Soul Sanctuary - 1. Caliban

“Red one or blue one?” Caliban asks, “Which one did you say? You like the blue one better? I might have to disagree with you. I think the red one is more elegant. Remember it’s for the festival!”

He smiles holding both outfits awkwardly, given the hump in his back which does not allow him to stand straight.

“This is so elegant!” he says holding the red outfit, a suit he’s made himself from torn pieces of cloth that the Archdeacon has disposed of, “You say you don’t think so? Well, Aaron, I think you’re wrong!”

He folds the red suit and takes the blue one, which he also made.

“Let me help you into it,” he says.

Having said so, he approaches the handmade life-sized doll he named Aaron, and which he also manufactured over the years. Aaron is a real piece of art he started around five years before.

The head, hands and feet he made in silicone gel he stole from the church workshop, where saints are manufactured. He carefully and lovingly painted the pieces with silicone paints he also smuggled into his room. Caliban gave Aaron glass blue eyes which he salvaged from a broken saint thrown to the garbage. The doll’s black hair also came from the broken saint and Caliban rooted it to Aaron’s head one hair at a time with a felting needle.

Aaron’s body he put together sewing pieces of cloth which were also disposed of. His body took more time, since Caliban chose to use only pieces of fabric whose color resembled skin.

He finishes dressing Aaron and sets him on the chair in which he was sitting before, carefully folding the clothes he took off the doll.

“Yes, yes,” Caliban says, “You look good in blue. I just said the red one was more festive. What’s that? Oh! You have better taste than I do? I don’t think so! Look at the outfit I’ve chosen for myself!”

He runs to his trunk and picks a pair of brown pants and a worn brown jacket.

“What do you think? Oh! You don’t think I look good in brown? You want me to wear the red one? Oh, I couldn’t Aaron! The red one I made for you! It’s vibrant, and festive and happy ….”

He stops midsentence. He made Aaron beautiful and gave him a wonderful personality inside his head. He realizes Aaron, his only companion, is everything he isn’t.

‘How ugly must I be, if even my mother cast me away when I was just a baby?’

If Archdeacon Damien Brogan were not a pious man, chances are Caliban would’ve died in the garbage, where his mother threw him almost twenty years before. The Archdeacon is the closest thing to a father he knows. But he doesn’t have anyone to talk to aside from his master. He doesn’t have friends.

“Did I offend you, Aaron?” he asks wiping the tears running down his cheeks, “I’m sorry! Of course you are my friend! What is that? Yes, yes I know!”

He kneels before Aaron and takes the doll’s hand.

“Yes, Aaron, I know you are my trusted friend, I just … I just wish, for once, that you could talk to me for real, not only in my head ....”

He places his head in Aaron’s lap, weeping. He does not want to cry, but he can’t help it.

He reminds himself he has a good life. He has a place to sleep and three meals a day.

His master has said a lot of times he’s lucky, for very few people can claim to live in the most beautiful building in the whole North Continent. A thousand years old, the Cathedral is probably the oldest building in Obsidian. Some people say it dates back to the times before the old catastrophe, when space travel was rendered impossible and the planet was cut off from Earth as the other thirteen off world colonies.

He’s also received an education, which not many people can afford. Archdeacon Damien made sure he learn to read, add and subtract, even though he doesn’t need it for his job, which is basically to attend to his master’s needs. He’s had three different tutors over the years, but all of them have been mean to him, given his appearance.

He places Aaron’s vinyl hand over his own head as he cries.

“Thank you, Aaron,” he says, “I’m glad to have you as my friend. No, I really mean it. No, no! I’m not saying it just to make you feel good. Yes, yes, I know what I said. I already said I’m sorry, Aaron.”

“Caliban!” he hears his master call.

Scared that his master will find Aaron, he quickly takes him and places him inside the trunk. He wipes his tears as best as he can and runs to the desk on the back of his dark room where he opens one of his notebooks. He pretends to be practicing his writing and has barely written a couple of words when Damien Brogan comes in.

“Caliban,” he says.

“Master?” he asks, turning to face the tall and severe looking man.

“I was wondering what you were doing that you forgot to see to my bath ….” The man says in a contemptuous tone as he places his hand on Caliban’s hump.

“I … I’m sorry, master …” he says moving the notebook aside, “I must’ve lost track of the time ….”

“Well, nobody died,” he says and then smiles as best as he can.

“I’ll see to it immediately, master.”

“Please do. Later on I’ll be receiving a very important visit. And you wouldn’t want me to be filthy, now, would you Caliban?”

“No, master,” he says looking at Damien in the eye.

“I thought so. Well, go.”

“Yes, master.”

The nineteen year old hunchback jumps from his seat and starts walking towards the secret door in the back of the room. He apprehensively looks at the trunk on his way out, afraid that his master will find Aaron and decide to throw him away. Aaron has been his only friend for the last five years.

He walks from his room through the dark passageway hidden behind the walls. Ever since he was a kid, Master Damien has insisted that he not parade himself in public sight. People are cruel and evil, his master said. People will not understand that you are different.

He enters the master’s room and goes straight to the big bathroom. He taps the buttons on top of the tub and quickly goes back to position the master’s towel over a chair, the way he likes it. He pours the liquid soap inside the tub and checks on the temperature to make sure it is a bit hotter than warm.

He then hears Master Damien come inside the room and lock the door.

“Caliban,” he says, “help me undress.”

The hunchback walks back into the bedroom and stands in front of the Archdeacon, who extends his hands. Caliban carefully undoes the buttons of the man’s robe from neck to toes, and then walks around him so as to remove it. The man sits down so Caliban can remove his socks and then stands again so that his underwear can be removed as well.

The cleric walks towards the bathroom. He isn’t unattractive. He’s dark haired and has an angular face. He has a set of deep blue eyes under two bushy brows. His nose is aquiline and he has full lips. The Archdeacon also has a strong body, the obvious result of his morning workouts.

Caliban lowers his head so as not to see the many scars on his master’s back, the result of the self-inflicted punishment for his own sins. He follows his master’s steps to the bathroom and hurries to help him bathe.

“The water’s too hot,” The Archdeacon says as he sits in the tub.

“I’m … I’m so … sorry … master. I’ll ….” Caliban stutters.

“Forget it. I’m running out of time. Just bathe me.”

“Yes, master. Master?” Caliban asks.

“Yes Caliban?”

“You know how it’s … ummm … “

“The answer is no ....”

“Master?”

“You’re going to ask me about the festival,” The Archdeacon says, “you want to know if this year I’ll let you go. And the answer, as every year, Caliban, is no.”

“But master ….”

“There’s no buts, Caliban. We’ve had this conversation several times and you know I’m not going to change my mind about it.”

“Master ….”

“End of discussion!” Damien says raising his tone.

He comes out of the tub now that Caliban has finished rinsing his body. Caliban grabs the towel and starts the ritual of drying the cleric. He dries him from the head down. When he kneels to dry the man’s legs, his master places his hand over Caliban’s hump.

“Caliban,” he says softening his tone.

“Master?” Caliban replies trying to hide the fact that tears are welling up in his eyes.

“Stand up.”

As the young hunchback stands, Archdeacon Damien Brogan cups the young man’s face in his hands.

“You know what I’ve told you, Caliban. Out there … out there is a jungle. People like you have no place in the outside world. You are ....”

“Ugly, I know.”

“I was going to say different. People out there ….”

“Are cruel and evil. I know. You’ve said it many times.”

He folds the towel and places it over the chair as he goes back to the master’s bedroom. Damien Brogan walks to the bedroom right behind Caliban, and stands next to the bed, so the boy can dress him.

Caliban picks the Archdeacon’s underwear and kneels before his master. As the boy pulls the trunks up, he finds himself face to face with his master’s manhood, surrounded by a heavy patch of dark pubes. He hurries. He can feel the tears welled up in his eyes and he struggles not to let them fall. He knows he won’t be going to the festival and curses his master inside his head.

Once his done, he asks for his master’s approval so he can go back to his room. When he’s been granted permission, he runs to his room through the secret passageway. As he enters his room, he locks the door to the passage. He walks towards the room’s door and locks it also.

Only then he lets his tears flow as he opens his trunk to get ahold of Aaron. He throws himself on the bed, hugging his life-sized doll and only friend. Only Aaron can understand his suffering.

As he cries in Aaron’s arms, he finds himself wondering, for the very first time in his life, whether he should disobey his master and attend the festival. And with such thoughts in mind, he falls asleep.