around them fell dead silent. Then the rector's callused finger pointed at Leonard like a pistol. "We shant be tainted by your luciferic pleasures, and I warn you to never venture into our humble midsts! We embrace a life of poverty just as our Saviour did! So keep away from our fold."
And with that, the roughened Epiphanite turned and began to walk away as quickly as he'd arrived. But something irked Leonard, and he felt he had no choice but to inquire.
"Wait, er, sir? Mr. Solomon?"
The stern man turned, his face tensed to crevices like cracks in a dried creekbed. "That's Rector Solomon, of the Blessed Order of Epiphanites!"
"Uh, right, Rector Solomon," Leonard faltered. "But I was wondering—" Indeed, Leonard was, due to the Rector's initial comment. How could this man know what this house really was, and what took place here? Had he snuck up here one night and looked in the windows? Had he talked to the long-haired man—Asshole—whom Leonard had replaced? And if so, what consequences might be present?
"What did you mean when you said...you knew what we were doing up here?"
The narrowed eyes raged back. "Evil is blind and dense! That we reckon you and your kind is my meaning, young sinner! The ungodliness of your lightbulbs and radios and television sets! The smile of satan in your motor-cars and aeroplanes! The evil—the pure and undiluted devil-bred evil , young man!—of your ovens and your washers and your toasters!" The rector turned and began to stomp down the weedy hill, waving a white-cuffed arm. "So stay thee behind us!"
Leonard watched after him for a moment, perplexed. "Well how do you like that?" he muttered under his breath. "Toasters are evil."
««—»»
Leonard almost appreciated Rector Solomon's peculiar intrusion, for it served to divert from the impact of his predicament. Later, he roamed the house without much purpose, just to walk, just to keep moving. If he kept moving he would be less prone to think very deeply and hence calculate this very incalculable situation.
In the first bedroom on the left, he was punched in the face by a stench. He flicked on the light, gagging, and saw the bloodstained drop cloths, the bloodstained work bench, and a bloodstained knitting needle on the floor. At least the body had been removed. In the corner, like an unnoticed scrap, lay something that resembled a crinkled piece of fried eggroll wrapper. Leonard left the room when he realized it was a slough of desiccated human skin.
Another bedroom stood completely empty, while another whose floor was also covered by plastic drop cloths, reeked of oaty excrement and dank animal smells. Leonard backed out.
In the last bedroom, he found the girls. They lay blissfully unconscious and curled up amongst one another on a bare, stained box-spring. Two stubby candles were lit, filling the room with flutters, and on the floor lay tell-tale spoons, rubber tubes, and narrow hypodermic needles. "No, daddy, don't!" Snowdrop blurted in her narcotized sleep. Then Sissy lolled up on an elbow, her near-dead eyes awake.
"Welcome to hell," she slurred and collapsed again.
Leonard blew the candles out and left, closing the door behind him.
««—»»
Suffice it to say, in summation rather than exposition, it was the aforementioned sequence of events that had supplanted Leonard to the current ordeal. The events had begun roughly ten months ago, and in those ten months he had used his prowess for motion photography to produce several dozen short films, or "loops," as they were called then, about twenty minutes each on an edited sixteen-millimeter master. Vinchetti aka "Vinch The Eye" was very pleased with the quality of Leonard's work as Rocco generally brought mentions of praise on his Friday night arrivals. Ninety percent of the works Leonard produced involved the sexual congress between animals and humans, namely Sissy and Snowdrop, who by some mode of miracle managed to stay alive for the entirety of those ten
And with that, the roughened Epiphanite turned and began to walk away as quickly as he'd arrived. But something irked Leonard, and he felt he had no choice but to inquire.
"Wait, er, sir? Mr. Solomon?"
The stern man turned, his face tensed to crevices like cracks in a dried creekbed. "That's Rector Solomon, of the Blessed Order of Epiphanites!"
"Uh, right, Rector Solomon," Leonard faltered. "But I was wondering—" Indeed, Leonard was, due to the Rector's initial comment. How could this man know what this house really was, and what took place here? Had he snuck up here one night and looked in the windows? Had he talked to the long-haired man—Asshole—whom Leonard had replaced? And if so, what consequences might be present?
"What did you mean when you said...you knew what we were doing up here?"
The narrowed eyes raged back. "Evil is blind and dense! That we reckon you and your kind is my meaning, young sinner! The ungodliness of your lightbulbs and radios and television sets! The smile of satan in your motor-cars and aeroplanes! The evil—the pure and undiluted devil-bred evil , young man!—of your ovens and your washers and your toasters!" The rector turned and began to stomp down the weedy hill, waving a white-cuffed arm. "So stay thee behind us!"
Leonard watched after him for a moment, perplexed. "Well how do you like that?" he muttered under his breath. "Toasters are evil."
««—»»
Leonard almost appreciated Rector Solomon's peculiar intrusion, for it served to divert from the impact of his predicament. Later, he roamed the house without much purpose, just to walk, just to keep moving. If he kept moving he would be less prone to think very deeply and hence calculate this very incalculable situation.
In the first bedroom on the left, he was punched in the face by a stench. He flicked on the light, gagging, and saw the bloodstained drop cloths, the bloodstained work bench, and a bloodstained knitting needle on the floor. At least the body had been removed. In the corner, like an unnoticed scrap, lay something that resembled a crinkled piece of fried eggroll wrapper. Leonard left the room when he realized it was a slough of desiccated human skin.
Another bedroom stood completely empty, while another whose floor was also covered by plastic drop cloths, reeked of oaty excrement and dank animal smells. Leonard backed out.
In the last bedroom, he found the girls. They lay blissfully unconscious and curled up amongst one another on a bare, stained box-spring. Two stubby candles were lit, filling the room with flutters, and on the floor lay tell-tale spoons, rubber tubes, and narrow hypodermic needles. "No, daddy, don't!" Snowdrop blurted in her narcotized sleep. Then Sissy lolled up on an elbow, her near-dead eyes awake.
"Welcome to hell," she slurred and collapsed again.
Leonard blew the candles out and left, closing the door behind him.
««—»»
Suffice it to say, in summation rather than exposition, it was the aforementioned sequence of events that had supplanted Leonard to the current ordeal. The events had begun roughly ten months ago, and in those ten months he had used his prowess for motion photography to produce several dozen short films, or "loops," as they were called then, about twenty minutes each on an edited sixteen-millimeter master. Vinchetti aka "Vinch The Eye" was very pleased with the quality of Leonard's work as Rocco generally brought mentions of praise on his Friday night arrivals. Ninety percent of the works Leonard produced involved the sexual congress between animals and humans, namely Sissy and Snowdrop, who by some mode of miracle managed to stay alive for the entirety of those ten
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