The three devils...at the deathbed confession...
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mrmadam
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The three devils...at the deathbed confession...
This short story that I wrote later turned into the book I published and remained the beggining of the. Tell me how you like it, and please don't be afraid to hurt my feelings...
Commotion in front of the Cathedral...
The three black devils made their way through the fog in the night towards Zagreb's city Kaptol, part of the upper town, which is just above the main square. Zajdo, Krakarakakaus, and another one with them, without a name. In complete darkness, they followed from a distance the dim light from the top of Zagreb's Cathedral as a target of their final goal. They fidgeted all the way. They walked twenty meters as fast as if they were going to start running and then the next twenty meters very slowly as if something scared them, so slow that it could not be noticed if they stopped or were still moving, then again twenty meters almost in a race and then again twenty yards as slow as if they were stopping, and so all the way they immersed themselves with their whole being in their gait, constantly changing the pace and speed of movement. These were the prayers of those of a pure heart that stopped them every single time and equally the sins and curses of the unpure hearts of wicked men who drove them forward. They walked along the most famous Zagreb street, Ilica until they came to the square where there was once a monument to the Croatian ban who foolishly conquered Budapest and Vienna in 1849. because the Austrians fired him in the midst of the revolutionary events of 1848. And it was these same Austrians who eventually proclaimed him as a Regent of all of Hungary, after first initially correcting their decision by bombing themselves in their backyard in Vienna, together with Ban who helped them bomb themselves upon his arrival, flooding Vienna with Croatian anti-revolutionary fury. The blackest devil, Zajdo, scolded himself:"We will not linger for a second on the site of the former monument to this historical comedy and our defeat of 1848. We turn left into this alley that leads up, to Cathedral, quickly my brethren…"
Zajdo looked like a horse standing on two legs, he was six feet tall and he was the tallest one among them, he was completely black. He had thick black hair that completely covered his body, and he was naked only around his penis, which he stretched as constantly as he walked, masturbating every second. He had two long black horns on his head that reached another meter high, connected with two meters of his length from the head to the beginning of the horns, his long black horns perfectly matched his body size. His tongue protruded out of his mouth, so the tip of his protruding black tongue always, and in every moment touched that lower part of his terrible devil's chin.
He wore heavy, loud clogs on his feet, and was further adorned with magical emeralds and silver jewelry, as well as all kinds of pearls, topazes, and opals, and all kinds of other precious stones and gems and jules, which, variously ornamented, made a clattering/greasy sound at every step, which was a delight to hear anyone walk in; Like the sound of a multitude of horses' hoofs beating the ground as they go into the battle! Like the sound of approaching cavalry with iron-shod Turkish Akindjy warriors on horseback. He wore clothes only above his clogs because his lower legs were partly bloody sores from a long journey, so he wrapped himself in a rustling fabric of a mixture of the finest satin and silk and cloth. All together he sang as he walked, with his all being! Scream, scream, scream! For the, For the!!! Pleasure!!! Ohh, my brethren, what a feast for the eyes and the ears!!! What a goropad delight, at this sight!!!
"Yeah ... mmmmmm, we're nice, real gentlemen"
Kraka-ra-kakaus, cmon, spell it right!!!
Kraka-ra-kakaus, yeah, spell my name!!!
Kraka-ra-kakaus!!!
Kraka-ra-kakaus!!!”
“Come on, pronounce my name correctly !!! Come on, come on, please ... get serious... oh well, just come on ...Pronounce it correctly a thousand times! And don't mispronounce R instead of K! You keep repeating my name correctly and you will see what a pleasure it is to repeat my name! But pleasure is only if you know how to pronounce it correctly! Taste what I offer you! Just repeat, just repeat! "The one with that name roared.
They climbed the small alley that leads uphill from the square to the cathedral, fast or slow, they were always so physically concentrated around Zajdo in the center of their society. They came to the cathedral on the kaptol. Krakarakakaus noticed a nativity scene with little Jesus made of wood in front of the cathedral this Christmas time, a Bethlehem stable with various biblical figures, Joseph, Mary, and shepherds lined up around the figure of little baby Jesus lying in the middle of the straws completely alone. Mother Mary did not hold him in her arms but looked at him kindly from a distance of two meters together with the shepherds and Joseph, her face illumined with gentleness, caressing his gaze. Next to Jesus, there was a burning fire that illuminated the whole manger with a special bright flame of hope, someone talented tried to put everything in its place to create an ambiance of fire that burns peacefully and unobtrusively in the night, thus enticing passers-by to stop and feel peace. a mind that hypnotically provides him with an arrangement of things in the manger, the harmony of nature caused by God's birth, the Catholic magic of the night...
"Are they wax figures or are they wooden?" Krakarakakaus stepped into the crib space and sat down next to the statue of Mary, whom he stared blankly at the rhythms of his question for a very long time. He approached the fire in the middle and began to swell his arms toward the fire, warming his frostbitten palms. Unlike the first one, he wore blue clothes all over his body, which were bright fluorescent blue that shone strikingly in the dark, almost like a walking blue light bulb. A fluorescent, magical phenomenon, with its image it fits into the project of the nativity scene. His hair protruded from that something like the jacket of the suit he was wearing and the hair was bluish or under the influence of the suit, or it seemed as if it were so. His face was like a pig's, except that he had medium-long horns on his head, about thirty centimeters long. Unlike Zajdo who had black eye sockets, Krakarakakaus had pupils that went irretrievably up somewhere, he had "pupils all in white" so you can feel like someone else is looking at you through him. When you look at his eyes, you can't see him through them, that it's not him in himself anymore...
"Surely they wouldn't leave the wax so close to the fire, and I'm not sure these figures are wooden, for the same reason" - analyzing the third nameless devil around the fire, next to St. Joseph, and Zajdo joined him in a deploying manner. Waving his arms around the fire, now fast, now slow ...
"Look at this, well isn't this is a famous Zagreb theater actress, Mrs. Lidija?!"
The three of them, by the fire, harnessed, at the warning of the nameless, a torn look at the two silhouettes that passed on the other side of the space in front of the cathedral...
The devil without a name had human eyes, eyes of pure lust, so he was the quietest of the three and so he didn't have a name because he didn't have time for a name, he forgot his name because he was always, every second, concentrating on one and only one thought.
"Jooooooj, well that's that conservative actress, who refuses naked roles in plays, I know her, yes yes ... that's why she walks around this religious kaptol place now at this time, she's probably coming back from the evening mass, whore! Is that her son with her?!"
Zajdo looked back at the fire: "Guys, don't forget why we came here! We have a task!"
"What we're interested in is there, in the monastery, next to the cathedral, that's what we came for!"
The nameless devil ignored Zajdo's words, got up, and headed steeply toward Mrs. Lydia and her son. Walking instantly turned into a crash towards his goal, like a kamikaze, in the hundreds the space between him and Mrs. Lydia began to disappear, fall into the abyss, he breathed like a calf, and his lifeless, nameless appearance only now in such a panting state began to absorb, created energies, get the contours of the face and body image by which it was possible to describe it! Until that moment, he was just a silhouette, a ghost without a spirit, a display in the fog, an undefined character, the definition of an undefined spirit in space...
Nameless devil - he had tiny black eyes. He had a great knowledge of God. He looked like a young man in his twenties. The other two devils called him Maria, but he never responded to that name when they called him that: "Hihihihihhihihihi, I'll knead your tits bitch, and the son will look around, hihihihhiihhiihhihihihi ...."
He punched her son in the back and knocked him to the floor. He took out his genitals. "Now I have to masturbate!!! Life at last!!!"
At that moment, when he grabbed his genitals with his hands, spines came out of his palms, like thorns, and stabbed his penis… AAAAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!
"How did you stumble in the middle of a straight road, genius?" Mrs. Lydia picked up her son and shook the dust off him, looked back to see if anyone had seen the unusual fall, she sensed that stopping their brisk walk in front of the Cathedral might attract some gypsies who are always there begging money from the faithful, and it was already late night and it was smartest to hurry home...
And her son's name was Dean. Dean came home later and couldn't explain to himself why he felt so horny, he had to watch porn magazines until late at night to calm down as if someone had injected lewd energy into his body...
The nameless devil returned with cries and howls back to the manger and back to his original, permanent form. A lifeless, idealess form, without soul, that is nothing...
"You know we can't get things in life like that?!" Zajdo muttered to himself, fatherly and calmly. "And now you will not have the energy you spent on this for our task, you have spent it!”
Krakarakakaus wanted to add something but decided to save energy after the look Zajdo gave him, focusing his mental state on preventing further ammunition, they both know that most of their energy goes to their inner conflicts anyway, so they lose regularly. Instead of addressing the nameless silhouette and potential conflict Krakarakakaus looked past the nameless silhouette, and as if speaking to a statue of St. Joseph, with the real message going to the nameless devil, said: "There is a time and a place, and a there is a way when we can get anything we want, don't forget that Dean, so we don't do all this for free and for nothing, don't you understand that?"
Zajdo was looking peacefully straight into the nameless one eyes: "It was revealed to people through that diary that this Polish nun wrote that a sinner must know that he will be punished in eternity in a terrible and indescribable way with that same organ with which he did evil. That's your punishment by God that you will bear forever and ever, nameless one, for committing adultery and rape in your lifetime, every time you will want to have a sexual delight your own palms will stab your genitals so you can't even masturbate when the wish comes to you in passion, is that frustrating for you my friend? Imagine, having that developed, profound wish for sexual intercourse as you have, thinking bout nothing else but sex in your life and the women, and to never ever have a chance to have just a bit of pleasure of that kind again, never and ever, I feel sorry for you my friend of misery..." With one truth that Maria was still unaware of, as the youngest of the three, Zajdo killed the very essence of his being, his very core, making him turn into a sad lifeless silhouette even more. He did directly the opposite of what Krakarakakaus wanted to do to make the nameless calm down and motivate him, this made Krakarakakaus angry...
"Why did you say this to him, Zajdo? For me and you, there is still a chance to enjoy, we are punished differently, but for him, it's over forever !" Why are you doing this Zajdo? Why? A minute ago you were contemplating our task. You will make him without energy even more!"
"I said it because I'm the worst devil out of the three of us, only a maniac would do it at this moment. I said it because I don't care for him. That was me in my lifetime and here I am again. My punishment is to rot knowing there is nobody I know that is worst than me and nobody is stronger than me, and there is nobody smarter than me, and yet, it is you, Krakarakakaus, that brought me here! And your punishment, mister Krakarakakaus, is to know that there is someone stronger than you and sooner or later I will get bored watching you. And when that happens it's over with you pleasuring me all the time and then begins your problems...
Zajdo finally sighed deeply, looked at little Jesus in the manger, and said it was time to start doing what they came here for. He looked again at the baby Jesus in the manger, then he took the hands of the other two devils, in his hand, and with the hands joined together said: "Let us pray! They knelt down, joined hands together, raised them high in the air, and began to pray, repedeatly chanting:"
“When you die, you will go to heaven, and you will enter the communion of the saints!
Know what that means?
Means you will never f*ck again!
There is no true joy in God, no youthful hair, no girlish breasts, no real happiness, no no...
No dance, no song, no no...
There are only shadows of souls...
Never go there, because once you go, you can never come back...
Don't go there, don't go, there's no real joy there. There are only shadows of souls that were once young...
Now they are forever old, like a great shadow that guides them...
The shadow fell on them forever, and closed their eyes, so that they would never see song and joy again...
Christ possessed!
Please don't go there, please...
There is no true joy in God, no youthful hair, no girlish breasts, no is there any real happiness, no no no, no no no…
You are in my heart Dean…
Success…“
I. ZAGREB IN THE MIST
Zagreb. 1968.
"According to the prophecy of Saint Brigit evil people will prevail in the year 1980. See how close we are today to these events mister Krznar, just another twelve years and we are there! Devil's agents act with fury! According to our information, coming from the Vatican secret services, young people will be forced to lose their virginity before marriage, such terrible pressure will be created, even through the media, that no one will be able to resist. Same as with abortion, evil will only rise, medical procedures will be turned into procedures that are life-threatening for young women, and eventually, for safety reasons, children will be killed in the abortions until their ninth month in the mother's womb, hospitals will slaughter small babies, they will wait for the child to be born first, so they will cruelly kill them at the moment when the babies are already out of the mother's womb in safety, they will crush their small heads with those forceps like teething! So if the child is already born but alive then this child is no longer an obstacle to the mother in any respect for life, is it? But no! That's where the story goes in reverse! These are truly devilish deeds!
We live in the wicked times, you understand Mr. Krznar, people's exposure to negative influences is very high, many things come into your head that would not normally enter your head, it is best not to watch television that broadcasts bad influences on young people, turn off the radio which conveys savage beats in the heart that stir up a rebellious spirit. You blame yourself too much for some things, you increase the weight of your sin too much, it is enough to say to yourself, "God, have mercy, I am here, I am your child and I want to go to heaven with my father, Jesus, come to my aid!"
The Spaniard was sitting on a narrow chair, next to the dying man's bed, in a position opposite to a small narrow window, from which his gaze shot over a great void, outside the monastery, and he constantly kept his gaze fixed in the direction of the window, never turning it in the direction of the dying man, to whom he was speaking. The window was a meter and a half away from him, and the entire monastery bedroom was only three and a half meters long and barely two meters wide, so in such a narrow space, the problem was to get out of the room, when passing the bed, and the chair had to be removed to do it. The walls were grey-white, damaged by moisture, which created, somewhere dark yellow spots, somewhere light yellow spots, everywhere on the wall, like written charters, and gave a clear smell to the room, magnifying the feeling of the claustrophobic narrowness of the room, but it could not be clearly recognized, whether the walls had lost their color due to moisture, from gray to white, or from white to gray, because everything was dotted with yellow spots. "To me, it's like a beautiful painting of art!" The Spaniard commented, while at one point he stared at a part of the wall. "It is an exaggeration of your guilt for what you are doing to yourself, for such things as disturbing you, it is enough to say that you have had lewd thoughts, and that is all. That is an exaggeration on your part. You are not a rapist, sir ... You are imagining... You should put yourself in order, pick up the rosary, find places on the day of prayer, put God first, if God is first, everything else is in the right place, you understand, Mr. Krznar?! That's how it should work for you in a normal order of things!"
The Spaniard calmly and routinely recited, telling the same story for the tenth time that week, five of them just for Mr. Krznar, a 96-year-old gentleman who was dying. Krznar was a regular member of the Catholic community who, through his constant attendance at Mass and the work of the church, was able to receive this posthumous protection through connections and five interventions in one week for the same person in fear and panic of his impending death. Then the sacrament of Holy Confession was performed, Holy Communion was performed, a speech of spiritual fraternal encouragement was performed, the same speech was performed once again at the personal request...
"Organized prayer of the rosary for the dying, organized this new prayer of this new rosary - this new form of devotion introduced from Poland this year - the Rosary of Divine Mercy coming to us from Krakow thanks to this promising and praised Archbishop of Krakow... Woytila ... I forgot his name. You know, mister Krznar, we did everything you needed to do in one week, you may not die at all this week, you don't look so bad, the doctors tell me that you have pre-dramatized your condition in the last couple of times. For years now, you are constantly dying, and finally, you have to die once, you are still ninety-six years old, that awaits us all once and for all, mister Krznar, that is the will of God... "
"Ra.... rap ... ra ..." The dying old man was gasping for air and was trying to catch his breath so that he could express his troubles again and what was bothering him in the depths of his soul. His efforts did not come to the approval of the priest Sanchez, a priest from Spain on temporary work in the city of Zagreb, which had lasted for ten years already. Sanchez was hungry and hurried to lunch: "Ohhhhh, not the rapings again, just not that!" He thought to himself as the old man rose more and more from the bed to a semi-sitting position...
"I want you to confess me, I need to let go of my soul!" Mister Krznar straightened up forward enough that he could now speak normally.
"But you have already confessed, Mr. Krznar, do you understand? You have confessed twice this week, also yesterday, you could not do anything new within ten hours, nailed to the bed here, at the age of ninety six, completely impaired in health, and I am a witness that you are a man of good will, and according to the teaching of the Catholic Church, all men of good will are saved, that is, such persons are not in the state of the mortal sin!”
"And where does it say that? Tell me this information, I must know!" retorted Krznar.
"It is written somewhere, Mr. Krznar, surely we would not say that without reason. You do not expect me to dig into the theological books and dogmas of our science, do you?"
"I take your word for it, but you my dear Alfonso, as a priest, know that I must confess once more what weighs upon my soul momentarily in order to let it go for good!" The Spaniard nodded reluctantly, looking down at the floor as he nervously ran his fingers over the rosary. He knew he could not turn him away, no matter how hard it was and no matter how futile his efforts, because the situation was that Mr. Krznar might be dying, you never know, and we will all be there one day and maybe he will be like this too. Then it will be difficult for all of us. "Okay, mister, I will hear your confession, if that is what you need for your soul to be at peace, I will hear your confession again every day if needed, but I will also tell you that your soul is not in danger, you are a collected man in a state of God's grace! " The Spaniard signaled with his hand that the confession could begin, gently lifting her into the air above the bed and pulling her towards him, signaling with his fingers for Mr. Krznar to open up to him in spirit...
"I repentantly confess all my sins, the last time I confessed was yesterday afternoon!"
The Spaniard ran his hand briefly over the front, middle bald part of his scalp. "All right, Mr. Krznar, we can skip the opening form, you can say what's on your mind..."
"I have imagined raping women all my life, that's what aroused me the most, in all possible combinations, whenever I masturbated I imagined raping women." Krznar took one deep breath and continued. "I masturbated every day all my life, and during the time when I went to church all the time, or even every day at some times, and during the time when it was not advisable to go to church here in Yugoslavia for political reasons, after the Second World War ended, when everything was still fresh!”
“I masturbated on all the women I met in my life, and every one I masturbated ended up in my fantasies where she was massively raped by groups of Chetniks, Yugoslav Partisans, Ustasha, Fascist Italians, Nazis, Cossacks, the Red Army, by every army that ever marched through this country, by everybody. Many of these poor women were raped by me in my imagination, but the vast majority were gang raped, as in war, just as these horrors took place in reality. I have always tried to imagine rape as realistically as possible, as it looks in reality, with the obligatory kidnapping of a woman, squealing and screaming and crying. The moaning and groaning of poor women, that’s what got me excited the most of all in my everyday war-rape fantasies.
"Okay, you have said enough! I understand what you are trying to tell me!" The Spaniard Sanchez made a sign that it was enough for old Krznar to confess his problem to him, although he had already confessed the same thing to him five or six times, he could not even count how many times old Mr. Krznar had confessed the same thing to him...
The old man began to coagulate his expression as if he were going to cry, but only for a moment, he was not even close to starting to cry, it was just his expression of uneasiness that Sanchez was suspending the further process of liberation of his soul. "Do you want to take everything away from me on my deathbed? Is it possible that you will deny me further confession, indispensable for the salvation of my soul?"
"On the contrary, I'm here to help you! "
"God has chosen me as a priest and sent me into your life to give you sure guidance, to make sure you are on the right path so that you do not fall into the trap of the devil who wants to disturb you and question the salvation of your soul! And I have to inform you that in your case it is an exaggeration of what you are doing! So you give too much importance to some of your fantasies that have no basis in reality. As far as I know, you did not rape anyone and did not kill anyone, right?"
"Yes, that's right, I'm not really, but..."
Sanchez interrupted Krznar's speech again with a wave of his hand. "You never planned to rape anyone in real life, did you? "
"No, I didn't, nor did I think of such a thing!"
"Well, you see, Mr. Krznar, if you haven't raped anyone in your life and if you haven't planned to rape anyone in your life then you have nothing to do with rape or rape planning in your life, do you, Mr. Krznar?"
"That's right, I didn't plan to rape anyone and I could never do that, I know myself well enough to know that I just couldn't!" Sanchez felt that the end of this confession about rape was approaching and the moment of his departure for lunch, he could almost feel in his stomach how his stomach greeted him as a sign of welcome for quickly maneuvering long fantasy descriptions of rape that he regularly listened to at Mr. Krznar's confessions...
"Oh, great, so we can conclude this; you have sinned lewd thoughts with your fantasies about raping various women. You have sinned only masturbation with your fantasies about rape, and you have sinned wanting married women. These are all grave sins but they are also common and characteristic of most people I meet in my craft, so to conclude, your fantasies about rape count only as of the sin of lewd thoughts and not as the sin of rape or say adultery..."
"But Jesus said that he who looks with lust at a woman has sinned adultery!"
Sanchez winced briefly and snapped. "Yes, you are right! The truth is, this sin you committed, it can also be counted as the sin of adultery, and your thoughts unclean!"
Krznar continued, "For if you only imagine sex with her, according to Jesus, that is the same as having it!"
Sanchez: "That's right!"
Krznar: "Well, I imagined raping women, which by Jesus' standards means it's the same as raping those women!"
Sanchez: "Well, I would not say that. I do not agree with that!"
Krznar: "And how can we find out what exactly Jesus meant in this particular case, or what he was thinking?"
Sanchez: "We do not know, and we will never know until we meet the good Lord in eternity, but I am not going to insist on asking him that particular question, maybe you could?!”
Krznar: "Now you are making fun of me!"
Sanchez: "Maybe I am making fun of you for two reasons, first because I do not understand you and second because you are exhausting! If I am to be honest, I am really hungry and would like to have lunch as soon as possible. With all due respect, we have confessed enough for today, even if your sin is fornication and worse than what you thought, the good God forgave you for that a long time ago! "
At that moment, Sanchez demonstratively got up and moved away from the bed, began to put on a scarf, but not yet a coat, giving the impression that he had something to say before leaving the room. As he wandered around the room, he approached the window of the monastery, where he managed to catch a brief glimpse of the square in front of the monastery and in front of the Zagrebs Cathedral. It was a foggy Zagreb morning, the fog had not lifted since the night before. One could hardly see anything…
They could not see the finger in front of their nose. only silhouettes in the distance. This Christmas in 1968. was without snow and it seemed as if the whole year would be without snow ...
"The sexual revolution in Paris, we were not good this year, neither God will help us anymore, nor send snow!" A gypsy woman was shouting in front of the cathedral, trying to encourage the passers-by in front of the church to give her some money...
Sanchez looked at the nativity scenes in front of the Cathedral and noticed that they were arranged differently than he had left them yesterday, the figures were placed differently and St. Joseph did not have his hat on his head, which he had invented especially for these nativity scenes. He could not see well through the mist, but it seemed to him that there were still some people sitting in the manger...
"Where were we?" Old Krznar interrupted him again with a thoughtful look out the window. "We stopped where I was going for lunch!" The Krznar now fired hastily from his cannon; "There's something else I have never confessed or told you!"
Sanchez: "Uffff, this must be another case of imaginary rape?!"
Krznar: "Yes, but this case is different from all the cases mentioned so far!"
Sanchez: "Believe it or not, I wonder what you are going to say?!"
Krznar: "Immediately after the war there was a young Ustasha military woman from the NDH youth machine!" Sanchez thought he was good at reading people, and now he sensed something that would really sound even worse...
"And what did you do to her?" He replied.
"I did not do anything to her, but this Ustasha girl was raped by the Yugoslav partisans at the end of the war. I knew she was raped and I masturbated every day on her and her rape event!"
Sanchez stepped away from the bed Krznar was lying on again and stared out the window.
He stared wordlessly out the window into the distance for a while, deliberately allowing silence to fill the room with its omnipotent presence. He willingly allowed the unease to enter in the awkward relationship between himself and his dying protégé.
Now Krznar was silent, he bowed his head, surrendered to shame, but he bowed his head down a little and at that moment he no longer pressed with questions and his demands. The silence suddenly crystallized so abruptly in all four corners of the room at that moment. The end of the sounds.
Now you could hear the ticking of the clock, but the smallest hand that indicates the seconds is constantly tapping with a slightly muffled voice that is impossible to imitate with a human mouth, because that sound is just too specific...
"I told you about this new devotion from Poland. We have prayed them before in the past few days, but I do not know to what extent the insights I tried to impart to you about these supposed apparitions of a certain sister from a Polish convent have captured your mind. I doubt if you have been listening to me all these days, for I have spoken to you quickly, Slaven. Your name is Slaven, is it not, Mr. Krznar?
"This devotion has been banned until this year. I mean, forbidden by the Church!" "Yes, I understand what you are saying, mister, I always forget your name priest although I call you by name frequently?" Krznar asked.
"Alfonso! Alfonso Sanchez!" Sanchez retorted.
"And now this year in Krakow they have lifted the ban on these proclamations of Heaven to this nun in the Polish convent, Faustina Kowalska, it was pronounced by this new Archbishop in Krakow - Wojtyla.
"Yes, I see!" Krznar trailed off his thoughts...
"And what I want to say to you is that in your case, I mean your conscience, which you cannot calm, perhaps the wisest thing is to try to pray the rosary properly and to put a picture of this rosary on your chest while you are lying on the bed or on the wall right next to you. I am not your judge, Mr. Krznar, if you wish, I will pray with you!"
"Yes, of course, thank you, young Mr. Alfonso!"
"Because you see, Mr. Krznar, it is Jesus himself, through St. Faustina, who is promising to every soul who prays that rosary at least once in their lifetime to give some grace of God at the end of their life, in the most important moment of all and that is our death. Jesus also promised that those souls who worship the image of Divine Mercy will not be lost! This is probably because these souls are called to the greatest attribute of God, and that is God's Mercy! You understand, Mr. Krznar, this is very important and great information in our world, in our church. and in our lives! Do you know that one should pray a lot every day for the dying?!"
Alfonso began to rummage through his belongings, and as he took the draft of the rosary out of his pocket, he read the documents delivered to the Kaptol in Zagreb, directly from Krakow, relating to the rosary, and said: "This is not just about you, it's about me also, see what Jesus revealed in the diary made by sister Faustina, so he gave him a semi-yellow paper, on which it was written:
"Souls, who become apostles and spreaders of my mercy, I will protect all their lives as a mother protects her newborn, and at the time of their death, I will not be a Judge for them but a Savior. At the hour of death, the soul has nothing to defend itself with but my mercy. Blessed is that soul, who all her life has endeavored to be under the protection of my mercy, for such a soul will not receive my justice. " I promise that the soul who worships this image will not be lost. Already in this world, I promise her victory over her enemies, especially at the hour of death. "
Sanchez took his rosary, dissolved a huge rosary with large grains, a long rosary from Spain, from the place called Garabandal, it fell over his whole legs in length, almost to the floor...
"This is how the rosary of Divine Mercy is prayed, Mr. Krznar!" At those first words, all the claustrophobia, the narrow space of the room, the smell of damp walls, and all the sources of condemning emotions, in the old heart of Slaven Krznar, were broken. Soon, the destruction created in the room, with the speed of lightning, spread further, through the narrow corridors of the monastery, as if it were traveling, for the Spaniard prayed loudly, and his voice traveled through the narrow corridors of the monastery, every ear heard it, and every heart felt it, throughout the monastery.
Commotion in front of the Cathedral...
The three black devils made their way through the fog in the night towards Zagreb's city Kaptol, part of the upper town, which is just above the main square. Zajdo, Krakarakakaus, and another one with them, without a name. In complete darkness, they followed from a distance the dim light from the top of Zagreb's Cathedral as a target of their final goal. They fidgeted all the way. They walked twenty meters as fast as if they were going to start running and then the next twenty meters very slowly as if something scared them, so slow that it could not be noticed if they stopped or were still moving, then again twenty meters almost in a race and then again twenty yards as slow as if they were stopping, and so all the way they immersed themselves with their whole being in their gait, constantly changing the pace and speed of movement. These were the prayers of those of a pure heart that stopped them every single time and equally the sins and curses of the unpure hearts of wicked men who drove them forward. They walked along the most famous Zagreb street, Ilica until they came to the square where there was once a monument to the Croatian ban who foolishly conquered Budapest and Vienna in 1849. because the Austrians fired him in the midst of the revolutionary events of 1848. And it was these same Austrians who eventually proclaimed him as a Regent of all of Hungary, after first initially correcting their decision by bombing themselves in their backyard in Vienna, together with Ban who helped them bomb themselves upon his arrival, flooding Vienna with Croatian anti-revolutionary fury. The blackest devil, Zajdo, scolded himself:"We will not linger for a second on the site of the former monument to this historical comedy and our defeat of 1848. We turn left into this alley that leads up, to Cathedral, quickly my brethren…"
Zajdo looked like a horse standing on two legs, he was six feet tall and he was the tallest one among them, he was completely black. He had thick black hair that completely covered his body, and he was naked only around his penis, which he stretched as constantly as he walked, masturbating every second. He had two long black horns on his head that reached another meter high, connected with two meters of his length from the head to the beginning of the horns, his long black horns perfectly matched his body size. His tongue protruded out of his mouth, so the tip of his protruding black tongue always, and in every moment touched that lower part of his terrible devil's chin.
He wore heavy, loud clogs on his feet, and was further adorned with magical emeralds and silver jewelry, as well as all kinds of pearls, topazes, and opals, and all kinds of other precious stones and gems and jules, which, variously ornamented, made a clattering/greasy sound at every step, which was a delight to hear anyone walk in; Like the sound of a multitude of horses' hoofs beating the ground as they go into the battle! Like the sound of approaching cavalry with iron-shod Turkish Akindjy warriors on horseback. He wore clothes only above his clogs because his lower legs were partly bloody sores from a long journey, so he wrapped himself in a rustling fabric of a mixture of the finest satin and silk and cloth. All together he sang as he walked, with his all being! Scream, scream, scream! For the, For the!!! Pleasure!!! Ohh, my brethren, what a feast for the eyes and the ears!!! What a goropad delight, at this sight!!!
"Yeah ... mmmmmm, we're nice, real gentlemen"
Kraka-ra-kakaus, cmon, spell it right!!!
Kraka-ra-kakaus, yeah, spell my name!!!
Kraka-ra-kakaus!!!
Kraka-ra-kakaus!!!”
“Come on, pronounce my name correctly !!! Come on, come on, please ... get serious... oh well, just come on ...Pronounce it correctly a thousand times! And don't mispronounce R instead of K! You keep repeating my name correctly and you will see what a pleasure it is to repeat my name! But pleasure is only if you know how to pronounce it correctly! Taste what I offer you! Just repeat, just repeat! "The one with that name roared.
They climbed the small alley that leads uphill from the square to the cathedral, fast or slow, they were always so physically concentrated around Zajdo in the center of their society. They came to the cathedral on the kaptol. Krakarakakaus noticed a nativity scene with little Jesus made of wood in front of the cathedral this Christmas time, a Bethlehem stable with various biblical figures, Joseph, Mary, and shepherds lined up around the figure of little baby Jesus lying in the middle of the straws completely alone. Mother Mary did not hold him in her arms but looked at him kindly from a distance of two meters together with the shepherds and Joseph, her face illumined with gentleness, caressing his gaze. Next to Jesus, there was a burning fire that illuminated the whole manger with a special bright flame of hope, someone talented tried to put everything in its place to create an ambiance of fire that burns peacefully and unobtrusively in the night, thus enticing passers-by to stop and feel peace. a mind that hypnotically provides him with an arrangement of things in the manger, the harmony of nature caused by God's birth, the Catholic magic of the night...
"Are they wax figures or are they wooden?" Krakarakakaus stepped into the crib space and sat down next to the statue of Mary, whom he stared blankly at the rhythms of his question for a very long time. He approached the fire in the middle and began to swell his arms toward the fire, warming his frostbitten palms. Unlike the first one, he wore blue clothes all over his body, which were bright fluorescent blue that shone strikingly in the dark, almost like a walking blue light bulb. A fluorescent, magical phenomenon, with its image it fits into the project of the nativity scene. His hair protruded from that something like the jacket of the suit he was wearing and the hair was bluish or under the influence of the suit, or it seemed as if it were so. His face was like a pig's, except that he had medium-long horns on his head, about thirty centimeters long. Unlike Zajdo who had black eye sockets, Krakarakakaus had pupils that went irretrievably up somewhere, he had "pupils all in white" so you can feel like someone else is looking at you through him. When you look at his eyes, you can't see him through them, that it's not him in himself anymore...
"Surely they wouldn't leave the wax so close to the fire, and I'm not sure these figures are wooden, for the same reason" - analyzing the third nameless devil around the fire, next to St. Joseph, and Zajdo joined him in a deploying manner. Waving his arms around the fire, now fast, now slow ...
"Look at this, well isn't this is a famous Zagreb theater actress, Mrs. Lidija?!"
The three of them, by the fire, harnessed, at the warning of the nameless, a torn look at the two silhouettes that passed on the other side of the space in front of the cathedral...
The devil without a name had human eyes, eyes of pure lust, so he was the quietest of the three and so he didn't have a name because he didn't have time for a name, he forgot his name because he was always, every second, concentrating on one and only one thought.
"Jooooooj, well that's that conservative actress, who refuses naked roles in plays, I know her, yes yes ... that's why she walks around this religious kaptol place now at this time, she's probably coming back from the evening mass, whore! Is that her son with her?!"
Zajdo looked back at the fire: "Guys, don't forget why we came here! We have a task!"
"What we're interested in is there, in the monastery, next to the cathedral, that's what we came for!"
The nameless devil ignored Zajdo's words, got up, and headed steeply toward Mrs. Lydia and her son. Walking instantly turned into a crash towards his goal, like a kamikaze, in the hundreds the space between him and Mrs. Lydia began to disappear, fall into the abyss, he breathed like a calf, and his lifeless, nameless appearance only now in such a panting state began to absorb, created energies, get the contours of the face and body image by which it was possible to describe it! Until that moment, he was just a silhouette, a ghost without a spirit, a display in the fog, an undefined character, the definition of an undefined spirit in space...
Nameless devil - he had tiny black eyes. He had a great knowledge of God. He looked like a young man in his twenties. The other two devils called him Maria, but he never responded to that name when they called him that: "Hihihihihhihihihi, I'll knead your tits bitch, and the son will look around, hihihihhiihhiihhihihihi ...."
He punched her son in the back and knocked him to the floor. He took out his genitals. "Now I have to masturbate!!! Life at last!!!"
At that moment, when he grabbed his genitals with his hands, spines came out of his palms, like thorns, and stabbed his penis… AAAAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!
"How did you stumble in the middle of a straight road, genius?" Mrs. Lydia picked up her son and shook the dust off him, looked back to see if anyone had seen the unusual fall, she sensed that stopping their brisk walk in front of the Cathedral might attract some gypsies who are always there begging money from the faithful, and it was already late night and it was smartest to hurry home...
And her son's name was Dean. Dean came home later and couldn't explain to himself why he felt so horny, he had to watch porn magazines until late at night to calm down as if someone had injected lewd energy into his body...
The nameless devil returned with cries and howls back to the manger and back to his original, permanent form. A lifeless, idealess form, without soul, that is nothing...
"You know we can't get things in life like that?!" Zajdo muttered to himself, fatherly and calmly. "And now you will not have the energy you spent on this for our task, you have spent it!”
Krakarakakaus wanted to add something but decided to save energy after the look Zajdo gave him, focusing his mental state on preventing further ammunition, they both know that most of their energy goes to their inner conflicts anyway, so they lose regularly. Instead of addressing the nameless silhouette and potential conflict Krakarakakaus looked past the nameless silhouette, and as if speaking to a statue of St. Joseph, with the real message going to the nameless devil, said: "There is a time and a place, and a there is a way when we can get anything we want, don't forget that Dean, so we don't do all this for free and for nothing, don't you understand that?"
Zajdo was looking peacefully straight into the nameless one eyes: "It was revealed to people through that diary that this Polish nun wrote that a sinner must know that he will be punished in eternity in a terrible and indescribable way with that same organ with which he did evil. That's your punishment by God that you will bear forever and ever, nameless one, for committing adultery and rape in your lifetime, every time you will want to have a sexual delight your own palms will stab your genitals so you can't even masturbate when the wish comes to you in passion, is that frustrating for you my friend? Imagine, having that developed, profound wish for sexual intercourse as you have, thinking bout nothing else but sex in your life and the women, and to never ever have a chance to have just a bit of pleasure of that kind again, never and ever, I feel sorry for you my friend of misery..." With one truth that Maria was still unaware of, as the youngest of the three, Zajdo killed the very essence of his being, his very core, making him turn into a sad lifeless silhouette even more. He did directly the opposite of what Krakarakakaus wanted to do to make the nameless calm down and motivate him, this made Krakarakakaus angry...
"Why did you say this to him, Zajdo? For me and you, there is still a chance to enjoy, we are punished differently, but for him, it's over forever !" Why are you doing this Zajdo? Why? A minute ago you were contemplating our task. You will make him without energy even more!"
"I said it because I'm the worst devil out of the three of us, only a maniac would do it at this moment. I said it because I don't care for him. That was me in my lifetime and here I am again. My punishment is to rot knowing there is nobody I know that is worst than me and nobody is stronger than me, and there is nobody smarter than me, and yet, it is you, Krakarakakaus, that brought me here! And your punishment, mister Krakarakakaus, is to know that there is someone stronger than you and sooner or later I will get bored watching you. And when that happens it's over with you pleasuring me all the time and then begins your problems...
Zajdo finally sighed deeply, looked at little Jesus in the manger, and said it was time to start doing what they came here for. He looked again at the baby Jesus in the manger, then he took the hands of the other two devils, in his hand, and with the hands joined together said: "Let us pray! They knelt down, joined hands together, raised them high in the air, and began to pray, repedeatly chanting:"
“When you die, you will go to heaven, and you will enter the communion of the saints!
Know what that means?
Means you will never f*ck again!
There is no true joy in God, no youthful hair, no girlish breasts, no real happiness, no no...
No dance, no song, no no...
There are only shadows of souls...
Never go there, because once you go, you can never come back...
Don't go there, don't go, there's no real joy there. There are only shadows of souls that were once young...
Now they are forever old, like a great shadow that guides them...
The shadow fell on them forever, and closed their eyes, so that they would never see song and joy again...
Christ possessed!
Please don't go there, please...
There is no true joy in God, no youthful hair, no girlish breasts, no is there any real happiness, no no no, no no no…
You are in my heart Dean…
Success…“
I. ZAGREB IN THE MIST
Zagreb. 1968.
"According to the prophecy of Saint Brigit evil people will prevail in the year 1980. See how close we are today to these events mister Krznar, just another twelve years and we are there! Devil's agents act with fury! According to our information, coming from the Vatican secret services, young people will be forced to lose their virginity before marriage, such terrible pressure will be created, even through the media, that no one will be able to resist. Same as with abortion, evil will only rise, medical procedures will be turned into procedures that are life-threatening for young women, and eventually, for safety reasons, children will be killed in the abortions until their ninth month in the mother's womb, hospitals will slaughter small babies, they will wait for the child to be born first, so they will cruelly kill them at the moment when the babies are already out of the mother's womb in safety, they will crush their small heads with those forceps like teething! So if the child is already born but alive then this child is no longer an obstacle to the mother in any respect for life, is it? But no! That's where the story goes in reverse! These are truly devilish deeds!
We live in the wicked times, you understand Mr. Krznar, people's exposure to negative influences is very high, many things come into your head that would not normally enter your head, it is best not to watch television that broadcasts bad influences on young people, turn off the radio which conveys savage beats in the heart that stir up a rebellious spirit. You blame yourself too much for some things, you increase the weight of your sin too much, it is enough to say to yourself, "God, have mercy, I am here, I am your child and I want to go to heaven with my father, Jesus, come to my aid!"
The Spaniard was sitting on a narrow chair, next to the dying man's bed, in a position opposite to a small narrow window, from which his gaze shot over a great void, outside the monastery, and he constantly kept his gaze fixed in the direction of the window, never turning it in the direction of the dying man, to whom he was speaking. The window was a meter and a half away from him, and the entire monastery bedroom was only three and a half meters long and barely two meters wide, so in such a narrow space, the problem was to get out of the room, when passing the bed, and the chair had to be removed to do it. The walls were grey-white, damaged by moisture, which created, somewhere dark yellow spots, somewhere light yellow spots, everywhere on the wall, like written charters, and gave a clear smell to the room, magnifying the feeling of the claustrophobic narrowness of the room, but it could not be clearly recognized, whether the walls had lost their color due to moisture, from gray to white, or from white to gray, because everything was dotted with yellow spots. "To me, it's like a beautiful painting of art!" The Spaniard commented, while at one point he stared at a part of the wall. "It is an exaggeration of your guilt for what you are doing to yourself, for such things as disturbing you, it is enough to say that you have had lewd thoughts, and that is all. That is an exaggeration on your part. You are not a rapist, sir ... You are imagining... You should put yourself in order, pick up the rosary, find places on the day of prayer, put God first, if God is first, everything else is in the right place, you understand, Mr. Krznar?! That's how it should work for you in a normal order of things!"
The Spaniard calmly and routinely recited, telling the same story for the tenth time that week, five of them just for Mr. Krznar, a 96-year-old gentleman who was dying. Krznar was a regular member of the Catholic community who, through his constant attendance at Mass and the work of the church, was able to receive this posthumous protection through connections and five interventions in one week for the same person in fear and panic of his impending death. Then the sacrament of Holy Confession was performed, Holy Communion was performed, a speech of spiritual fraternal encouragement was performed, the same speech was performed once again at the personal request...
"Organized prayer of the rosary for the dying, organized this new prayer of this new rosary - this new form of devotion introduced from Poland this year - the Rosary of Divine Mercy coming to us from Krakow thanks to this promising and praised Archbishop of Krakow... Woytila ... I forgot his name. You know, mister Krznar, we did everything you needed to do in one week, you may not die at all this week, you don't look so bad, the doctors tell me that you have pre-dramatized your condition in the last couple of times. For years now, you are constantly dying, and finally, you have to die once, you are still ninety-six years old, that awaits us all once and for all, mister Krznar, that is the will of God... "
"Ra.... rap ... ra ..." The dying old man was gasping for air and was trying to catch his breath so that he could express his troubles again and what was bothering him in the depths of his soul. His efforts did not come to the approval of the priest Sanchez, a priest from Spain on temporary work in the city of Zagreb, which had lasted for ten years already. Sanchez was hungry and hurried to lunch: "Ohhhhh, not the rapings again, just not that!" He thought to himself as the old man rose more and more from the bed to a semi-sitting position...
"I want you to confess me, I need to let go of my soul!" Mister Krznar straightened up forward enough that he could now speak normally.
"But you have already confessed, Mr. Krznar, do you understand? You have confessed twice this week, also yesterday, you could not do anything new within ten hours, nailed to the bed here, at the age of ninety six, completely impaired in health, and I am a witness that you are a man of good will, and according to the teaching of the Catholic Church, all men of good will are saved, that is, such persons are not in the state of the mortal sin!”
"And where does it say that? Tell me this information, I must know!" retorted Krznar.
"It is written somewhere, Mr. Krznar, surely we would not say that without reason. You do not expect me to dig into the theological books and dogmas of our science, do you?"
"I take your word for it, but you my dear Alfonso, as a priest, know that I must confess once more what weighs upon my soul momentarily in order to let it go for good!" The Spaniard nodded reluctantly, looking down at the floor as he nervously ran his fingers over the rosary. He knew he could not turn him away, no matter how hard it was and no matter how futile his efforts, because the situation was that Mr. Krznar might be dying, you never know, and we will all be there one day and maybe he will be like this too. Then it will be difficult for all of us. "Okay, mister, I will hear your confession, if that is what you need for your soul to be at peace, I will hear your confession again every day if needed, but I will also tell you that your soul is not in danger, you are a collected man in a state of God's grace! " The Spaniard signaled with his hand that the confession could begin, gently lifting her into the air above the bed and pulling her towards him, signaling with his fingers for Mr. Krznar to open up to him in spirit...
"I repentantly confess all my sins, the last time I confessed was yesterday afternoon!"
The Spaniard ran his hand briefly over the front, middle bald part of his scalp. "All right, Mr. Krznar, we can skip the opening form, you can say what's on your mind..."
"I have imagined raping women all my life, that's what aroused me the most, in all possible combinations, whenever I masturbated I imagined raping women." Krznar took one deep breath and continued. "I masturbated every day all my life, and during the time when I went to church all the time, or even every day at some times, and during the time when it was not advisable to go to church here in Yugoslavia for political reasons, after the Second World War ended, when everything was still fresh!”
“I masturbated on all the women I met in my life, and every one I masturbated ended up in my fantasies where she was massively raped by groups of Chetniks, Yugoslav Partisans, Ustasha, Fascist Italians, Nazis, Cossacks, the Red Army, by every army that ever marched through this country, by everybody. Many of these poor women were raped by me in my imagination, but the vast majority were gang raped, as in war, just as these horrors took place in reality. I have always tried to imagine rape as realistically as possible, as it looks in reality, with the obligatory kidnapping of a woman, squealing and screaming and crying. The moaning and groaning of poor women, that’s what got me excited the most of all in my everyday war-rape fantasies.
"Okay, you have said enough! I understand what you are trying to tell me!" The Spaniard Sanchez made a sign that it was enough for old Krznar to confess his problem to him, although he had already confessed the same thing to him five or six times, he could not even count how many times old Mr. Krznar had confessed the same thing to him...
The old man began to coagulate his expression as if he were going to cry, but only for a moment, he was not even close to starting to cry, it was just his expression of uneasiness that Sanchez was suspending the further process of liberation of his soul. "Do you want to take everything away from me on my deathbed? Is it possible that you will deny me further confession, indispensable for the salvation of my soul?"
"On the contrary, I'm here to help you! "
"God has chosen me as a priest and sent me into your life to give you sure guidance, to make sure you are on the right path so that you do not fall into the trap of the devil who wants to disturb you and question the salvation of your soul! And I have to inform you that in your case it is an exaggeration of what you are doing! So you give too much importance to some of your fantasies that have no basis in reality. As far as I know, you did not rape anyone and did not kill anyone, right?"
"Yes, that's right, I'm not really, but..."
Sanchez interrupted Krznar's speech again with a wave of his hand. "You never planned to rape anyone in real life, did you? "
"No, I didn't, nor did I think of such a thing!"
"Well, you see, Mr. Krznar, if you haven't raped anyone in your life and if you haven't planned to rape anyone in your life then you have nothing to do with rape or rape planning in your life, do you, Mr. Krznar?"
"That's right, I didn't plan to rape anyone and I could never do that, I know myself well enough to know that I just couldn't!" Sanchez felt that the end of this confession about rape was approaching and the moment of his departure for lunch, he could almost feel in his stomach how his stomach greeted him as a sign of welcome for quickly maneuvering long fantasy descriptions of rape that he regularly listened to at Mr. Krznar's confessions...
"Oh, great, so we can conclude this; you have sinned lewd thoughts with your fantasies about raping various women. You have sinned only masturbation with your fantasies about rape, and you have sinned wanting married women. These are all grave sins but they are also common and characteristic of most people I meet in my craft, so to conclude, your fantasies about rape count only as of the sin of lewd thoughts and not as the sin of rape or say adultery..."
"But Jesus said that he who looks with lust at a woman has sinned adultery!"
Sanchez winced briefly and snapped. "Yes, you are right! The truth is, this sin you committed, it can also be counted as the sin of adultery, and your thoughts unclean!"
Krznar continued, "For if you only imagine sex with her, according to Jesus, that is the same as having it!"
Sanchez: "That's right!"
Krznar: "Well, I imagined raping women, which by Jesus' standards means it's the same as raping those women!"
Sanchez: "Well, I would not say that. I do not agree with that!"
Krznar: "And how can we find out what exactly Jesus meant in this particular case, or what he was thinking?"
Sanchez: "We do not know, and we will never know until we meet the good Lord in eternity, but I am not going to insist on asking him that particular question, maybe you could?!”
Krznar: "Now you are making fun of me!"
Sanchez: "Maybe I am making fun of you for two reasons, first because I do not understand you and second because you are exhausting! If I am to be honest, I am really hungry and would like to have lunch as soon as possible. With all due respect, we have confessed enough for today, even if your sin is fornication and worse than what you thought, the good God forgave you for that a long time ago! "
At that moment, Sanchez demonstratively got up and moved away from the bed, began to put on a scarf, but not yet a coat, giving the impression that he had something to say before leaving the room. As he wandered around the room, he approached the window of the monastery, where he managed to catch a brief glimpse of the square in front of the monastery and in front of the Zagrebs Cathedral. It was a foggy Zagreb morning, the fog had not lifted since the night before. One could hardly see anything…
They could not see the finger in front of their nose. only silhouettes in the distance. This Christmas in 1968. was without snow and it seemed as if the whole year would be without snow ...
"The sexual revolution in Paris, we were not good this year, neither God will help us anymore, nor send snow!" A gypsy woman was shouting in front of the cathedral, trying to encourage the passers-by in front of the church to give her some money...
Sanchez looked at the nativity scenes in front of the Cathedral and noticed that they were arranged differently than he had left them yesterday, the figures were placed differently and St. Joseph did not have his hat on his head, which he had invented especially for these nativity scenes. He could not see well through the mist, but it seemed to him that there were still some people sitting in the manger...
"Where were we?" Old Krznar interrupted him again with a thoughtful look out the window. "We stopped where I was going for lunch!" The Krznar now fired hastily from his cannon; "There's something else I have never confessed or told you!"
Sanchez: "Uffff, this must be another case of imaginary rape?!"
Krznar: "Yes, but this case is different from all the cases mentioned so far!"
Sanchez: "Believe it or not, I wonder what you are going to say?!"
Krznar: "Immediately after the war there was a young Ustasha military woman from the NDH youth machine!" Sanchez thought he was good at reading people, and now he sensed something that would really sound even worse...
"And what did you do to her?" He replied.
"I did not do anything to her, but this Ustasha girl was raped by the Yugoslav partisans at the end of the war. I knew she was raped and I masturbated every day on her and her rape event!"
Sanchez stepped away from the bed Krznar was lying on again and stared out the window.
He stared wordlessly out the window into the distance for a while, deliberately allowing silence to fill the room with its omnipotent presence. He willingly allowed the unease to enter in the awkward relationship between himself and his dying protégé.
Now Krznar was silent, he bowed his head, surrendered to shame, but he bowed his head down a little and at that moment he no longer pressed with questions and his demands. The silence suddenly crystallized so abruptly in all four corners of the room at that moment. The end of the sounds.
Now you could hear the ticking of the clock, but the smallest hand that indicates the seconds is constantly tapping with a slightly muffled voice that is impossible to imitate with a human mouth, because that sound is just too specific...
"I told you about this new devotion from Poland. We have prayed them before in the past few days, but I do not know to what extent the insights I tried to impart to you about these supposed apparitions of a certain sister from a Polish convent have captured your mind. I doubt if you have been listening to me all these days, for I have spoken to you quickly, Slaven. Your name is Slaven, is it not, Mr. Krznar?
"This devotion has been banned until this year. I mean, forbidden by the Church!" "Yes, I understand what you are saying, mister, I always forget your name priest although I call you by name frequently?" Krznar asked.
"Alfonso! Alfonso Sanchez!" Sanchez retorted.
"And now this year in Krakow they have lifted the ban on these proclamations of Heaven to this nun in the Polish convent, Faustina Kowalska, it was pronounced by this new Archbishop in Krakow - Wojtyla.
"Yes, I see!" Krznar trailed off his thoughts...
"And what I want to say to you is that in your case, I mean your conscience, which you cannot calm, perhaps the wisest thing is to try to pray the rosary properly and to put a picture of this rosary on your chest while you are lying on the bed or on the wall right next to you. I am not your judge, Mr. Krznar, if you wish, I will pray with you!"
"Yes, of course, thank you, young Mr. Alfonso!"
"Because you see, Mr. Krznar, it is Jesus himself, through St. Faustina, who is promising to every soul who prays that rosary at least once in their lifetime to give some grace of God at the end of their life, in the most important moment of all and that is our death. Jesus also promised that those souls who worship the image of Divine Mercy will not be lost! This is probably because these souls are called to the greatest attribute of God, and that is God's Mercy! You understand, Mr. Krznar, this is very important and great information in our world, in our church. and in our lives! Do you know that one should pray a lot every day for the dying?!"
Alfonso began to rummage through his belongings, and as he took the draft of the rosary out of his pocket, he read the documents delivered to the Kaptol in Zagreb, directly from Krakow, relating to the rosary, and said: "This is not just about you, it's about me also, see what Jesus revealed in the diary made by sister Faustina, so he gave him a semi-yellow paper, on which it was written:
"Souls, who become apostles and spreaders of my mercy, I will protect all their lives as a mother protects her newborn, and at the time of their death, I will not be a Judge for them but a Savior. At the hour of death, the soul has nothing to defend itself with but my mercy. Blessed is that soul, who all her life has endeavored to be under the protection of my mercy, for such a soul will not receive my justice. " I promise that the soul who worships this image will not be lost. Already in this world, I promise her victory over her enemies, especially at the hour of death. "
Sanchez took his rosary, dissolved a huge rosary with large grains, a long rosary from Spain, from the place called Garabandal, it fell over his whole legs in length, almost to the floor...
"This is how the rosary of Divine Mercy is prayed, Mr. Krznar!" At those first words, all the claustrophobia, the narrow space of the room, the smell of damp walls, and all the sources of condemning emotions, in the old heart of Slaven Krznar, were broken. Soon, the destruction created in the room, with the speed of lightning, spread further, through the narrow corridors of the monastery, as if it were traveling, for the Spaniard prayed loudly, and his voice traveled through the narrow corridors of the monastery, every ear heard it, and every heart felt it, throughout the monastery.
