Godless Nights
Connor & Murphy MacManus (gen), PG


everything shattered including the light / much never mattered, nothing was right
- bitch and animal, "scrap metal"


Murphy never dreamed about flying, or finding the woman of his dreams, or standing naked and embarrassed on a sidewalk teeming with people. He dreamed of walking into a nursery school, taking aim, and shooting. He dreamed of rummaging through the pockets of the dead man at his feet and finding an endless stream of notes, each reading "INNOCENT" in dark letters. He dreamed of murderers who hid inside gentle women, and of gentle women who hid inside murderers. And he dreamed of putting a gun to Connor's head, laughing at his hysterical pleas, and pulling the trigger.

Murphy's hands were never clean in his dreams. They were always stained with blood, both fresh and dried, smelling sharply of iron and vengeance and remorse.

Connor never dreamed because he never slept long enough for them to take root, letting them toss fruitlessly in the loose soil of his mind. He lay awake, night after night, and thought. He thought about life and death, right and wrong - the black and white parts of life that blurred into greys when he looked too closely.

Sometimes Connor felt God so heavily it was a physical weight, pressing down on his limbs and pushing his head down. He'd read about gangs and pimps and child molesters, and the edges of his sight would grow tinged with a white-orange light, escaping when he flicked his eyes to the side but always lurking in his peripheral vision. God was huge and encompassing and loud, ringing in his ears and dragging him to his feet when he could go no further. And Murphy would be happy and alive, jumping up and mock-pummeling Connor when he walked into a room, cracking filthy jokes as he elbowed Connor in the ribs and grabbed at his arm.

But then there were nights when God seemed dead and cold. Out of the brilliant sunlight, the shining sword seemed gaudy and oddly heavy, never balancing right in Connor's shaking hands. Connor would stand at the window and see only the dark corners and alleys, and truly believe that the light only existed to create shadows, secret places for the seedy and wrong and rotten. He'd think about the mothers of the city who stayed awake outside their children's doors, of fathers who boarded the windows and kept rifles by the door, convinced that their young ones would be the next to die. And he'd hold his head and squeeze his eyes shut, imagining an army in peacoats and ski masks with eyeholes sloppily cut out, their minds shut to God and bent on revenge. Never shall innocent blood be shed, he wanted to scream, but he knew they would never hear him.

And tonight, like so many other godless nights, Murphy wailed and screamed in his sleep. Not the snuffling yelps of restless babies, but the primal noise of those on whom God has rested his burdens, crushing and smothering. Murphy tossed and grabbed at the air and dreamed of drowning in rivers of blood. Connor made his way over to Murphy's bed, clutching at the covers in the dark, and slid in beside his brother. Resting his chin on Murphy's shoulder and smoothing his sweat-stiffened hair, Connor thought of home, of sharing a bed at night when the rain pounded on the roof and the stove had gone out and ma was too deeply asleep to notice. Connor remembered a night when Murphy had gotten so sick that three blankets and the family quilt had not been enough to stop his fierce shaking, and how he had held Murphy and rubbed his back and arms to warm him up even though his skin nearly burned Connor's small fingers. That night, he'd made a fierce vow to protect his brother from anything that might hurt him, and he had felt infused with life, spirit and purpose coursing through his veins. Murphy had finally stilled, his breath evening out and skin cooling, and Connor knew he had succeeded. But that was many years ago, and the only blood they knew was of the saints in their smudged prayer books.

Holding his trembling brother in his arms, Connor wondered if they'd ever sleep soundly again.




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