This letter was brought to the archive
with Manny Stone's group, as part of Kelly Vargas's journal. It was
found in Father Francis McGraff's office at the Catholic church in
town. This letter was found in the upstairs nursery where the bodies
of the priest and eleven others were found in a circle. All of them
had been shot in the head by one of the men, who then took his own
life.
May 6, 2017
To whomever finds this letter,
My name is Father Francis McGraff and
I've been a Catholic priest since 1978. I know that I'm old and most
of the kids, and even their families, have almost no use for me. My
faith has always been strong, stronger than anyone else I've ever
known. It has been the light that has shown me the way through every
decision and every one of life's little bumps. That's why I don't
understand what has happened.
When the pandemic started, I listened
and laughed at all the kooks who said it was God's retribution or the
beginning of the end times. I thought they were all crazy and the
Catholic church publicized that they agreed with me. After all, where
were all the other signs we were told to look for in Revelations: the
water turned to blood, the plagues, the Antichrist, all of it.
But now, I have seen Hell and it's
minions. I have witnessed the destruction of my town, my people, my
flock. Was I wrong? Is this part of the rapture? The dead are risen,
just not in the way that our church had always taught us they would.
Did my not believing right from the start of the pandemic mean my
faith wavered and I never even knew it? At least, not until today.
How could the loving God I have lived
for all my life have let this evil loose on the world? How could he
just stand by and let his flock, his people, be destroyed and devoured
by these unclean beings? Where is the love, the compassion, I was
taught to preach about? Where is the mercy?
I was on the front lawn of the church
when I heard the first gun shot yesterday. I thought I was hearing
things at first, but then more shots joined the first and then the
undead came into sight. Horrible, unclean things, shambling down our
streets, strips of clothes and flesh hanging from them. This unholy
moaning and groaning coming from their unclean mouths. Dozens of
them, walking and crawling, in a mass of evil, unclean, damned souls,
undead.
I quickly went into the church, closed
and bolted the doors. I had always thought the giant piece of wood
and brackets on the sides that we locked the doors with was just
plain old fashioned and annoying, especially as I have gotten older
and less strong physically. But yesterday, it saved my life. If the
doors had a regular lock on them, instead of the brace made of thick
wood, I would not be here right now and neither would the rest of us.
I sat in our church and watched from
the second story window as my town and my people fought for their
very existence. I prayed as I have never prayed before, for the
safety of my flock. But it was all in vain. No one heard my prayers
and this morning, for the first time in my life, I don't know if
there is a God and if there is, does he even care?
Last night, I was able to let 11
parishioners through the back door and we are all huddled together on
the second floor, in the nursery room. The undead pound on the walls
and doors downstairs and have since they saw me let the last survivor
in. Eventually, they will get through and we will be treated like all
the other townspeople either lying dead or reanimating outside.
Now the debate is what to do with
those of us inside the church. Do we just let the undead come in here
and kill us? Do we kill each other? Ourselves?
The wood of the walls is creaking
downstairs. We are doomed. Old man Warner has a pistol with enough
bullets for all of us. We are going to vote and decided what to do.
Can I kill myself if that is what is decided? Can I kill any of the
others? I have spent so many years as a priest, believing with all my
heart, in the tenants of my faith. Here at the end, I find that I
have lost that belief but still don't know if I can just abandon a
lifetime of teachings...
It has been decided. Old man Warner is
going to shoot us all and then himself but only if the undead get
inside the church. May God, if he exists, have mercy on our souls for
what we have decided here today. And if he does exist, may he forgive
me my loss of faith.
Father Francis McGraff
As a writer and artist, I appreciate
any readers and their comments. Thank you for taking the time to read
this blog. Please, come read the other blog I write for our artisan
collective, Raven's Castle Creations, on our website at
www.ravencastlecreations.com. It includes posts on art, the mythology
of symbols we use in our art, history and more! Also, come see the
art we produce in our Etsy store at
etsy.com/shop/RavenCastleCreations. Follow us on Twitter at
@ravencastleart and on Facebook at @ravencastlecreations.
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