In The Sacristy

Mathias spent a troubled night and was plagued by dark premonitions throughout the day. He couldn't manage anything coherent and became a real nervous wreck. Finally, the hour of the eve mass arrived. The church was better attended than usual, which only increased his nervousness. He reeled off the liturgy mechanically and without heart and soul, which earned him more than one puzzled or annoyed glance. Hastily, he spoke the closing formula.

“May the Almighty God bestow His blessing upon you: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Go forth in the peace of Christ.”

And as was the tradition, the congregation responded. “Thanks be to God. Amen.”

Against all custom, however, he did not wait until the faithful had left the house of God, but hurried towards the sacristy while the last words had not quite faded away.

He hurriedly entered the small room which, despite its modest size, normally radiated a reverent atmosphere. It was lit by a wide arched window. The floor was made of worn stone tiles, as old as the building itself. The walls were plain and pale-colored plaster. A heavy oak cabinet with carved decorations completely filled one wall; the wood was so dark that it looked almost black. The chasubles, altar cloths and liturgical vessels were neatly stored in it. On the head wall hung a simple, old crucifix, whose painted figure of Christ had been venerated by countless generations.

But today, Father Mathias' gaze immediately fell on the stranger waiting in the middle of the room. She stood there like a statue, unnaturally calm and completely still, with an attitude that radiated both arrogance and scarcely suppressed amusement. Her clothes were simple, almost unremarkable - a long burgundy coat that reached down to her ankles and completely covered her. Her face was partly hidden in shadow, yet her eyes sparkled like two cold stars. She wore her hair pinned up, only a loose strand playing around her cheek, as if the wind had touched it - a wind that could not exist in this indoor environment.

The priest stood rooted to the spot, the feeling of trepidation growing with every breath. It was as if the woman had changed the room with her mere presence - the air was heavier, the shadows darker, and the familiar objects suddenly seemed alien and out of reach. She took her eyes off the crucifix, at which she had been gazing thoughtfully, and turned her head in its direction, as if she had only just realized that she was no longer alone.

“Father Mathias,” she said in a deep voice, dark and velvety, ”it's good to have you here.”

“Did I have a choice?” he hissed sarcastically.

She didn't let his rude retort upset her, walked slowly towards him and answered so quietly that he had to read the word from her lips rather than hear it.

“No.”

On the move, she opened her coat and showed her opponent that she wasn't wearing anything underneath. With a rolling shrug of her shoulders, she slipped it off backwards. Father Mathias wanted to avert his gaze, but couldn't help but look at her with fascination. For as her nakedness was revealed, she also transformed her appearance. The slim, dark-haired vamp became a blonde girl with baby fat in all the right places. At the same time, her expression changed from an ambiguous grin to a shy smile.

Mathias blinked in confusion. He knew the person who was suddenly standing in front of him. At least he recognized her face and the slightly chubby figure. Of course, he had never seen her undressed before. And yet, it was her. He stared at her and couldn't manage more than a stammer.

“Uh ... Eh ... Erika?”