Priest meets thief
A man, pale and shifty eyed, crept down an alley between two shops. He followed the bending path to where it conjoined with the main street which was full of the bustling energy of any market day. Parents reached out after their children who had run ahead, customers haggled until they went red and people talked amongst each other absorbed in the most recent gossip. Sensing his chance, the man threw himself into the flow of market goers and met their pace. All had gone as planned but now he faced a time limit. Not wanting to pull the hood of his jacket down, he had to act fast before his dubious appearance inevitably caught the attention of any guards. He ignored the stall holder calling out to him and looked ahead to the elderly man haggling with a crowd. With a deft movement he grabbed a piece of bread and snuck it into his pocket. He repeated this trick until he felt his pockets were becoming too heavy and was eyeing a dank, narrow alley he could slink into but then he spotted a valuable looking amulet left unguarded and images of him riding a horse out of Wendron, bag of cash in hand played in his mind. He reached out to grab it but was bumped into by a staggering drunkard who stared at the amulet in his hand. The drunk pointed directly at him and shouted;
“THIEF”.
At those words, the whole crowd stopped in place and turned their gazes towards the man who sat bewildered. He crawled back until his back hit a wall as every pair of eyes aimed at him pierced his psyche. After ten agonising seconds, everyone began fleeing indoors without speaking a word. Bar the creaking of the doors opening and closing, there was not a sound. Even the previously hyperactive kids went inside noiselessly without any need for instruction. Staring out at an empty street, the man tried to run but the echoing sounds of footsteps interrupted him. Coming from the alley he was about to enter came an elderly priest with long black robes. The priest’s eyes bore a hole through the man as he spoke.“You’ve stolen from these very stalls for eight years now, do you have any words to defend yourself?”.
The man’s knees gave way as these words cut into him.“H-how do you know?”
“Your eyes.”
Bewildered, the man tried to run and made it half way through the alleybefore his leg got caught on something. He tugged and tugged but his leg was stuck in place but upon looking down he realised that his leg was being heldin place by a clawed hand black as coal.
He reached for the hand but as he did, the arm, then head, then torso, of a horned beast phased through theground and peered down at the man with crimson eyes. The man tripped and clawed at the ground until his grappling left trails of blood. The priest then stood next to the beast and spoke.
“Take this sinner.”
At this the man felt a harsh tug as he was dragged away from the world he knew.
Rev Robert Jago was the vicar of Wendron 1641-1685. He had a formidable reputation: he could conjour spirits which acted as his servants, and calm the restless dead and return them to their graves - he was a ghost layer. His parishioners believed he could see when they were doing wrong.