The Devils of D-Day
“I took it unsteadily, and said, ‘Thank you, father. That’s very kind.’ He waved his hand as if to say not at all, not at all; and then sat his baggy ancient body in an armchair opposite, and opened up his snuff box.
‘So you went to hear the voices,’ he said, taking a pinch of ground tobacco.
I nodded.
‘You look, forgive me for saying so, as if they alarmed you.’ ‘Not them. It.’ Father Anton snorted, sneezed, and blew his nose like the Trump of Doom. Then he said: ‘Demons can be either. One demon can be them, or it, or whatever they please.
A demon is a host of evils.’ I reached across to the small cherrywood sidetable and picked up my tape-recorder.
‘Whatever it is, father, it’s here, on tape, and it’s an it. One infernal it.’ ‘You recorded it? You mean, you did actually hear it?’ The old priest’s expression, which had been one of patient but not altogether unkind indulgence, subtly darkened and changed. He knew the voice or voices were real, because he had been to the tank himself an...d heard them.MoreLess
‘So you went to hear the voices,’ he said, taking a pinch of ground tobacco.
I nodded.
‘You look, forgive me for saying so, as if they alarmed you.’ ‘Not them. It.’ Father Anton snorted, sneezed, and blew his nose like the Trump of Doom. Then he said: ‘Demons can be either. One demon can be them, or it, or whatever they please.
A demon is a host of evils.’ I reached across to the small cherrywood sidetable and picked up my tape-recorder.
‘Whatever it is, father, it’s here, on tape, and it’s an it. One infernal it.’ ‘You recorded it? You mean, you did actually hear it?’ The old priest’s expression, which had been one of patient but not altogether unkind indulgence, subtly darkened and changed. He knew the voice or voices were real, because he had been to the tank himself an...d heard them.MoreLess
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