Moloch Come!
ossia The Embrace
A Novel with a Soundtrack
by Harrison Gradwell Slater
"The Ritual" (Soundtrack)
by Apostolos Paraskevas
The Embrace CD: Music of Tchaikovsky

"They
shall not prosper, will not thrive....
Their sin too great from God to hide."
- Nostra Damus, 28 August 2012
Chapter Eleven
An Excerpt from Moloch
Come! with Soundtrack
Prague
Father Jerzy was stunned by the cacaphonic madness taking place in the Church of St. James, which had been set up as
a huge anatomical theater, to accommodate hundreds of the most famous surgeons and theologians in Europe. Watching from
above in the theatrical loges were erudite ecclesiastics and medical specialists from every corner of the Western Christian
world.
On the anatomical table was a woman with restraints on her wrists and ankles, gyrating
in a genuinely mad and perverse fashion, as two older priests tried desperately - and unsuccessfully - to keep her breasts
and other private parts covered.
"The devil has really outdone himself," Father Erynn
whispered to Jerzy. "Can you imagine the irony of all these old priests being forced to watch this? Many
of them have never seen a woman's body in their entire lives."
"What's happening
to her?" Jerzy asked.
Erynn reflected for a moment. "It seems to me like the
devil is having carnal relations with her, right here on the table."
Above their heads,
shadows of huge flocks of bats swooped down from one side of the frescoed ceilings to the other. Jerzy had difficulty
deciding if they were real, or just shadows.
"Don't pay attention to anything going
on here," Erynn said, shouting above the wild noises - sacred and profane. "Moloch is a liar. These
are tricks and illusions."
Chandeliers loaded with huge candles were causing bizarre lighting
effects throughout the church. The flames of tapered candles were suddenly popping off, then reigniting with bright
flares. Because of the changes in the light, each time Jerzy looked, the candles seemed to be a different color:
At first, they were traditional ivory; then the diabolical ebony of a Black Mass; then the shifting light made them a deep
mahogany red, dripping with what looked like thick clotted blood.
"I told you not to pay
attention," Father Erynn shouted, bolting Jerzy back into the real world. "We have to stop this exorcism."
There were so many experts packed into the church that Father Erynn found himself exasperated in
his attempts to get to the Archbishop reciting the first-century rite of exorcism in Aramaic. "What part is he
reading now?" Erynn shouted.
"I just heard the word, 'Moloch'," Jerzy
replied, pushing harder through the mad scene. "You know what that means."
Erynn
and Jerzy crossed themselves fervently. Shouting, "One, two, three!" the two priests hurled themselves violently
against the crowd, using the full weight of their bodies.
Suddenly, they found themselves lying on the floor, immediately in the center of the ceremony.
When the Archbishop spoke the Aramaic word, "Come," the entire church shook as all the windows blew outward into
the dark with a noise that resembled a punctured balloon racing around a room.
"Saints
preserve us," Erynn said, crossing himself and reverting back to the Irish brogue of his youth. "Don't
look."
Jerzy had yet to see what had happened, but instantly he regretted it.
"Oh, God," he said. "Oh, God."
The limp body of the woman on the table
resembled an inflatable doll that had lost all of its air. Her internal organs, moist and still throbbing, were lying
on the table beneath her: Pancreas, liver, lungs, intestines, heart, gall bladder. All had passed out of her body
cavity from between her legs and were as easily recognizable as the transparent charts of a grotesque anatomical textbook.