Sins Of The Fathers

"View the greatest horrors of all God's Creation, for merely a single tuppence!"

"See the man made of India rubber!"

"Witness a hideous monster born of the fires of Hell itself!"

"See the Succubus, evil creature of legend! 'Tis said she can, with a single thought, render herself invisible to the gaze of anyone pure of heart!"

"Gasp in horror at the monstrous Living Statue, torn from his temple in the mystic East by his lust for gold!"

*

"I wonder how many of them believe those signs... I'd wager all of them, brainless fools!"

The man grinned, his crooked yellow teeth glistening predatorily in the sickly light of the torches. "Allow me to introduce meself, young man: Phineas Q. Baxter, Esquire."

The boy's eyes widened at the name, and the man's grin spread even further.

"Aye, like it says on the signs."

The boy squirmed in the man's iron grip, but it was like being caught in the jaws of a man-trap: the more he tried to escape, the worse his situation became. One of Baxter's elegant hands reached expertly into the boy's top pocket and withdrew a large gold pocketwatch.

"If I hadn't caught ye trying to pick me pocket, I'd probably be trying to pick yours... This world is a funny old place don't you find, eh me lad?"

The boy nodded. Agreeing with whatever Baxter said was probably his best course of action. His captor nodded in return, and set the boy down on the ground once more. However, that iron grip remained on his shoulder.

"I like ye, lad."

Hope returned to the boy's heart, but Baxter's very next words dashed it against the rocks of despair once more.

"But my likin' ye still doesn't excuse your trying to rob me. I'm going to have to punish ye, make sure ye never do it again."

With that, the boy found himself being marched into one of the tents that he knew held nightmares beyond his imagination. Oh, how he wished he'd never come to this God-forsaken fairground...

"Now, boy. You know your ten commandments, do you not?"

The boy nodded as Baxter brought him to a stop in front of a huge cage, covered in a large black cloth. Something moved and snuffled within the cage: something large, something horrifying.

"What is the eighth commandment, boy?"

The boy licked his lips nervously. Father O'Hagan had drilled the commandments deep into all the boys at the workhouse, and yet for the life of him he could not remember. It was as if the thing that lurked behind the cloth had driven all thoughts not of it from his mind. Phineas Q. Baxter didn't seem to mind though.

"The eighth commandment, my lad, is that. Thou. Shalt. Not. Steal."

The thing behind the cloth grunted as Baxter raised his voice.

"They broke God's commandments in Sodom, did they not?"

The boy nodded.

"Those who lived in Sodom in those black days were not all destroyed for their sinfulness, however. Some of that city escaped, for they were God's chosen ones, who were to spread the word of what happened. Indeed, the sad tale of Lot and his wife is known by all, is it not?"

The thing behind the cloth snuffled and snarled. The boy felt a chill run through him as he nodded. Baxter threw a theatrical bow.

"Those who escaped the destruction of Sodom were spared, but their refusal to save their fellows from their sins cursed them through their issue instead!"

With that Baxter pulled back the cloth.

"Look upon this face and despair!"

The boy gasped, horror-struck. The monster behind the cloth was even more awful than he could ever have hoped to imagine. If you were to look at it from the ground upwards, you would have thought it to be a normal (if particularly thin) man. The only thing wrong with it until you looked at its face were its hands, which seemed to be all huge knuckles and ragged yellow nails.

Once you reached its face, however, it was a demon dragged up from Hell. The skin on the thing's face was so thin that the skull beneath was clearly visible. Its hair was white and straw-like, hanging lankly to shoulder-length, framing the monstrosity that would have been called a face in any other creature. It had no lips, merely a hideously distorted slash through which protruded huge fangs, from which saliva slowly dripped. Its breathing was encumbered by having such a horror of a mouth, and the boy came to understand the reason behind its earlier grunts and snorts.

But it was the thing's eyes that were the worst part. Its eyes were a pale blue, the same colour as a spring sky. They stared at the boy with such pain and sorrow behind them that he felt a stab of anguish in his heart.

"Such was the result of the sins of the Children of Sodom. God is kind, but He can also be cruel should the need arise." Baxter replaced the cloth over the horror in the cage and released his grip on the boy's shoulder. "Have you learned not to sin now, boy? Or need I show you more of the results of such crimes?"

The boy shook his head mutely, still not wanting to believe what he had seen. Baxter's grin became a beatific smile.

"Then you are free to go."

The boy needed no more telling, and bolted for the exit of the tent. Baxter grinned as he watched him go.

"There's one born every minute."

He twirled the chain of the locket he had stolen whilst the boy was transfixed by the monster round his little finger. He wouldn't have liked to guess, but the weight of it meant it was probably pure gold. The thing in the cage grunted. Baxter shrugged.

"You want us to be able to eat, don't you?"

The thing grunted again.

"He probably stole it himself, anyway, the filthy little street-rat."

The thing snuffled, and Baxter smiled.

"That you did. That child will never steal again as long as he lives."

One skeletal hand crept from under the cloth. Baxter took it in his, stroking it lovingly. The creature snuffled.

"Aye, of course you did well. You always do."

The hand slid back under the cloth. Baxter wiped his hands on his coat, and then went back out of the tent into the night. The monster behind the cloth grunted. If anyone had been there to hear, they would have heard a single word.

"Daddy..."