#micah

Micah pursues his groceries, occasionally caressing the heads of some children running to him in awe, following him around like a celebrity. 

He is a celebrity here, and Micah is deeply respected in this town. People come to him for his blessing, for his forgiveness, and advice. They come lost and destroyed but after a discussion with him, they leave the monastery rebuilt, new, serene... 

People look up to him each time they are in trouble and follows blindly his opinion. 

People were skeptical about this new technology called Phone Marty and some protested the installation of one in the town hall, descending the streets with signs, screaming that this object would bring decadence and destruction to the town. Micah intervened in favor of it and even agreed to put on a show to call the Bishop of the region in front of a public with a smile. He had a small speech arguing that this was the future and the town should follow, that he saw no ill in this piece of technology and the townies had nothing to fear about it. 

Micah was not in the least surprised of the townies reaction. He chosed this city for a very specific reason after all. 

The city is isolated between steep mountains and the first train station of the town is very difficult to access and was built 80 years later compared to the rest of the country. This city is like a bubble, blocked in the past and Micah saw an opportunity here. 

To rule unquestioned on a small bastion. 

With careful planning and politics, the young Priest carved himself a place in the town and gained immense popularity and influence over the population ruled by old rigid traditions. 

Micah calculates his move carefully, even going against the Church’s wishes sometimes to base his power over the entire town. He fought for mandatory vaccines for children, getting vaccinated himself as an example, and helped eradicate the smallpox from the town that took so many lives before.  

He fought for a mixed school for adolescents, choosing to trust them while their parents thought it would pervert an entire generation and the nation was distrustful of the process. He held the class in an isolated room of the Monastery, welcoming for free any young who trusted the project, allowing the young girls and boys to meet organically while the town slowly lost population due to low birth rates. 

His project was fruitful.  

A larger range of young earned their diploma and married soon after with their school sweetheart, bringing new babies to the town. The Mayor who did not believe in his idea and fought against him had to come personally to present his excuses and ask to work together for the betterment of the town 

Micah accepted as he won what he wanted. 

Power. 

Power to reign supreme over the town. 

Any new decision needed the young Father’s approval, any new Mayor needed his support to win. Micah decided what to do with the town, whom to accept and whom to ban from the town, which new law to install, and which one to repel. 

Micah could model the town at his will, making it his personal kingdom and Eden’s garden for his personal enjoyment. People believed any word he said and he earned that power. People followed his lead like a dog obeys its Master and he used this power wisely. 

Micah had everything to be happy. 

Or what he thought he needed to have to be happy... 

But as the years passed by, a growing hole appeared in his soul, devouring any sentiment he had in his heart. He felt dissatisfied and like something crucial was missing in his life. 

Until recently, that is! 

Until... 

“Father Micah?” A young woman’s voice pulls him out of his reverie before a stall. 

“Yes young Lady?” He politely smiles at her. 

She blushes hard and searches for something in her pockets, taking out an envelope that she hands him, the face bright red. He considers it for a second before taking it gently. The envelope smells like rose and lavender. 

Perfume cost a fortune in this day and age but this young woman still used it on her letter for him. 

She bows to him, still red, and runs away to a circle of other young women waiting for her in the distance. Surely her group of friends. 

Micah observes the envelope of a delicate pinkish color. 

A love letter. 

Another one. 

He turns away from the girls and crumples it in his fist, throwing it away as he leaves the Market for the Monastery. 

He has no use for this love or any love that came before it. 

Micah crosses the town until a paper pinned on a pole catches his attention. On it, the portrait of a young woman he knows very well is drawn, offering a large sum of money for her capture. 

“We still did not catch that witch?” Someone asks behind him. 

He turns to an old man, taking support on a cane to stand still. 

“The sheriff did not warn me that they did at least.” Micah explains, taking the paper in his delicate hand “So young... Who could have known such a monster was acting among us...” 

“That angel of death! I hope she burns in hell!” The old man spit on the ground. 

“This is a terrible thought, sir. Such desire could bring you down with her, be careful.” He warns. 

The old man sniffs, but ultimately nods. 

“Did we find new victims?” He asks. 

“I cannot reveal such information, sir. The Sheriff trusts me with it.” Micah retorts gently  

“You are the light of this town, Father. You should not let us in the dark like that, if even you start having secrets we are done for. Surely you know something!” The old man begs. 

Micah pretends to look around them before leaning to the ear of the old man and starts whipsering. 

“We think a recent death in the Monastery hospital might be due to poisoning...” 

“Hell! She found her way in the Monastery hopsital?! This witch has no limits! She deconsecrates the church and the souls of the victims!” The old man rages. 

Micah presses his finger on his lips. 

“Of course, this info is strictly confidential for the investigation. I would not want it to spread in the town and cause a mass hysteria, can I trust you?” 

The old man’s eyes start glimming mischeviously. 

“I will be as mute as a tomb, Father.” 

“Good. Go now, I must prepare for the Mass tonight.” Micah politely enjoins. 

“Of course father. Another mass to pray for her victims’ souls?” 

“I will hold as much as it is needed. Until we capture and judge her for her deed.” 

The old man nod and walk away. 

Micah smiles to himself. 

The old man lost three grandkids to that woman and his hate for her is deep. 

His hate for you... 

Of course, he is going to spread the word to the town, enraging the spirits even more, starting a new witch hunt in the Mountains and the forests nearby. 

Micah tears your poster off the pole and walks to the Monastery. He crosses it to gain his apartment, a small house in the garden of the Monastery, isolated and peaceful. 

His castle in his kingdom. 

He opens the door and locks it behind him immediately. 

“Rosebud? (Y/n)? I am home.” He announces. 

You open a door and come running into his arms, pressing you against his taller frame. 

“Father Micah...!” 

“Did anyone see you?” He investigate. 

“No! I remained hidden like you ordered me to.” 

“Good. You must not leave this house under any pretenses, you are not safe outside.” 

You part from him, sighing. 

“I know Father, I know... Did you talk to the Sheriff?” 

“He is busy with a new case, unfortunately.” He explains, putting down the groceries on the table, “I will plead your case do not worry. But the spirits are boiling and vengeful, a new victim has been discovered.” 

“I did not kill them! I did not kill anyone! You know that, Micah, don’t you?!” You beg with eyes wet with tears threatening to spill. 

“I believe you, (Y/n). I do. But you know how the town is, you know how they think. It will be hard to clear your name of any suspicion.” 

You lower your head defeated. 

“I see...” 

“I am with you in this trial, my child.” He takes your shoulder in his hand to squeeze it gently, a reassuring smile on his face. 

“I know... Thank God at least you believe me... If you did not, I do not know what I would have done...” You sob, “I would be lost forever...” 

“Dry your tears, my darling. I am working on it, do not fret.” He promises, pulling you to him to die his nose in your hair. 

You smell delectable, just as he loves. 

You press your feminine curves against his body in a desperate search for support, wiping a tear away. 

Micah smiles to himself again. 

Poor little lamb... So lost and fragile. 

So adorable 

So intoxicating 

His darling 

His rosebud. 

His... 

He cups your cheek to make you look at him. 

“Come on now. I must prepare for the evening Mass, do you need anything?” 

“Will you be gone for long?” You grab his hand desperately. 

“No. 2 hours at most, as always.” 

“Come back to me soon...” You beg, “I feel so alone in here.” 

“I promise, my darling.” And he kisses your forehead tenderly. 

Not your lips. 

Not yet... 

This is for later 

For when you will totally be at his mercy, under his power. 

Then he will break his vows and delight himself of your soul and body. 

He will eat you up 

Devour you until you beg for his mercy 

And maybe he will stop 

Or maybe not 

He is a capricious man and he is demanding. 

You did not know what kind of hell you entered when you got down that wagon train, when you entered that secluded town as an outsider... 

But you are Micah’s hell 

His obsession 

His rosebud 

His darling 

He will have you, wether you like it or not 

After all he reigns supreme. 

“I know what you’ve been doing…”, your voice attempted to emulate confidence, but the priest’s presence pulsated eerily around you. His towering form hovered dangerously above you, as you attempted to stand your ground.

“Oh? You do?”, Micah’s voice remained collected, his hands hiding in his sleeves. You couldn’t see how intensely his fingers were gripping into each other. Seeing you always made him woozy. The permanent smile etched across his visage, as he tilted his head slightly.

“Illuminate me. What have you surmised, Y/N?”, the silky tone invaded your ears. He had been doing many things, which were you referencing?

“That stuff you’ve been giving me. You’ve been lacing it with something. Everything…fogs and I wake up knowing you-“

The sudden appearance of his dark eyes piercing through the light lashes made you freeze. The voids halted any form of strength you previously mustered. Your body quaked. Surely, he could see how harshly your legs were trembling.

“My, my…”

He moved forward slowly, cornering you in the prickly rose bushes he tended to. You thought about trying to push him aside, but your limbs were so weak you could barely stand. Additionally, you feared what he would do if you attempted an escape.

“What a fascinating theory…” He lowered his face down to you, the dead eyes almost level with your own.

“A harsh accusation. Why would I do such a thing when…”

The pale arm slid out from his sleeve. His icy hand trailed up your neck, settling on your cheek and gripping the side of your face. The priest pulled your face harshly towards his own, his lips locking into yours as he pushed his tongue violently into your mouth. Your own tried to retreat back into your throat, to no avail. No matter how much you winced, Micah’s hold on your face was firm. The more you resisted, the harder his grip and kiss became.

He released from you, as you gasped for breath, tears stinging your eyes. Micah leered, triumphantly.

“…I can have what I want without such methods.”

Your lip quivered. The priest still held your face in place, remaining close to you. Your suspicions confirmed, you were now trapped. You had been careless: you shouldn’t have confronted him alone.

“You will join me in my office. Such slander needs to be punished appropriately.”

Micah released his hold on your face and put his hand on your back, steering you towards the church. Your body obeyed, sinking deeper into permanent panic and your limbs ignoring your internal screams to bolt.

Micah smiled to himself, feeling the tremble in your vibrating spine.

If breaking you was the way to keep you, he would do so with ease.

The dark eyes stared down at you, as he guided you to his office door.

-----

Your back faced the door. The thud of it made the hair on the back on your neck twitch. The peaceful jingling of a set of keys juxtaposed with the harsh thrust into the keyhole, while the clanging of the old lock reverberated in your spine.

You shouldn’t have confronted him. Especially not alone.

“Now,” Micah’s voice remained steady and patient, as you heard it grow slightly louder while he turned towards you. “What shall we do with you?”

You daren’t turn around. You tried to stifle your anxious gulp, but you couldn’t control its tremoring volume. You felt like you were miles away in a deep, uncanny ocean and you were barely holding yourself over water.

He approached you slowly. Every step of his caused your breathing to quicken slightly more. You couldn’t know what would happen in here, with the doors locked and any cry for help reaching no one. Everyone was outside doing chores. You were alone. With him. The shark circling you, while you're doomed to sink.

You couldn’t really tell if he was angry or if he just liked playing with his meal.

His pace quickened suddenly and you felt his right hand swoop under your arm, grabbing your chin from behind, while his left wrapped around your waist. He pressed himself into you, while forcing your head back. It wasn’t a knife stabbing your lower back, but it frightened you just as much.

You were met with lifeless, famished eyes and an ungodly smile. Predator finding prey, after months of fasting.

“I think an endurance lesson will do the trick. A fair punishment for your … accusation.” As he spoke, his index finger dug into your cheek. “You will give your all in this, won’t you, darling?”

You felt your head nod, betraying your instincts.

His smile grew, making his eyes squint slightly. But the voids kept you in his focus.

All you can do now is sink with him.

Unblinking, he started unbuttoning your blouse. Before you knew it, the miniscule protection you had draped down your shoulders.

Micah's cold, long fingers traced up your soft belly and lingered on your exposed sternum. His hand pivoted there, seemingly unable to decide which direction to go next. It made your skin shiver all over and you let out an involuntary moan.

You hated how much his indecision activated something in you. It felt so wrong, but the priest had this aura that made him both terrifying and exceptionally alluring. Despite your mind screaming to run away, you body was disloyal to your morals.

His right hand still held your head back, forcing you to stare at his hungry face that enjoyed the view a bit too much. Towering over you, he tilted his head as your anticipation grew.

"What's this? Adding impatience to the list, are we?" You could feel how much he was loving your body's reaction, but his voice remained collected.

While speaking, his hand barely grazed your right breast. You shuddered, half from his freezing touch and half from suppressed desire.

You didn't know how, but his smile grew even bigger than before.

"Repentance requires patience."

The priest's face lowered down to yours, you felt yourself sink deeper into the depths, his teeth pulling you down with him. His hand finally grabbed your breast fully, squeezing it harshly.

A few days later, Micah goes out to the church's garden to do some tending. It’s too early to tell how well the new flowers have taken to the soil so he wants to put a little extra effort into their care. When he arrives in the garden, he sees someone there crouching down by the flowers. It is the young woman with the wheelbarrow.

“Ah, it’s you,” Micah says, making his presence known.

The woman is standing up and facing Micah in seconds. Her eyes are wide and her expression bashful.

"Uh, hi?" she says while she waves to Micah.

"What business do you have here in the church’s garden?" Micah questions her.

"Uhp! W-well... I heard this building had a garden and I wanted to see it for myself," she answers after a moment's hesitation. “If I’m trespassing— I probably am, what with the wall…” Her face is turning bright red. “Sorry.”

Micah chuckles. "The church welcomes visitors of all kinds, not only those living within the convent or those of the faith," he explains with a gentle smile. "If you wish to visit the garden every now and again, you are more than free to do so."

"Really?" A smile breaks out across her face. She faces the flowers and bushes again. "Hopefully my family's flowers can bloom just as magnificently."

"If your family's business is to sell flowers, then the best of luck to you in cultivating them," Micah remarks.

For a moment, Micah wonders why he is bothering with this conversation with this woman who seems to not even understand what the church is. But the smile on the woman's face during the brief talk... The sparkle in her eyes as she glances around at the garden... And the way she spoke with Micah, not with any sense of reverence but still showing a gentle cordiality...

Her presence is... it's not a bother at least.

.....

Micah begins to see her more often.

It’s not every day Micah sees her, but she visits often enough that the nuns and acolytes start to recognize her. Early on, the woman remains within the garden. She approaches each flower, bush, tree with such a delicate hand and truly admires Micah’s work in bringing the garden to life. She speaks words of adoration to them like they’re her beloved children. The woman and Micah exchange their experiences with raising plants. Given her profession being the selling of flowers - and herbs, as Micah comes to learn - it comes as no surprise that she takes gardening seriously. She is almost as meticulous as Micah when it comes to the topic.

Almost.

The woman has an air of fancifulness to her methods. She talks of making the plants “happy” and “encouraging” them. She apologizes when she has to trim away diseased parts of a flower. She never disposes of any plant that doesn't grow as quickly or as fruitfully as its peers but instead gives them more time and attention until they flourish. The woman sees her own garden not as specimens to cultivate and prune away as she sees fit, but as individuals to care for as they came into their own.

Micah finds himself amused by how different her view is from his.

The way he sees it, plants are like humans. It is true that flowers can grow in the wild and people can take care of themselves well enough, but without proper guidance and diligent oversight, neither can truly prosper. If human hands don't bring water regularly or cut away parts afflicted with disease, then plants would wither and die in no time. Humans languish in ignorance and let themselves be led astray by temptations. And if one, plant or human alike, fails to meet the expectations set by those around them then they have no right to take space from those more deserving and are removed.

Their ways of thinking are different.

But Micah finds himself wanting to listen to the woman go on about how any flower, any person, can thrive if shown enough love. Her view is so simple... Naive... Pure...

Yet it never leaves Micah's head.

…..

Micah entertains the woman's presence at the church each time she visits the garden. And he uses her to entertain himself. Asking questions and learning more. He tries to piece together what about her he feels so drawn to.

Micah learns that the woman had never been familiarized with the church. She'd met the odd clergyman while on the road but faith, scriptures, and the like were all foreign to her. When Micah explains it all, she apologizes profusely for her lack of respect towards him.

The woman has a beauty and purity to her that was unlearned, something that came naturally to her.

The woman tells Micah that her favorite plant is the ivy. An ironic choice to say the least.

"I didn't realize it could mean so much. I just kind of liked it because no matter the time of year, some form of ivy was there for me to find," she says while helping Micah water the garden one day. "But knowing they mean something to your church makes me love them more."

She is surprisingly impressionable. Taking almost anything she hears to heart. Doing so is sure to hurt her if she's not careful who she listens to.

The family she speaks of, Micah comes to know, is nothing more than a list of people she's met and left. Her parents passed due to disease and from then on, she'd been on the move. Made friends in various places and always left with new seeds to add to her garden.

It's a contradiction. A world widespread and full of people she thinks of with love. Yet she was ultimately alone with only the lives she grew from the ground keeping her company. Micah finds it strikingly different to himself, where he's surrounded by many who adore and rely on him yet he's struggled to think of anyone with affection.

"I'm very glad I moved here. The soil is fertile here. The townspeople are kind. And most of all... you're here, Micah."

The fondness in the woman's eyes is different from what she looks at plants with. She is looking at him not to care for him, but to be cared by him.

Something clicks in Micah's head.

If that is what you wish, Micah thinks to himself as he steps forward and brushes back a bit of her hair. Then let me tend to you the proper way.

The woman had been letting herself grow like one of her plants, with care but no guidance.