The Good Priest

• Celeste Jeffers, Grade 11, Gympie State High School
• Short Story
• 2014

Excellence Award in the 'Write As Rain 2014' competition

Father Svenston walked, hunched over, into the church. St Reilly's was a family church; it wasn't home to much sorrow. Today, though, there had been many tears spilt upon the steps of the church. A young girl's family had just had to face the truth and put the memory of Emily to rest - the twelve year old that had been missing for months. After investigators found charred remains dumped into the town's lake, she had been presumed dead - even the police were starting to give up on finding her killer. They couldn't identify the body, it was that badly burnt, but judging from the size of it, everyone knew it was Emily.
Father Svenston had given the family his sympathies as he conducted the burial beside his church. Now he wandered down the aisle between the rows of pews, and headed right, towards the door that led down to his cell.
He'd seated himself down by his desk, ready to look over some official documents concerning the church's treasury, when he heard loud, rapid thumps coming from beneath the floorboards. Startled, he stood and scurried over to the trap door that led down to the crypt and opened it. What he saw made his eyes widen in surprise. Emily, standing beneath him with tears running down her face, bloodied and bruised, was crying and trying to crawl out of the crypt. "Oh, Father! Help me! I've b-been down here for so l-long..."
Father Svenston immediately helped Emily up out of the crypt. Her clothes were filthy and torn, with blood dotting her shirt. She looked malnourished; her skin was so pale it was almost translucent. He grabbed a blanket hanging off the back of his chair and draped it around Emily's shoulders. "There, there, my dear. Just sit down for a moment and tell me what has happened."
Emily collapsed weakly into his chair, her frail form trembling. "I-I've been down there for so long..." Unable to go on, she fell silent.
“Did you get a good look at who did this to you?” Father Svenston asked, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. Emily shook her head, her face crumpling with emotion, and burst into tears.
Father Svenston gave her a sympathetic look and walked towards the door of his cell. He walked gracefully without effort, strong and healthy for his age. "I'm very sorry about all this, my dear... I just said goodbye to your parents at the funeral. Everyone thinks you're dead.” Emily stopped crying, looking up in confusion as Father Svenston closed the cell door, slowly locking it and sliding the deadbolt in place. He turned around to face her with his hands clasped in front of him, watching for her reaction. “And it’s going to stay that way.”
A malevolent smile crept up on the priest’s face.
Emily giggled. “I like this game, Father.”