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chronicbeans · 2 years ago

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The Priest

IDK I was bored and decided to make a silly goofy reader insert with an OC for a random story. I think I'll call that random story "Love After Life". Silly goofy.

TW: Funeral Home Setting, Death, Delusional Thinking, Hallucinations, Immortality, Religious Imagery, Priests, Chronic Fatigue, Apathy, and Depression

You have always been intrigued by the strange priest who comes to the funeral home. You actually work as a funeral attendant, so you get the pleasure of meeting him often. He is just the oddest man you have ever seen. Especially in his mannerisms.

He seems to just wander aimlessly, as if he were a lost spirit, with no purpose. He'd visit, possibly to hold a funeral service, then just linger. The mortician who works in the morgue down in the basement of the funeral home often complains of his just... making his way in and complaining about something. She never says what it is the priest complains about, just that he complains about disturbing things.

Your mother, when you mentioned him at dinner one night, seemed to brighten up. She said something along the lines of "He has always been around here. Quite a strange fellow, isn't he? Strange, but kind. He does have a record of saying depressing things, though, so be careful. He might cause your spirits to go down."

You are currently arranging flowers around the casket of the latest funeral. Nobody has actually arrived, and it is sent to be in around a few hours. It is for a lady named Mariella, who passed away in her late forties. She had requested in her will to have her funeral in the local church, so you had to drive here and set everything up. You hear the door open, turning to see the priest. As always, he has arrived exceedingly early.

Dressed in a cassock, with a clerical collar wrapped tightly around his neck, alongside a rosary in his hand, he moves with the silence of a ghost to a pew. He sits down, staring straight ahead. His hair is dark brown, and his skin seems to be an almond color, or something along those lines. Despite this, he looks a bit paler than usual, as well as sickly or fatigued. His eyes also seem pale as they wander around the room, before landing on you. The dark bags beneath them seem to accentuate their paleness, giving them an eerie leer.

Despite this, he seems rather young to be a priest. That isn't to say that there aren't young priests. It is just that in the Catholic Church, which is the branch he preaches for, the clergymen tend to be older. If you had to guess, he seems to be in his mid thirties to early forties at the most. It is a bit hard to tell with the blue mask covering the lower half of his face. Wait...

You open your mouth, saying "Good evening, Father. I hate to sound rude, but are you sick? I umm..." He tilts his head, seemingly shocked that you talked to him. Then, he shakes his head as he says "No... I am fine. Thank you for asking, Mr./Ms./Mrs./Mx. ...?" "(L/N). You can just call me (Y/N)." He slowly nods his head.

Everything grows silent, again. You check your watch, noticing that there is still some time before the funeral is scheduled to begin. Nobody has arrived, yet, either. "Why did you ask if I was sick? Do I... Is it that noticable?" You look over to him. A bit confused by the question, but not exactly shocked. That mask on his face is pretty noticable... "The mask? Yeah, it is-" "No... The smell..." You raise an eyebrow "What smell?" You sniff the air, smelling nothing but the flowers you have arranged for the funeral, alongside the odd smell every old building, like the church, seems to have.

The priest grows quiet, again, before saying "I... forget I said anything..." Then, he mutters something to himself, but it is too muffled by his mask for you to hear. You slowly begin to realize what your mother meant by him being a bit eccentric. He seems to take everything a bit strangely, or too close to heart. Maybe he just has a messed up sense of smell or something? You can understand having an oversensitive nose. Oh, GOD. What if he thinks you think he smells bad or something? Now you gotta apologize...

"Hey, I am sorry if I seemed rude-" "How do you not smell it? God... I smell awful! Nobody seems to notice it..." He presses his hands against his mask, as if to make sure it is secure. The blue material crinkles against his hands, his usually half-lidded, fatigue filled eyes now wide. His dark eyebrows crinkle upward, a look of worry on his face. "I look awful, too..."

You, at this point, are highly concerned for him. All you did was ask if he was sick! Now he is speaking about... an odd smell and looking awful? You have sent him into a spiral! You look back to the arrangement, deciding that it looks okay enough to step back and console him. You are more well-versed in consoling grieving people, but this shouldn't be that different, right? You hope so, at least.

You sit next to him, which causes him to flinch and stare at you. His eyes look so... milky... now that you see them up close. He holds his hands up, signalling for you to move back a bit. You scoot a bit further away as he says "Stay back... don't look at my face. It's disgusting. I smell disgusting. I shouldn't... I shouldn't be here..." You swallow thickly, before saying "You don't look or smell disgusting! You look and smell perfectly fine!" You immediately shut up, thinking to yourself about how awful that reply was.

He seems to think the same way, too, as he looks even more distressed. He clutches his hair in his hands, pulling on it in distress as he cries out "Why does everyone say that?! Why can't they... why don't they notice it! Why doesn't the mortician notice it?" You are immediately intrigued. You look down at your watch. About an hour left. As much as you want to know the juicy details, you gotta calm him down quickly. "Hey... I am clearly not helping. What calms you down, Father? Do you want to vent your frustration to me? What do you do?"

He looks around, before standing and walking over to the casket. He just stares at it, holding his shaking hands up to his mask. His brown hair is frizzy from how he was clutching it in his hands before. You decide to stand, but keep your distance. "What are you doing?"

He looks back at you, stammering "I... I like to be with the others when I am distressed. Is that too much for this old man to ask?" You chuckle, shaking your head "You aren't that old. Also, might I ask what you mean by the others?"

"I'm dead."

You freeze up. You have no idea how to respond to those words. You hesitate, before asking "So... the smell you are speaking of...?" He looks around, having seemingly calmed down a bit. He continues "I've been decaying, yes. Do you... do you want to see it? You seem calm enough to trust. Most say I am crazy when I tell them that I am dead."

You fidget with your fingers, before nodding. He beckons you over, to which you approach him. He takes one last peek around. Your stomach is churning. What will it look like? Maggots? Rotting, necrotic flesh? Will his lips have turned black from rot and fallen off? He begins removing his mask, revealing...

Nothing. He looks perfectly fine. A bit handsome for a priest, actually. His lips are soft looking, his face is either clean shaven, or he just doesn't grow facial hair. Either way, his tan skin looks smooth, if you discount the pale, sickly tone of it. You hesitate, knowing how badly he reacted the last time you mentioned not noticing the strange smell he spoke of, but you simply cannot lie to him. He is a priest, after all, and lying is a sin. Maybe a compliment will lift his spirits or soften the blow?

"I am so sorry... I don't see anything. You look handsome, by the way." You immediately want to slap yourself, realizing what you just said. This man thinks he's dead and decaying, and you just said he looks handsome! That was probably the WORST thing you could've said!

He recoils, his eyes glaring down with a mixture of disgust, horror, and just the tiniest hint of flattery. "Disgusting! How could you say that?! Should i call the police-" "No, no! I meant that I just don't see any decay! You... you look like a normal man. I am sure you have heard that countless times, but it is true. Calm down. I'm not into that sort of thing." He relaxes again, nodding. "I apologize..." "No! No, no worries. I immediately realized what I said was stupid after I said it! Haha!"

Now everything is awkward... oh, (Y/N), why do you have to make everything awkward? He is just standing there, staring blankly ahead. The sounds of footsteps approaching the doors begins, causing him to put his mask back over his face. Without another word, the two of you get in your places.

...

The service goes by without a hitch. You decide, to save yourself the embarrassment, to just go to your car and let the mourners linger. However, much to your dismay, the priest approaches you and begins to talk.

"Hello... Is there anything I could do to make up for my poor reaction to your compliment. I understand that you are aware of why I reacted that way, but it was still unacceptable for me to have such a sudden outburst. You were just trying to be kind to me and comfort me."

You begin fidgeting, before asking "I still don't know your name, Father. I have told you mine, so it would only be fair if I know yours." He nods. "Such an odd request. I have always found you a bit odd... If that is what you want, however, I will oblige. My name is Claire Cotard. If I see you around, I will see if I can get you to accept another form of apology. Just telling you my name doesn't seem fair." "Really, you don't have to-"

Father Cotard leaves before you can finish your sentence. Really, you don't need anything else. It wasn't like he actually ended up calling the cops or anything. It was completely reasonable, too, considering the situation. Plus, now that you know his name, you can ask around about him.

In fact, you can even check the wall! The church, with how old it is, has a lot of history. It was even around during the witch trials in the area. Sure, this place wasn't a Catholic Church back then, but it still has that on the wall dedicated to telling the church's history. On that wall is a list of every priest who has worked here, listed by each individual year. Father Cotard works here, so you can see how long he has been doing so.

You sneak your way to the history wall, looking over to the metal plaques of the clergymen's names. The etching is small, due to how many names are crammed into each one. However, you can make out Father Cotard's name on the years...

No, wait... that must be wrong. He is all the way back on the plaque for the 1600s! That is definitely wrong... He is also on the ones for the 1700s, 1800s, and the 1900s! He is on every plaque! It doesn't even say "Father Claire Cotard II" or "Father Claire Cotard III". Just "Father Claire Cotard". So, unless there happens to be a couple other people with the same name, there is something fishy going on here.

Looking over to the portraits, you are even more confused. There is one of a man who looks EXACTLY like him, painted in 1639, which is labeled as a reverend during the witch trials. There is a photo from 1922, with a man who also looks like him. Then there is a painting of a lady, dressed in clothing straight out of the 1800s, confessing her sins to yet another man who looks like him.

It is all too much to take in. You go home for the day, deciding to ask your family about him. You step through the front door, taking a quick shower. You try to relax, but it isn't really helping. Getting changed into your casual clothes, you head downstairs for dinner. To your luck, your father is already sitting there. Yeah, some say it is weird to be living with your parents as an adult, much less an adult with a career plan... But they can't work, don't have any income, and already spent all their retirement money. You want to make sure they are okay.

He laughs, saying "We ordered takeout tonight, sport! Hope you don't mind!" You weakly nod, before asking "Hey... do you know anything about Father Cotard? I saw him at work today, and got to talk to him. He seems mysterious." Your father shifts in his seat, thinking to himself, before smirking coyly and teasing "You better not be getting a crush on him, sport! He's a clergyman, and a Catholic one, at that!"

You groan in frustration "Dad, I am being serious! Also, that's gross... I barely even know him!" He laughs heartily "I know! I know! I just couldn't help but tease you, sweetie. You never ask about men, women, other people in general. Let me wrack my brain for a moment." He looks down at his hands, which he has neatly placed on the kitchen table.

After a brief moment, he says "I can't think of anything. You know what I do wanna know, though? Whatever the hell he is using to look so young. He's been working as a priest ever since I was a kid, yet he looks not a day over 45. Meanwhile, my old self has got a bald head, with the only remaining dregs of hair left being grey and thin!" He then laughs, again, seemingly joyous. "That's another reason why you shouldn't be crushing on him! He's older than your papa!" "DAD I SWEAR TO GOD-!"

"Dinner's here! What is it you two are talking about?" Your mother sits down, placing a box of pizza on the table. "Well, honey, our little (Y/N) here was asking about Father Cotard!" "And dad keeps making jokes about me having a crush on him. Which I DON'T. I don't even know him that well! I just spoke to him for the first time today."

Your mother giggles "You two, always bickering. Well, let me see... All I really know is that he often wears a face mask, goes to your funeral home often, and... well, he never really seems to age. He also seems to suffer from chronic fatigue. I have actually seen him using a wheelchair, sometimes. When I asked, he simply said he was too exhausted to stand and that his medication wasn't refilled. Apparently, it was due to "inaccurate data" on his medical record? Either way, his pharmacy and insurance said no to the prescription."

Your dad looks over to her "You actually TALKED to the creep? He walks around like a zombie, and you actually APPROACHED HIM? Wow... Look, I know he has that chronic fatigue, which might contribute to his demeanor. I won't fault him for that... but you can be fatigued and have some life in your eyes, right? Like... a spark of joy. You can even be depressed and have those small sparks of life and joy and just... Anything other than that empty look he has."

You stay silent, looking over to your mom. She sighs, nodding "I know, dear. I just think he has problems. Problems being depression. Not just a small little bout of it. Maybe something like melancholic depression. That type hits pretty hard. You feel fatigued, can't enjoy activities... You have troubles sleeping and feel hopeless. I worry for him... If that is true, he may be close to thinking about..." "Dear, don't think about it too hard. I am sure he will be fine." Your mother grows quiet.

At this point, the air is heavy. You have already finished your pizza. You silently get up and get ready for bed. You toss and turn, hoping for sleep, but what your mother said is worrying you. You didn't have the guts to tell either of them about what he said... How delusional he seems to be. The possible hallucinations he is having. What sort of man believes he is dead? Strangest is how he doesn't seem to age... What if that really was him in those pictures?

You want to find out. You need to find out.

#original story #my story #My OCs #my ocs are my babies #reader insert #Idek what i am doing #Could be romantic or platonic idc lol #Love After Life

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