City of IF

[D-Lotus]

Dedications: to Valencia F.C and to my cross-country team which just ended the season. Wish me luck in soccer tryouts.

Storygame process: Read the story, and then based on the character's personality, suggest what he/she should do. When all suggestions have been given, the author (me) will post a poll. You must vote for your favorite option on the poll, and based on that decision, the author will write the next chapter as it affects the story.




Chapter 4 A


An idea suddenly surprised Devine as he sat in the shadows, and it soon took hold of him until he had become convinced by it. He held his breath before speaking.

“Mick, I will talk to her. But not about abortion- that would be murder. I’ll talk to her about your decision.”

“Thank you, Father. I knew you’d understand.” said Mick, relieved.

“I will say, Mick, your decision to become religiously involved and leave your family did shock me. I never knew that you had that pent up desire burning inside you.” said Devine, smiling to himself.

“Huh?” managed Mick.

“Come around, Mick. I have an idea that might be able to help you.”

Mick scratched his head inquisitively before opening the door and going around to where Devine was already waiting to explain his plan.
**

Mick was to initiate as a monk as part of the plan. Devine intended to have Mick rest in a monk's convent for a month or two, to give him a chance to relax and release his pent up feelings. He told Mick it was only temporarily, until he could convince his wife to let him go. Mick finally accepted reluctantly, and Devine sent him away with an explanatory letter.

Devine's real plan was to stall Mick, until his impulsiveness mellowed. He knew that the love that once had bound the couple could be rekindled. He next visited Mick's wife. She was a wild, raucous, spiteful woman who spat insulting vulgarities and then wallowed in her resentment. But Devine had to admit that she was still physically attractive for a woman of her age. Wrinkles had not yet taken possession of her face, but her weariness of life was reflected in her dark eyes, so similar yet contrasting to her daughter's lively eyes.

When Devine visited her, she could barely hide her contempt, but she kept a mask of respect. When Devine outlined his plan to help her regain her husband, he realized that she still loved him. She listened eagerly to him and with hope. He asked her to think of the baby as a representation of a new begging in the family relation. She readily promised that when Mick came home, tired of the solitary convent, she would become a good spouse. Devine also promised his assistance to keep the marriage on course. Finally, she broke into tears on Devine's lap and thanked him. He comforted her and finally left her after an hour.
**

The next day, Devine knocked reticently upon Andy McDonough’s door. He knew there was likely to be some dissatisfaction when they began talking about Andy’s younger daughter, but Devine was confident that he could convince Andy. It was important that he act reserved as he eased the conversation towards the climax. Devine prepared a hearty handshake.

Andy’s house was the biggest house in town, and he also owned the most expensive car. He had run for town mayor once, but something had detained him, and he had withdrawn, conceding the victory to his opponent. Since then, nobody had disputed Tim being mayor; to run against him would somehow seem insolent towards Andy. It was as if the town were still waiting for Andy to run again- there just didn’t seem any reason why he shouldn’t.

Andy had inherited some money from his father, but he had built his name from his own value. He’d gone to the city for three years and returned in a car with a well-dressed and refined wife. He’d said he couldn’t ever stand the city again. He made an investment and was fortunate enough to make profits from it. Everybody loved the couple when they settled, and Devine had considered himself a friend of the McDonough’s for many years.

When Andy opened the door, Devine was dismayed by his coldness. He nodded his head in Devine’s direction and stepped back into the room, leaving the door suspended. Devine stood outside dubitatively, waiting for Andy to come back and clap him on the back amicably.

“It’s Father Devine.” he said, announcing Devine’s entrance to everybody in the room. Devine stepped inside uneasily and closed the door behind him. He tried to smile as Andy unsympathetically offered him a drink. Devine refused politely and looked around the room.

Andy’s wife Alice, his two daughters, step-son, and Mick’s daughter sat around the firelight holding drinks. Thankfully, Andy’s daughter was still dressed in her nun’s habit. Mick’s daughter, Jeanne, had been absorbed into the McDonough’s by Andy. They treated her as part of the family, and felt deep empathy for her situation- caught between two battling parents. Andy was searching for a place she could work in, but Jeanne wouldn’t hear of abandoning her parents.

“Andy,” said Devine, once he had greeted everyone, “I can’t explain how grateful I am. Your donation is very much appreciated by us.”

Everybody watched curiously as Andy waved the recognition away.

“Dear, I never knew you made a donation to the Fathers. You should have told me.” said Alice, surprised. Andy merely grunted and swallowed his shot. “But please, Father,” said Alice noticing Devine’s unease, “Sit down.”

Devine felt strange as he sat among them. He couldn’t understand Andy’s distantness and could only attribute it to one thing- he was displeased with Devine for interfering in his daughter’s life.

The conversation topic veered for over an hour while Andy kept silent, drinking. Inadvertently, the conversation metamorphosed into a discussion about the wedding plans between Conolly and Clarke. Devine admitted the marriage was to be held in a week’s time. Finally, Jeanne excused herself to prepare dinner for her father, and Andy’s married daughter left with her husband. Sensing Devine’s glances towards Andy, Alice beckoned her daughter into the kitchen, leaving the two men alone in the family room. Two men’s business was men’s business.

Although Devine had been a friend of the McDonoughs as far as a priest can be a friend, he had never become familiar with Andy’s daughters. When he had visited in his younger days, the girls were only infants. Then, a period of work had bound Devine at the church. Andy and Alice had always visited him there, until he was transferred to another town by the bishop. One of Andy’s daughters had already been initiated in a convent by the time he returned, and the other would soon after marry. And so, in his old age, and with the numerous families he maintained friendship with, he had forgotten the young girl’s name. Devine felt uncomfortable that he had had to obtain her name (Abigail) from Turner, and also because, since the six years of his return to town, his ties with Andy hadn’t been as strong as the previous.

Therefore, when Devine spoke, he lacked his usual confidence.

“Andy,” he said, “Has…has Abigail spoken to you of her decision to leave the convent?”

Andy’s face had begun to be clouded with drink, and he suddenly looked at Devine strangely. He was sitting by the fire, and the firelight licked and crackled on one side of his face, giving him a ghastly appearance. Andy was a powerful man, and his scowl was intimidating even to Devine.

“Abigail is leaving the convent?” he said, controlling his anger and reclining on his chair, although his hand stayed strongly clutched around his drink. Obviously, he had not been communicated anything. He turned his head away from the fire, as if hiding in the darkness, but the electrical glow of the light bulbs met his face.

“Well, yes.” Devine said nervously, hoping to pacify Andy. “I advised her it was her own choice.”

Andy laughed scornfully. The alcohol was making its effect on him.

“Her own choice? When are we ever given a choice?” he said resentfully.

“God gives us such choice. A religious man myself, I was inclined to convince her not to abandon, but I felt that perhaps God has another calling for her. As you know, it is never late to return to God, and if that is what she was truly meant to do, then one day she will retrace her steps.”

“It is too late after you marry.” he said, tones of sourness almost tangible to Devine.

“If God wills it, it shall happen.”

“I have had enough.” said Andy abruptly, his face obfuscating in deep red. “Does God also give you the right to meddle and perturb my household? I have had enough with your kind.”

Devine recognized a savage anger from within Andy, and wondered at the source that could have affected him. To argue with Andy now would be futile.

“Leave my house.” said Andy as calmly as he could. Devine serenely gathered himself and stood up. “Farewell.” he whispered without any trace of anger, as Andy looked at his drink. Upright, Devine walked through the family room before looking back in pity. He closed the door behind him, bequeathing humiliation inside the room. Andy felt a tear crawl down his cheeks.

Alice and Abigail heard the door and came into the room, bearing biscuits on a tray. Alice scanned the room, detecting the tangible tension inside. Before Andy could see them, they retreated back into the kitchen, as Alice exchanged a discontent glance with her daughter.
**

Father Dole strolled towards the church, holding a bible under his arm which he had been reading outside. In truth, the mid-afternoon sun and the peaceful field had caused him to doze off, and he had only awoken half an hour ago. Smiling to himself in his complacency, he reached for the church door. Before his hand met anything solid, the door swung open, and Jim Taggert almost knocked him over.

Dole furrowed his brows apprehensively. Jim smiled toothlessly and swung his wrinkled hand out, as Dole shook it reluctantly.

“ ‘ello, Father.” he said, as he stepped out of the way to make way for another man. The man wiped away some grease from his face with the back of his hand and nodded morosely towards Dole.

“Hello, Jim. Hello, Frank.” said Dole, releasing his hand from Jim’s strong grip. “What are you doing here?”

“Makin’ repairs, Father, that’s all we’re doing. Isn’t that right, Frank?” said Jim, taking off his cap. Frank nodded in assent while trying to untangle his coarse black hair.

“That’s right, that’s what they’re doing.” said Turner, suddenly emerging from the church.

“Why didn’t you warn us that the repairs would start today? Jim, you didn’t bring your dogs, did you?” said Dole, flaring and then turning pale.

Turner laughed. “No need to worry. I would have told you, but I didn’t want to disturb your rest.” Dole blushed, and Jim smiled amicably. He was going to comment about the value of a good repose, when Turner anticipated him.

“Gentlemen, I will see you tomorrow at the same time, I expect?” he said. Jim tipped his cap and wished both excellencies a good health, and then motioned for Frank to follow him off.

At that moment, Devine was making his way there. When he arrived, Father Turner informed him on the developments. Jim and Frank had begun work on the roof, which they found to be damaged after the torrential rain from a week ago. Then they would begin repairing the upper gallery that had fallen, the main project. Devine thanked him and retired to his room.

That week, the gossip revolved around Edward Conolly and Anne Clarke. Most of it wasn’t unfounded, but the two young lovers now seemed truly in love. They sensibly concealed themselves in their houses, but they were never seen without a brave, challenging smile.

The party that seemed most injured was Jack, Anne’s other aspirant. Jack was the son of the mayor, Tim. The young man seemed lacking in vigor, whereas before he had always been full of energy and impetus. His father worried for him, but like Romeo, Jack would escape to the fields to despondently chew on blades of grass. What would it that my wound were as slight as Romeo’s of Rosaline’s, he sighed.

Father Devine was too occupied with the arrangements for the wedding to be worried about this, although his role was confined to the church ceremony. He planned to attend the party after the church vows, of course. It would be considered impolite not to attend, especially after what he’d done to instigate the marriage.

Not everybody was happy, unfortunately. Edward’s father was discontent, although he could do nothing against his son’s stubborn determination. What he thought was the worst decision for his son, was torturing his mind. For years, he had tried to direct Edward in the right path, and now it seemed his brilliant future would be ruined. It pained him that his son could not achieve his potential. He tried to remain silent and respect his son’s decision, but he could not resist to scorn when he spoke of her. Edward vowed to himself to leave the town, at least temporarily, for the better of all. Perhaps he would return in victory, as Andy did.







Chapter 4 B

As the morning stealthily crept up from behind the mountainous horizon, a withered old man journeyed similarly into the unknowing town. His back was bent against the dusk, and he sagged wearily over his lean and ghostly horse. Don Quijote, with his great white beard and bony steed could barely have exemplified defeated nobility better.

The horse stopped at random in front of Andy McDonough's house, gasping for air in a upsettingly humane way. The old man, a straggle of white hair growing everywhere irregularly, attempted to unfasten himself from his steed. A dull thud announced his descent, as he lay sprawling on the floor dramatically. The door of Andy's house swung open and a pair of hands dragged the pale old man inside.

Inside of an hour, the man was sitting up in bed and drinking coffee. Andy and his family surrounded the bed curiously.

"How're you feeling now?" asked Alice, concerned about the man who had fainted at their footsteps little ago.

"Mighty and powerful!" he croaked confidently, then detected a pain in his back. "Although maybe I should evade fights with dragons for a while." he smiled. The company broke into a light grin.

"Ah, but allow me to introduce myself. My name, bestowed on me by my mother, is Phineus. I plead you to forgive me for having demanded your care so unceremoniously." His speech was flowery, and his manner was noble, but in his gaze there existed something astute.

"My own name is Andy, and it was only our duty to aid. What will the world come to when one can't feed his neighbor?" he said, touching into the great generosity which made him an admired man.

"Then, I sincerely thank you, neighbor. I can't allow myself to disturb your household any longer, I-" began Phineus, before Andy lay a enormous hand on his frail chest, almost encompassing it.

"You'll stay here until I'm sure you are recovered." Andy said, firmly willing him to stay. His wife quickly reassured the old man with a million kind words equal to Andy's powerful hand.

"Very well, if you wish me to." Phineus said, pleased to let himself be bent by the giant. "I would have expected no less from a man like you, McDonough." he smiled, and his eyes twinkled with secret knowledge. Andy was pleased, but not unused to his fame. "In exchange of your hospitality, I will reveal to you my greatest secret. I have been bestowed the gift of prophesy by the gods. I can foresee the future."

The McDonough's smiled, amused. The old man's face remained serious and solemn.

"Its true! It is my sad fate that no one will believe me, although I bear no curse as Cassandra." he sighed, much to the entertainment of the McDonough's.

Phineus had been born in England, or so he said, and had resided there during his childhood, under the watchful care of his mother, a Greek immigrant who over-protected him. She had fallen in love with a wealthy Englishman during her youth, and had followed him back to bear his child in his country, but she had been ruefully abandoned. She feared a wound like hers for her child, and withdrew him from the world, hiding him as much as she could.

As a young man, Phineus had been weak to the ways of people, and had been trampled beneath them. It was then, he said, that he had been given the gift of prophesy by the gods who felt pity on him. His wanderings had brought him here, he said, as he was cast around by fate. Whether there was any truth in his story, nobody was certain. There was wisdom intermingled in his mad spouting, however.

Somehow, the frail old man with the sparkling young eyes and proud frame struck kind with Andy. He decided to keep Phineus as a guest for some months. Phineus accepted Andy's generous offer, to Alice's consternation. It was not that she disliked the old man, but that it seemed that from the very first moment, he had some sort of control over her husband. His absurd claim of knowing the future gave him a quaint quality which rendered him harmless, but in Alice’s eyes, danger lurked.

To Devine, he was no friend. Phineus’ friendship with Andy caused Andy’s hate towards clergymen to escalate. Phineus, despite his knowledge, did not believe in the existence of one all-powerful God. He defended polytheism and mythology. He deemed Christianity as the religion of fools. People did not regard him seriously, however, because of his obsession with his own invented gods. Even so, he was a voice of dissent, and he employed strong, logical arguments to convince those that listened to him. The whole town continued to attend Mass, and in the surface, nothing seemed to change- but Phineus was causing many rumblings. Devine avoided Andy and Phineus as much as he could, fleeing from their alliance. He was reminded of Rasputin, and the ease with which he controlled the eager Russian queen.

If Devine disliked Phineus, to Father Turner he was the devil. Turner had lost his domineering hand over Andy. When he went to visit Andy to remind him of his subjugation, he met with an opposition he had not expected. Phineus had defended his student, implying Turner’s hypocrisy in every word while appearing amicable. Before Turner had even been able to ask a word in private with Andy, Phineus had already insulted his vocation with as many insinuating and criticizing jokes as could be imagined. He had buffeted Turner away, changing the priest’s cold cynicism into something laughable by patting him on the back like a shy friend.

“Father, what part of the Lord’s body do you think this one tastes like?” he had said, smiling amply as he held a glass of porter to Turner’s face. The crude joke had made its effect, and finally Turner excused himself, pretending indifference to Phineus’ attitude. In an attempt to maintain the facade, Turner had even shaken Phineus’ hand and earnestly said, “You’re a good man, Phineus, a good man.” To which Phineus calmly responded, “But I don't believe in God, Father.” He said it with a mild smile, but the finality of his words made Turner withdrawn his hand unsteadily. He was left with a sense of defeat to which he was unaccustomed, and he vowed revenge.

The wedding, which occurred before Phineus shamed Turner, was a success. The town converged inside the church joyfully, well-knowing of the scandal that could have been inflicted upon Anne's family. They highly valued Edward's courage, and every single townsperson knew of his father's dream of the university. Anne, wearing a deceivingly beautiful but simple white dress, descended down the aisle to the altar. Then the groom made his appearance, and a few well-intentioned whistles and claps interrupted the solemn occasion. Edward smiled as he met his fiancée at the altar, and held her hand tightly. Every woman in the church couldn't help a tear slide down her cheek, and many wiped it away quickly, while others let the tears flow freely. The men smiled at their wives fondly as the young couple at the altar said 'yes' boldly. There was no shame in their voice, only sweet love. Even Jack, the lover turned down, was there, smiling.

At the small feast after the ceremony, Devine embraced the newly-weds, and Edward thanked him for his advice. Edward's father blessed the marriage, finally letting his hurt begin to heal itself, although the scars would always remain. After virtually everyone in the town had congratulated the couple, an old coach wagon, almost obsolete, carried them away into the setting sun, the driver wildly whipping the rump of his horse.
**

Devine yawned. waiting once more in the confession box. The day had been replete of confessions, and many had been about the guilt of listening to Phineus, who had insulted the faith once more. That was how Devine knew of what he said- all of Phineus' words were brought to him indirectly through the confessional. It was his turn once more in the confession box because Father Turner had left to-somewhere- he hadn’t been clear, but he had said it was an important visit.

The door opened again, and there was a rasping cough as someone sat down.

“Father,” he said quickly and without waiting, “I am God.”

Devine laughed. “Good,” he said, “because I have a lot of questions for you.”

“No Father,” said the man, who had become annoyed by Devine’s response. “What I mean is that I think I’m God.”

“And why is that?” asked Devine, becoming serious.

“Because I play with people’s lives.” choked out the man. “I can’t help it, something takes hold of me and I feel all powerful.”

Devine suddenly frowned worriedly. He’d read of something similar in the newspaper once. “What is your profession?” he asked.

“I’m a doctor, Father. That’s the worst part, I’m a doctor. I give life and I take life. Like God. When I operate, I feel this strange power course through me, and I see my patient’s life as a string. I can keep weaving, or I can grab my scissors, like the Fates, Father.” he cried.

“Where do you work?”

“In Dublin. But I came out here because nobody knows me here, Father.”

“I see. Well, it is apparent that you have sinned, but-”

“Oh no, Father, its worse than that. It wasn’t only my imagination or anything playing tricks on me. I’m guilty, Father, I’m guilty.” he said, pain coursing through his voice as he suddenly began sobbing and clutching his hand to his face.

“Why? What have you done?” asked Devine, fearful of the man. Perhaps his case was something more than he could handle. Why had this man decided to pile the burden and pain on a simple priest like him?

“I’ve killed, I’ve murdered, Father.” he whispered sadly. His voice grew strained. “I saw the string, and I knew I could easily keep weaving. But instead, I grabbed my scissors and cut the string. I killed my patient. Nobody but me knew that I could have saved him. Shit, I could have done anything I wanted!”

Devine trembled. His voice shook.

“That is bad, son, you have erred.” Devine felt the immense pressure bear down upon him. In only a few short minutes, he felt overwhelmed by a crime that wasn’t his. The confessor always feels an intimate bond with the confessant, almost as if they share one body of secrecy. But there must always be a line or a window that separates them, something to remind each of his role.

“Father, I need punishment. I am not God, I am not God. Damn it, I’m not God!” He said, frustrated. His internal battle was too much for Devine. The priest pushed open his door and breathed in fresh air, letting some light in.

“What is it, Father?” said the man, almost afraid of betrayal. His voice sounded dangerous, ready to spring into action if anything went wrong.

“Nothing, I was only thinking about your case.” said Devine, emboldened by his gulp of fresh air that had liberated him from the confession box momentarily.

“Father, I can’t go to therapy. I’m an important man, and I can’t stay here long. I can’t let any rumors fly, either. A surgeon must have his mind focused, always. And mine is, only that...” he ended, explaining his case.

“What is it that you want me to do?” asked Devine. He was only a simple priest, and was no master of psychology.

“Punish me, Father. Or help me. If only there was a way to understand what God really is, that way I would understand if I’m not.” pleaded the man.

“How long can you stay?” asked Devine.

“A couple of days- a week if I decided to extend it.” he answered.

A week to convince a man that he is not God, thought Devine.

“Help me. Please.” the man said, unreasonably hoping Devine would have the answer.

Skip to Chapter 5

[Chinaren]

Excellent chapter D. Excellent.

The obvious choice to me is to hook up this surgeon with Phineus! A while with him would convince him of his lack of godness.

As for a punishment. Perhaps some sort of anonymous donation to the family/ies of those he has killed? A surgeon must be well off.

I can't think of anything else just now, but I am sure there would be something for him to do about the village.

[D-Lotus]

I posted a list of all the characters and a brief description to clarify for those who are confused. Its on the first page, first post.

EDIT: By the way, its been around three days and I only have one comment from China. Any sign of life? :shock:

[DELETED]

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[Lebrenth]

Definitely a good chapter. I like the weaving of the story and I think the list of characters is an excellent idea. The size of the chapter is intimidating. It might help to divide it into two parts, even if they are next to each other, so the reader can feel like they're taking small steps instead of leaping over a skyscraper. Even books with long chapters have the benefit of page numbers that make each part of the reading process manageable. Anyway it's a theory.

The DP is very challenging, well done. I'm with Zephyr. If the doctor really is guilty, he should admit it. It's the only fatherly advice Devine can give. However, what if the doctor is accepting too much blame? There must be a way to find out. We have a few days, haven't we? Let's see..... Well if we're going to figure this out, we need to know the details of the operation. We'll need to know how the person died in minute detail. If the doctor finds it too painful to mention, good, tell him it's part of his punishment. It seems to me that someone this devastated by the event has a lot of emotional character and wouldn't kill someone just out of curiosity. He doesn't really believe he's God, but he says he's God.... That's a paradox. He's accusing himself of thinking he's God but he doesn't really believe it. I'm thinking he hasn't actually murdered anyone.... Or he's a total psychopath.... We'll be able to figure it out if he is.

So under the assumption that he's not murdered anyone, what we need to do is get him to accept the possibility of mistakes. We need to challenge him to do something that is impossible to accomplish.

A quick idea, off the cuff and just to give something to work with, you give him a solid iron bar. Tell him his punishment is that he must spend the next few days slowly bending the bar till the ends touch. Tell him it should take at least three days and he has to stay outside the whole time, rain or shine, night or day, and that he may only eat the most humble of meals.

He disguises the lesson as a punishment, and it might only take one night to work. Then Devine talks speaks to the exhausted doctor, telling him that some things are out of his hands, no matter how hard you try. Compare the bar (and get a good strong one!) to his guilt. Tell him they are both unbendable to man, but not to God.

Hopefully it will work out one way or the other. If he did kill the man, tell him that the only thing he can do is reveal his sin and trust God to help him. If he didn't kill the man, help him realize that he truly is mortal and capable of making mistakes... and go ahead and remind him that God is great. It's the Father's profession after all.

We'll call it "The Iron Bar Parable" and if it doesn't work, we'll just hit the doctor with it till he feels better. :)

[D-Lotus]

Quote: size of the chapter is intimidating. It might help to divide it into two parts, even if they are next to each other, so the reader can feel like they're taking small steps instead of leaping over a skyscraper.

I separated the chapter in two sections. I hope that helps. Since I'll be busy this week, I don't mind prolonging the discussion of this chapter before the poll. Faithful readers, I call on you! ;)

[Geek_girl72]

Wow, just caught up with this story and ...I'm impressed, very impressed. You have a fascinating premiss with complicated characters and really thought-provoking questions. I was actually thinking of doing something along the same lines myself, so now I know who to come to for advice : )

The priest should find out the conditions of the death first, or if it even took place, or even if the man is really a doctor. He could be completely dilusional, suffering from Multiple personalities, or playing a prank. My first thought was that it was phineus in disguise trying to prove that Devine can't say what God is for sure, and thus being able to point that out to his followers. I can't wait to see what happens from here, keep it up!

[D-Lotus]

The Poll has been posted!

I will probably go with the first four or five votes if there is a majority, because I'm hot on the next chapter, and have already begun typing. Hopefully, everyone won't vote for their own option and create a four-way tie again. ;)

Happy voting. :D

[DukeReg]

Neat storygame! This is a very original and well thought out idea.

The characters are very emotive; I took an instant dislike to that embodiment of hypocrisy and evil that is Father Turner, which made me wonder why I find it easier to forgive a spiteful and jealous man who is not a priest, and whether my dislike of him and real people like him makes me any better than he is himself... its food for thought as opposed to many storygames that I consider light entertainment.

Anyway, Lebrenth's Iron Bar Parable got my vote.

[JezSharp]

I'm convinced by the iron bar parable too, an excellent dp and a fascinating storyline - nice stuff...initially I thought this would be something like Powers letter series with unrelated dp's, but there is an underlying and intriguing plot running beneath as well. Looking forward to the next chapter :D .

[D-Lotus]

Thank you!

The poll is closed.

The winning choice was: The Iron Parable.

I have already written half of the chapter, therefore I am confident that I will be able to post the next chapter by today or tonight. :D