The woman’s thick and matted dreadlocks slapped against her dark-black skin as she jerked her head backwards and raised her hands high above her head. ‘And with dis truth you are free. No longer can the bonds of subservience bind you and no longer can those who seek to control your lives exert any influence.’ The preacher’s strong Jamaican accent meant certain words were shortened and, although not rare within the Catholic world, her very accent offered an exotic and vibrant feel to the sermon being delivered. ‘You are now protected by the shield of your faith in me and in God, and if anyone has not felt the touch of this truth and enlightenment, let themselves be heard now or forever hold their peace.’
The small congregation maintained a respectful silence, with eyes wide open and still focused upon the silver cross the preacher stood next to. Numbering only six, this mesmerised group would have looked insignificant in any other setting but in such a small church, containing a couple of benches, the assembly seemed fitting. For this place of worship was nothing short of a hole in the wall and in the city of Rome, where basilicas – each with a rich history – reigned supreme, it was not exactly a focus for pilgrimage or tourism. The most impressive thing about the tiny church in fact was the beautiful stained-glass window behind the altar, stretching up to the ceiling, and it appeared to radiate a light from within it attesting to the fine craftsmanship of centuries before and now lighting up the preacher in a dazzling glow as she waited for a response, with her arms still raised.
A few seconds passed without any interruption, so the woman lowered her hands and a proud smile began to form across her bright pink lipstick-covered mouth. ‘It is good to see dat your faith in me is unwavering, and is a reward dat shall be reaped back upon you tenfold for you are now my hands, my fingers and must know I will always be your body, your base, your strength.’
The shrilling of a mobile phone now began to echo around the sanctuary, and the preacher turned and scowled at the item responsible which lay on a simple wooden chair standing next to the altar. ‘My apologies,’ she said with an embarrassed chuckle. ‘Even I myself am not without my failings.’
The congregation however, appeared unconcerned by this interruption and remained silent as the preacher strode over to the device and picked it up. ‘One moment, please,’ she addressed her flock, then tapped the green accept button and placed the phone to her ear. ‘Yes?’
‘Hope I’m not disturbing you?’ a man with a heavy Italian accent began politely.
‘I was in the middle of something.’ She replied, glancing back at her audience who remained patient and motionless despite the interruption. ‘But for you I always have time.’
‘Good,’ the voice replied in a more resolute tone, ‘because I require your services, and time is of the essence. Are you still in Rome?’
‘Dat I am,’ she replied in barely more than a whisper, not wanting to be overheard. ‘I was just finishing up with some recent converts to the flock, but this session will be ending shortly.’
‘Ahh,’ the man commented gleefully, ‘there is no stronger zeal than that of a convert. I shall therefore await your call.’
The line went dead and the ping indicating a text message had her checking it. Then she reached underneath her white garb and slipped the phone into a trouser pocket. ‘I’m afraid we have to cut today’s service short,’ she announced apologetically, making her way over the front pew and the man seated closest to her, ‘but know I will be with you wherever you go.’ She now patted his shoulder firmly, causing the attendee’s head to slump to one side. His inflamed eyes continued to stare blankly ahead as blood trickled into them from where his eyelids had been sliced away. ‘Always.’
She turned her attention now to the rest of the congregation, who also remained motionless, and gazed upon each of their bloody faces and then down to the severed eyelids that had been deposited in each of their laps.
‘I appreciate a captive audience,’ she declared and began pulling off the white priest’s garb and over her head. She then wrapped it up neatly before dropping it on the lifeless body of a man laid out flat on the pew behind. ‘Thank you for the loan, Father, but I have no more need this.’
With a clicking sound from one the side of her mouth, the strange woman made her way to the chapel’s entrance as the dead priest continued staring towards the ceiling, his eyes as wide as the others and his severed eyelids placed like medals across his top pocket.
‘So, it begins,’ She announced loudly, then unlocked the door and calmly made her way out into the bustling streets of Rome.