Mark of the Baskerville Hound
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
one ceiling globe light was on, but another to just next to it were out and plaster was starting to separate from the fresco angelic ceiling again, after countless repairs, the aroma of Burt candles, incense, flowers, musty prayer books and decades of wood polish combined to produce a heady but comforting scent. The uneven wood floors snapped and squeaked with each footstep hidden in various corners and niches were saints to pray to for special favors. In the choir loft, a woman was practicing on the ill tuned organ, but she can never seem to get the notes to harmonize much less the tempo at different intervals in the music, a female voice would begin to strain a more accurate term than sing, which only further confirmed that the high pitch came from the very aged vocal cords. Father flaherty was in the confessional box while six elderly ladies stood in line, some whispering and others pinching rosary beads. They turned in exact unison as the front door creaked open and shut with a bang. A man stood there. He refused to look at the altar, where the red glow of the sanctuary lamp flickered. His thick, dark and gray hair looked as though he had been in a windstorm, and his beard had to be three days old, while his body was Tony and still somewhat solid, despite lost weight. His appearance was dated by a half open sports shirt and the t shirt beneath. Even worse, he needed to tuck one side of his shirt back into his khaki pants, ST warrant tennis shoes, finished his attire for a moment. The intruders seem to be sizing up the situation as he checked out all the statues. He had prayed to every one of them, but they were deaf or didn't seem the least bit interested in his petition. He started toward the altar, hesitated, turned and walked over to the confessional line. The women knew what street people were like, and he was not that. But even more unnerving was the thought. What if he is a mental case? As the yankee depths of his eyes began to look them over. One woman left the file and made for the door. Then he opened his mouth and smiled, and the atmosphere became ominous. Another woman left. Then all the ladies broke ranks and proceeded out the door. He swept back the faded velvet confessional curtain and a small boy on his knees let out a week yelp! The man grabbed the boy by his collar and yanked him out of the box. I forgive you! Get out! As the man knelt, he heard the boys running footsteps and the church door slam. He was alone with the priest. Bless me, father, for I have sinned. Oh, no, not again, Bill. A hint of irish brogue was just caught within the words. You can't keep doing this, my son. You simply must stop. Besides, you're running to my customers off. Get ahold of yourself, man. Give it to me, father. Give it to me. Tom you! Do You want me to beg? Okay? I'm begging. Can't you see, I have to have it. For God's sake! I can't do it. No one will not even the bishop. He forbids it. All I can do is pray and bless you, Bill. It's not good enough. Nothing is working. It's my only hope. I know my answer is final. I do not do exorcisms. I don't know how and I don't know of any priest who does. That's the stuff of the Middle Ages and movies now. Is that clear Bill? No, no, no. You're as worthless as his choice. The priest heard the kneeler creek and the drapes sweep open As the man left the box, he peeked through his curtain and he could see the man shaking hand as he tried to light a votive candle underneath a faded plaster statue of mary. Most of the votive glass containers were empty. The clergyman looked up at the crucifix just above the sliding screen, opening to the confessional box and spoke to it. Please let him leave. Then a loud snap and the smashing of glass were heard within the church. What the ****? Father flaherty through the half door back at the same time thrusting the curtain aside and emerged from the cubicle. How dare you? This is the Lord's house! Get out! Get out! Now, Bill Hughes