Read Online TH02 - The Priest of Evil by Matti Joensuu - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Matti Joensuu
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anybody’s group or gang: everywhere he went, he was always alone.
Trembling slightly he took a deep mouthful of air, then another, and his mind was filled once again with the sensation of flying, and it was even better than composing; when the music was already playing, everything happened much quicker. Straight away he began conducting the orchestra, and a moment later he noticed that the shoes lined up beneath the coat rack weren’t just sitting there, they were chattering away to one another. One of them was explaining how it had stepped in some chewing gum, another had stepped in dog’s droppings, while a third recounted how, in a queue at the checkout, it had met such a wonderful pair of high heels that it had fallen in love with them in an instant. And as for the green rug in the living room, it was no longer a rug: it was a raft, a slice of the jungle, drifting upon the ocean, and only it knew where it was heading.
A moment later and everything had turned into a great dance: his legs moved supplely as though he had springs in his knees. He soared across on the jungle raft, flew from one room to the next, finally flying above all the furniture – or at least so he imagined. Nothing else existed, just the flying, not a single one of those bastards or his frightening thoughts. How he loved this!
By now the grains of sand had turned into a great horde of people, a choir singing a hymn, like the beginning of the waltz theme of Also Sprach Zarathustra: tada-diti-ti-tii! The strings began to weave their melody upwards, then a violin appeared and swiftly took the lead, and like a thief his hands slipped out of his pockets and rose up into the air – and that’s when it hit him.
This time it struck him on the temple. It really hurt, like fire. He let out a silent ‘fuck’, and he could feel his lips trembling; he knew that tears were not far away. The sand was once again just sand, and he stood there, his shoulders hunched up, surrounded by the noise of the playground at break time.
They appeared from behind the games wall. That’s where they had thrown the stone. They came straight towards him, first that shit-head Janne, then Stenu, and all of a sudden he felt a desperate need for the toilet.
‘How’s Matti shit-for-brains?’ Janne began. Then they were around him in a semi-circle and he was trapped: behind him was the wall. ‘What’s with the hands? Having a wank?’
‘No.’
‘Have you got such a big dick that you need both hands?’
‘Give it a rest.’
‘Lend us your phone,’ said Stenu. The expression on his face was so demonic that Matti knew what was coming next.
‘No.’
‘Why not? You afraid I’m going to nick it?’
‘No.’
‘Then why won’t you lend it to me?’
‘I haven’t got one.’
‘What? Did you hear that? He hasn’t got a phone!’
They all burst into laughter. It was always false laughter at first, but when they saw how crap he felt, and that he could do nothing but stare at his shoes, it turned into real laughter. Then they all took out their mobile phones – Rike had one of those fancy new ones that can do almost anything – and held them up to their ears. Then it started:
‘Hello? Hello? Can Mummy’s boy Moisio hear?’
‘Pick up! There’s a lot of people calling you!’
He turned and stared at the wall with numbed eyes, but the bastards wouldn’t let him be. They grabbed hold of him and spun him back round.
‘Been looking at pussy on the net again?’
‘He won’t even look you in the eyes! Look!’
‘And why haven’t you been on the net? Say something, you little shit!’
‘I haven’t…’
‘I’ll tell you why: ’cause you haven’t got a computer!’
‘Fuck! He hasn’t got a computer! Do you think he’s got a dick?’
‘Let’s have a look!’
‘Piss off, leave me alone.’
‘And what if we don’t? Going to tell your dad?’
‘Shit-heads!’
‘No you won’t. And do you know why? ’Cause you haven’t got a dad
Trembling slightly he took a deep mouthful of air, then another, and his mind was filled once again with the sensation of flying, and it was even better than composing; when the music was already playing, everything happened much quicker. Straight away he began conducting the orchestra, and a moment later he noticed that the shoes lined up beneath the coat rack weren’t just sitting there, they were chattering away to one another. One of them was explaining how it had stepped in some chewing gum, another had stepped in dog’s droppings, while a third recounted how, in a queue at the checkout, it had met such a wonderful pair of high heels that it had fallen in love with them in an instant. And as for the green rug in the living room, it was no longer a rug: it was a raft, a slice of the jungle, drifting upon the ocean, and only it knew where it was heading.
A moment later and everything had turned into a great dance: his legs moved supplely as though he had springs in his knees. He soared across on the jungle raft, flew from one room to the next, finally flying above all the furniture – or at least so he imagined. Nothing else existed, just the flying, not a single one of those bastards or his frightening thoughts. How he loved this!
By now the grains of sand had turned into a great horde of people, a choir singing a hymn, like the beginning of the waltz theme of Also Sprach Zarathustra: tada-diti-ti-tii! The strings began to weave their melody upwards, then a violin appeared and swiftly took the lead, and like a thief his hands slipped out of his pockets and rose up into the air – and that’s when it hit him.
This time it struck him on the temple. It really hurt, like fire. He let out a silent ‘fuck’, and he could feel his lips trembling; he knew that tears were not far away. The sand was once again just sand, and he stood there, his shoulders hunched up, surrounded by the noise of the playground at break time.
They appeared from behind the games wall. That’s where they had thrown the stone. They came straight towards him, first that shit-head Janne, then Stenu, and all of a sudden he felt a desperate need for the toilet.
‘How’s Matti shit-for-brains?’ Janne began. Then they were around him in a semi-circle and he was trapped: behind him was the wall. ‘What’s with the hands? Having a wank?’
‘No.’
‘Have you got such a big dick that you need both hands?’
‘Give it a rest.’
‘Lend us your phone,’ said Stenu. The expression on his face was so demonic that Matti knew what was coming next.
‘No.’
‘Why not? You afraid I’m going to nick it?’
‘No.’
‘Then why won’t you lend it to me?’
‘I haven’t got one.’
‘What? Did you hear that? He hasn’t got a phone!’
They all burst into laughter. It was always false laughter at first, but when they saw how crap he felt, and that he could do nothing but stare at his shoes, it turned into real laughter. Then they all took out their mobile phones – Rike had one of those fancy new ones that can do almost anything – and held them up to their ears. Then it started:
‘Hello? Hello? Can Mummy’s boy Moisio hear?’
‘Pick up! There’s a lot of people calling you!’
He turned and stared at the wall with numbed eyes, but the bastards wouldn’t let him be. They grabbed hold of him and spun him back round.
‘Been looking at pussy on the net again?’
‘He won’t even look you in the eyes! Look!’
‘And why haven’t you been on the net? Say something, you little shit!’
‘I haven’t…’
‘I’ll tell you why: ’cause you haven’t got a computer!’
‘Fuck! He hasn’t got a computer! Do you think he’s got a dick?’
‘Let’s have a look!’
‘Piss off, leave me alone.’
‘And what if we don’t? Going to tell your dad?’
‘Shit-heads!’
‘No you won’t. And do you know why? ’Cause you haven’t got a dad
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