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[This is Part 4 of 4 in the 4 part short story The Voice of God. If you’re interested then you may want to read Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3 first.]

“How,” cried out Frank, “how can I help you?”

“You have to wake up,” replied God.

Frank considered this for a moment. He was pretty sure he wasn’t asleep. He decided to pinch himself. It hurt. He looked back up at God, hoping that something there would help him to understand what he had meant. While Frank was looking up, Jerome got quite close and suddenly one of those bursts of flame from Jerome’s nose had got a bit too close to Frank. The bottom of his habit was on fire.

Frank dropped to the floor and rolled around trying to put the fire out. Finally, after much rolling, it was out. Quite a bit of his habit was burned, as was a fair chunk of the hair on his right leg. He was now certain he was quite, quite awake. He called out to God, “what do you want me to do?”

But God was distracted, Jerome was trying very hard to set fire to God’s beard. But what didn’t seem to occur to Jerome was that God’s beard was made out of clouds so all he was doing was causing it to rain on the cloisters.

God, for a second, thought he had caught Jerome in between his hands, but Jerome squeezed through and shot straight up God’s nostril. God opened his mouth in shock and Jerome came flying out screaming, “Who’s the voice of God now”?

God, who had looked shocked moments before, suddenly looked cross and fed up all at the same time. His hand moved forward, he placed it underneath where Jerome was doing cartwheels, and he said, “Stop Jerome”. Jerome fell down into God’s hand – dead. God lowered his hand and very carefully placed Jerome down on the floor of the courtyard. He then turned to Frank.

Frank looked up into God’s eyes. Seeing God at rest for the first time, he realised that God was truly beautiful.

“What did you mean,” Frank said, “when you said you wanted me to wake up. I’m not asleep.”

“No, you’re not. You’re having a stroke.”

And with that God disappeared. The same moment, some of the oblates broke down the door and ran out to rescue Father Frank who was writhing on the floor.

[This is Part 3 of 4 in the 4 part short story The Voice of God. If you’re interested then you may want to read Part 1 and Part 2 first.]

As the rats wriggled through the gaps into the monastery buildings proper Frank couldn’t help but laugh. It wasn’t that he didn’t think this situation was difficult and unusual, it wasn’t that at all, he was laughing despite himself. He was laughing at the reactions from the oblates. Each time a rat got close to one of them you’d see him jump out of his skin.

“You are enjoying that aren’t you”, said the voice inside Frank’s head.

Frank turned to look at the dragon.

“No,” lied Frank.
“Don’t lie, boy.”
“I’m not a boy any more. I’m seventy years old.”
“You’re a boy compared to my experience.”
“I’m not enjoying any of this.”
“Why is there a smile on your face?” The dragon asked.
“Because God has arrived.”

This, thought Frank, was more like it. Clouds had streamed across the sky and combined together, out of the center of the cloud a giant face with a beard emerged. A hand was reaching down towards Jerome. But the dragon had seen it and had started flying with evasive maneuvers. Now each time God’s hand came close, Jerome would breath fire out of his nostrils causing God’s hand to pull back.

“Frank”, Gods voice rang out, “You’ll have to help me.”

[Tune in next Friday for Part 4]

[This is Part 2 of 4 in the 4 part short story The Voice of God. If you’re interested then you may want to read Part 1 first.]

A thought had been nagging at Frank for the last hour that this probably wasn’t God. It was, after all a giant red dragon, and was therefore likely to be the devil. But weirdly this didn’t disappoint Frank as much as you’d imagine, Frank was just pretty happy knowing that such a thing were possible. And if such things were possible, reasoned Frank, God would probably be along in a minute or two to sort everything out.

Frank had been thinking that God was going to pop in for almost an hour now and he hadn’t shown up, and it was starting to get really cold. Frank decided to stand up and speak.

“Hello?”
The response came back inside his head, “Yes?”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Jerome, don’t you remember me Frank?”
Suddenly Frank remembered. Jerome was a toy dragon he had had as a boy. Jerome had been a little stuffed toy dragon but this dragon hardly looked stuffed, this dragon looked like the real thing. He was also around the size of a double decker bus.
“I remember but…”
“Don’t worry about why for now Frank. We’re about to get some visitors.” Jerome looked down at Frank and added, “I’d stand on that bench if I were you”.

Frank quickly stood up and clambered on to the bench. He could here some kind of noise growing, a noise like water flowing really quickly. And then he saw them, coming out of the drains. Millions of black, vicious, fat rats tearing over the courtyard floor. Within seconds the whole courtyard was covered with them clambering over each other. Frank looked over to Jerome who was gently beating his wings and floating above it all.

The cloisters were becoming cold now as the light began to fade. Frank’s breath was visible as he sat on the bench thinking. He was absentmindedly fiddling with his rosary which was making a clicking noise each time the different parts clacked together. Frank was nervous. In fact he was cold and nervous. He’d never been convinced of a cassock in winter and sitting out in the cold like this was… Well mainly it was making him need to go to the toilet.

He looked back over his shoulder and he could see all of the other priests standing inside at the windows looking out at him. They looked warm in there. In fact Frank could see that the windows were misting up. A few of them were giving Frank encouraging signals, the odd thumbs up, a little wave. But most of them looked worried too. In fact they mainly looked worried and a bit excited.

Frank had always hoped to hear the voice of God. He’d kind of always expected it to appear at some point in his life. When he’d first heard about God as a boy something had clicked in his universe. The world made sense when it had happened and from then on he’d always known he had been called. But he had always hoped for something a little bit more direct. He’d actually always wanted something a bit more concrete. By the time he went to seminary school he’d started to think that perhaps he would have to prove himself worthy. That he’d have to dedicate himself to God before God would show himself. That, Frank realised, was faith.

At seminary Frank discovered that the way the church dealt with the lack of a speaking God was to teach the young priests that the warm feeling of comfort that had drawn them into the church was the voice of God. That God’s influence was more a feeling than a walk-on part. At that stage Frank’s hope that God would personally talk to him took a hit, but he was still young and he had hope. Over the years that hope had faded. Frank had been teaching seminary for thirty years now and had dispensed the same message. And yet the hope had never quite gone away.

And tonight God had spoken to Frank. God’s voice, sounding exactly as he’d imagined it would had boomed across his brain at dinner. It had told him to stand up and leave the table. And it had told him to walk out of the main building and into the cloisters. It asked him to take the key from the inside side of the door and lock the door from the outside. And then it asked Frank to walk to each of the doors around the cloisters and do the same. And when he had done that God asked Frank to sit down. To sit down where he was sitting now. And wait. To wait for God to reveal himself.

About twenty minutes ago God had arrived. And while Frank had always expected to hear God he’d never expected to see him. And he certainly hadn’t expected him to be a twenty foot long red dragon.