A monastery, high in the mountains, the steeple on the edifice nearly piercing the face of God, sat silent and stoic for centuries. First one brother, then another, brought whatever baggage they carried from their worldly lives and sat it down inside the solid walls of their cells. Now with baggage safely stowed inside the walls made from the exact same stuff the mountain was made, they were safe to pursue peace in the blissful silence of their brothers.
The brothers served only God and a few goats and chickens. All in complete silence. They were men who had pasts they’d outran, and now their care of animals was a kind of penance for any harm they may have caused to the innocent. They prayed to be worthy, they prayed to be forgiven and they prayed private prayers privy to no one but God’s ears. They wanted to find peace in a place far from war. They wanted to find an ending to desire in a place that scratched no sinful itch. And they hoped to be forgiven in these unforgiving climes.
Brother Thomas gets spooked
One night, Brother Thomas was walking near the front door when he heard a very quiet scratching sound. He was not surprised, figuring it to be one of the goats or chickens, freed by some mistake of Brother John’s. Brother Thomas had come to the monastery after a short career as a pickpocket—short because he was caught on his first day. He’d skipped bail and ended up, after many odd twists and turns, at a monastery on the top of a very high mountain.
“Brother John is a careless man,” thought Thomas. “He left the yeast in the sunlight the last time he made bread. He’s a man who’s always looking for shortcuts.” Thomas shook his head at the thought of John’s rash lifestyle, and opened the door to correct his mistake and put away the lost animal. But the face he was staring into was neither goat nor fowl, which is why it took him so long to run.
When the message to run finally made it from Thomas’s head to his feet, the idea was met with swift implementation. He ran to the first door down the corridor where the brothers all slept. This was Brother Paul’s cell. Paul had lived a comfortable life working in the field of finance. You could say he’d done well for himself. However, he’d used some creative bookkeeping to make sure he did well, and when it was discovered, Paul fled his field, his friends, and his family, and floundered for years on the faltering fringes of society. He’d found his way to the monastery quite organically, and was hiding many things, some of these in monetary form.
Peter and Paul
When Thomas came running in, Paul was not surprised. Thomas was odd. He looked up during prayer. Who does that but a person looking over their shoulder? No, Paul was not surprised to see Thomas miming frantically about some beast or another out in the hall. Paul strode past the untrustworthy Thomas and into the doubtless empty corridor. But empty, it certainly was not! The most horrible aberration Paul had ever dreamed in his most fitful nightmares met his gaze. The horror stood between the door and his mortal coil, so he ran to the next room down. This cell was occupied by Brother Peter.
Peter had been a nice man, a teacher at a grade school. He had lived alone. He’d honed his hermetic habits so he would never have to face his fears. When he could no longer escape his thoughts, he’d moved to the monastery. The deep silence of his brothers was a balm to his wearying self-consciousness.
Paul’s heaving chest inside Peter’s cell filled him with self-loathing. Why had Paul come into his cell like this? This was not Peter’s fault. Paul had dark desires. Peter had noticed that Paul’s eyes were always following him. He looked at Paul often, and Paul was always looking back. The man’s heart was obviously filled with lust and it had driven him mad. Peter wanted nothing to do with this man-beast who could not control his own desires. He felt his self-righteousness grow as he strode out of his cell and into the hall.
Peter stood in the dark hallway, seeing nothing and hearing nothing except his own breath, which was faster than normal. Paul had startled him, was all. Paul’s dark desires were all that stalked these halls. But something cold and moist touched the back of Peter’s neck. He ran like a man who was trying to outrun the devil. And he ran straight into Brother Matthew’s room.
Gentle kindness prevails
Matthew was old and had been there the longest. He was the de facto head abbot by seniority, but not by temperament. He was long past judging anyone. He’d cooled all of his fevers in the high altitude of this sacred space. He saw only brothers striving to serve God. Silence was the only way he’d found to hear God, and he dearly loved hearing that voice in the silent searchings of his brothers. When he saw Peter in great distress, he ran to him to give him comfort. It was a simple kindness from a simple man.
Peter indicated to Matthew that something fearsome awaited them in the hallway. Brother Matthew nodded in understanding, but headed for the door anyway. Peter loved Matthew, as did all the brothers, so he jumped in front of the old man to save him from himself. Matthew gently pushed him aside.
In the hall sat a very small black and white cat. Brother Matthew reached down and picked it up like a long-lost pet, and scratched it affectionately behind the ears.
Peter peeked out and could not believe his eyes. Coiled around Brother Matthew was a giant cobra snake with emerald eyes! Its fully inflated hood looked lethal in an immediate sort of way. He ran past Matthew as a silent scream formed on his face.
Back in Peter’s room, Peter and Paul stared in terror as Matthew entered. Paul saw the giant wolf walking behind the abbot like a pet dog, but its blazing red eyes proved it to be the hellhound he imagined. Of course, he ran. Running was something they all knew how to do. He ran back to the cell where Thomas was still hiding. Paul quickly climbed under the bed, followed by Peter. Matthew walked in behind them with no hint of fear, despite the fact that Thomas could see he was being hunted by a large tiger. Kind old Brother Matthew was about to die, and probably the rest of them, as well.
At that moment, Matthew reached down and picked up the tiger. He pulled a slate from his robes and wrote simply, “Mirror cat.” He returned to his room, stroking the small animal with great love.
If you enjoyed this story, you may want to check out the author’s previous animal tale, GRANDMOTHER TURTLE’S SHELL: A home made with love and care»
