day have I started to cajole her, attaching to the sanctity of our church. And both a prayer aloud did I read to her, flaunting, and candles for her on the first floor in the evening did I lit for a bigger romanticism, and tried both this and that approach, and still I wasn’t favored. Have been longing she during days and evenings in that home of ours, grieving of something personal and far, unknown to me, and by all signs was it obvious that this place was weighting her, and haven’t she found here something she has been looking for, and might she leave us forever soon enough. And from desire my unfulfilled performed I the act desperate – into her private cell during the nighttime I rushed, her door with my keys having unlocked, and threw her on the bed, and jumped on her, being consumed by my burning desire. Wanted she to shout and call for help at first moments, but skillfully did I make her mouth shut with my hand, while deed of mine quickly performing. And didn’t that maiden manage to made even a single peek, and ceased to resist soon enough totally. And, leaving, threatened I her that would we separate her from the sacred church of ours if she decides to tell anyone of what has just taken place here, and will we scold her publicly as the one who have turned away from the God, and so greatly will we abuse and scold her, that even her parents who are resting in peace in the other world, to us unknown, will be frightened. Reconciled this maiden and nothing did she say in reply to these threats of mine – only on the following day have we found her hung up on a linen rope in the cell. Surely, silent like a death was I and told nothing, and even if I did – would commoners twist fingers only and grin, having not believed in that. Sort of sacred have we become in the eyes of these fools, innocent. Well, and this is probably for the best. Oh, and you should know as well that the prior of our temple was soon dismissed from the service for that awfully accident, due to his oversight which has occurred, so as his second hand soon I have occupied his place and have taken all his privileges … quite skillfully, right? Ways are inscrutable, or so they say.
So, I have known neither a grief, nor cares, nor need since these days. Recently I have even though up an ingenious plan – to start producing temples inflatable, rubber. So that a procession can come into a new place to all these unholy non-Christian laymen, inflate that temple here on the spot quickly and effortlessly for a week, and then christen them all, and pray for forgiveness of their sins, and read the burial service for all, and bless all and damn everyone out there. Oh, faith our inflatable, to what ideas can a cunning human mind once come! And for that idea mentioned, should I note, by the higher church ranks I have been granted holy permission to wash cars of parishioners with a holy water for symbolic dues. Recently I even learned the art of banishing demons from these very gold-bringing parishioners, and such a simple procedure it appeared to be in practice : at first declare you someone terribly afflicted and a spawn of the devil, no less, and everyone jump then away from him in a fear and start christening, and fearing him like as if he is infected with pestilence, so that he even cannot say something in his defense, - and after that you start performing all sorts of “exorcism” rituals upon him, improvising until you get bored … both a honor and authority to your temple and a feeling of relief to the under-possessed! So that business of mine now grows and spreads, not by days, but by parishioners, as they say. Recently, for example, we have forbidden our poor sheep to bring candles along with them, no figs given! Let they buy our ones from a local factory three times more the cost, if they dare to pretend oh-so-believing. Faugh, contemptible ones!
Only one thing truly disturbs me at times, my dear laymen. Something burns down inside my breast somewhere from time to time, and hurts, and aches. And so vile it becomes inside my soul, that I am almost ready to howl on a moon from that intolerable grief! Or dreams come to me of nature demonic, dreadful, so that I cannot sleep at all. But then is passes, thanks the God! It must be conscience, they say, yet do not believe I in the presence of it much, for what for must a man possess it while there are so many temptations lying around? Is that really a voice of our soul, given to us by the God? It only disturbs me, silly one!
Poof, I guess I have become too frank to you, and have told you more that I should already. Have exposed my innards before you, so to say. And, because I have made it, I should now burn this note to ashes as soon as I calm down. For what is the reason for you to keep believing in us and us only and to read similar confessions, aye? Definitely to the detriment of your belief in our self-chosen hierarchy would that be! So will I burn it all tomorrow, burn it I will, and dispel the ashes on the wind without hesitation. And once again will I be pure like a newborn baby, and almost holy will I be!
… Oh, but why does the conscience keeps burning inside me so that I cannot sleep?
Real trifle
Your life is just a real trifle, right? But whether it’s your fault? Don’t worry, certainly, no. You were already born as such, brought up by your parents as such, educated and forged by a society as such, and you find it fun to remain as such yourself. You bear no responsibility for anything in your life, for responsibility is such a real trifle! You have no idea, actually, why it’s, your life, which has developed as so, and in no way differently. Probably, such was the will of casual circumstances unknown to you, and will of yours is such a trifle in comparison with ones of them. And who are you to become the master of own fate, already written in advance by someone?
From the very birth you have felt yourself born for great causes. It’s all the rest - pity humans! - have been doomed by their destinies to bear their cross of petty affairs, dreams and ambitions year after a year, while you have been made for something great, something grandiose, unforgettable, unrepeatable, almost eternal … something which is not a trifle. How strange is that that life hasn’t given you even a single chance to show others this greatness of yours - but appeared to be some sort of a pitiful beggar, constantly asking for a handout directly before your very eyes … How petty it’s from her part!
From time to time you managed to do that. Sometimes you felt with your very bones that you have finally made something important, kind, light, necessary - have helped somebody and made this world a bit kinder and warmer. But on the other hand, all these deeds of yours - they are such a true trifle compared to what you could potentially achieve. But - what a strange thing! - your life has developed exclusively on trifles. Or whether it was you demanding everything at once?
From time to time you came off second-best. Deceived and was deceived, beat and was bitten by stones, loved and hated simultaneously. Indeed, you felt how petty and insignificant are lots of your true motives, your promptings and aspirations … but whether had you no right for them? Besides, you still always have the time to rectify own errors … a trifle, surely, but such a pleasant one.
How petty others concerned you from time to time! And why, really, couldn’t they be more magnanimous, loving and understanding in relation to you? Why did they performed ridiculous things, spoke nonsenses, and tried to deduce you from your ideal self-image periodically? Whether did you grant them the right to behave as such with you? However, life already has had the time to make a strikeback to some based on their affairs … a trifle, truly, yet such a pleasant one.
If you had only known how to transform this world and make it kinder in relation to itself and to you in a single step! But one is always born as a genius, and never becomes him, right? And petty life has unfairly deprived you of the possibility to demonstrate own genius, hasn’t granted a slightest chance to spread own semi-burned wings and soar into the highest heights … And you was almost ready to conquer Olympus inside, yes? And here and now you along with your internal frenzy and external impenetrable blissful smile keep shifting day by day papers from one folder into the next, and from one table over another, calling this nonsense your job instead. You are such a big chief for now - indescribably greater than all these unworthy ones, fawning before you, who didn’t manage to climb up that fake Olympus on which you have been sitting for a lot of years of own life already … a trifle, true and true, but such a pleasant one indeed!
To tell the truth, you have already started forgetting of these pink dreams of own childhood and of brave aspirations of own youth - they, probably, were too unearthly as well … too non trifle? But, heck, what’s the reason to think of that for now? You have your official wife in possession, own house and a countryside cottage in addition to a solid bank account … you have your new life. The fear of death overcomes you at times, but you promptly drive these petty and itching thoughts away. You, certainly, would want to live forever, but is still compelled to use all
