Messiah is late - L. Khachatrian

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girl’s eyes were in tears.

      Arshak tightly hugged his sister. Looked at the priest.

      “Don’t worry. I will kick the dragon out right away.”

      Chapter 2

      The Priest

      And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her, and saide vnto her, Weepe not.

      And hee came and touched the beere; and they that bare him, stood still. And he said, Yong man, I say vnto thee, Arise.

      And he that was dead, sate vp, and began to speake…

      The priest looked at the believers. They showed indifference. They were deep in thoughts. Some were asleep. Even the old neighbor’s eyes were closed. Boredom. The priest closed the book. His breath faltered. He failed the “Bible Readings” again.

      …

      The ears of the big dog lying at the porch were swaying along the noise. His nostrils widened from the sigh of the wind. His eyes followed the passers-by.

      It was quite hot summer. When walking, people kept their mouths open. The dog’s muzzle was always closed. People’s clothes changed the color from sweat and dust. The dog was always as white as snow. His skin was so soft that when touching it you would fall asleep. It was beautiful.

      Gampr has been living in that small town for already a year. None of the locals had heard him bark yet. As large and muscled as a lion the dog spent the whole day lying at the porch. The dog was always wearing a white sleeveless shirt made of thick fabric. His owner dressed him. But why, no one understood. But the neighbors were ashamed to ask, as Gampr’s owner was the priest.

      A year ago, on one rainy day, the almost-forty-years-old man entered the yard with his dog. Everyone respected him, but tried not to attend his sermons. The priest was not able to talk persuasively. It was irritating people. And as a rule, people became more demanding at church.

      Unlike the priest, Gampr interested everyone, especially children. Many of them would come to the priest’s place with different excuses to see the dog. Gampr was indifferent. He was neither barking, nor licking. Ani, the neighbor’s daughter, also loved the dog very much. With the other neighbor, papa Torgom, she came every week to help with the priest’s garden work. The neighbor papa was snowy-haired and silent like Gampr. While he checked the priest’s saplings, the girl sat in front of Gampr on the ground and watched him.

      Suddenly Gampr raised his snout. He saw the master.

      “Ani, have you come to see your friend again?” asked the priest. Passing by Ani, he gently stroked her head and went into the house. It was hot. He was tired. He would sleep.

      The girl understood, that papa Torgom had finished his work and was waiting for her outside. Keeping her eyes on the dog, she put a step back, ran out and took papa’s hand.

      …

      In the evening the old neighbor came again to help the priest. He was silent during working. He was silent during the dinner as well. Then he decided to speak. He was nervous and worried.

      The whole night he was thinking what to say, how to say. But now the words were fleeing and the thoughts were scattering.

      “Father,” he stammered. “I have been thinking a lot… I think, you must give up the dog.”

      The neighbor looked at Gampr with fear. The dog was indifferent.

      “You were telling that you have found him in the mountains. Let’s take him back. What do you think, Father?”

      The priest sighed.

      “I have neither a wife, nor a child. Without the dog I will stay alone…”

      “You won’t,” the old man got excited. “The priest will never stay alone. God is always with you.”

      The priest looked strayed at the dog sitting at the corner. He wanted someone other than God to be with him.

      Gampr liked his muzzle self-complacently. The priest was looking at his blue, crystal eyes and as if in the mirror could see a strange man. He was reserved and silent, he could hide Gampr’s secret under the knitted woolen shirt. He was able to rescue what he did not understand. The priest had never seen such reflection of his own merits. He knew that in general whoever the man looked at, whatever he looked at and wherever he looked at, he saw himself. Previously, the priest looked at his son and could see the father. But then, the father-priest reflection diminished. It then disappeared.

      The priest constantly repeated in mind, “The world is a mirror for men.” And the simplest mirror is the pain. Here, everyone’s reflection is beautiful. Even the most villainous person is weak in front of the pain. The bigger the pain-mirror, the weaker and more helpless is the man. And the pain of the weak becomes smaller; it is easy to forgive the weak and it is difficult to judge the weak. He came to his senses. He understood that his thoughts had begun to progress in a wrong, apocryphal direction. He took a breath. He looked at the dog sitting under the window guarding the silence like Sphinx. He restrained.

      Gampr’s eyes were as peaceful as the battlefield after the war; a moment when nothing matters; when the interests, heroism and even gods are retreating. And the sweaty tiredness wins.

      Gampr yawned.

      Yeghishe

      Usually the things you avoid are the things you get confronted with. Yeghishe knew this absurd formula well. In his entire conscious life he had strived for an honest, you can say spotless patriotism. He was always against various movements, groups and especially political parties splitting the nation. Yeghishe’s father was not Christian, but had fought against the extremist groups of One God for the sake of Church. His father liked repeating that when patriotism was mixed with politics everything started to smell like gangrene. That smell had also flushed into Yeghishe’s childhood.

      Before dying Yeghishe’s father lost his two legs; one then the other. He left only his opinion about the national values and pure patriotism to his sons. As a result, Yeghise was now sitting in one of the city pubs with his two friends of the same political party.

      “Have you read the book,” Andok asked excitedly. He was about twenty years old, with sun-parched skin, freckled, skinny boy.

      “Sorry?” Yeghishe woke back to life.

      “Where have you been, brother,” smiled the dark-skinned, short-heighted Khoren. “How many times should we repeat the question?”

      “I was thinking,” answered Yeghishe indifferently. “So, what book?”

      “The one written by that idiot, Abel Gichunts,” said Khoren.

      “He has definitely made up his name… coward,” Andok interrupted.

      “Right,” agreed Khoren. “But the fact is that his books deprave the society.”

      “What does he write?” Yeghishe emptied his beer and with a gesture asked the waiter to repeat.

      “Well, first he talks too much about Christianity, as if it is the foundation of our identity…”

      “In some sense it is true,” smiled Yeghishe looking at the empty bottom of his beer glass. “Like paganism, Christianity was a part of our history, thus also of our identity…”

      “Yes, but it was,” protested Andok. When he was angry, his skin became more flushed. “The times have changed now. Besides, the Christianity has been distorted in his books as well. That idiot quotes from some false gospels…”

      “The priest used to say ‘a-po-cry-phal’, ” interrupted Khoren with a serious look.

      “Yes… right,” continued Andok. “Moreover, the priest also joins our strife. He says that because of the writers like Gichunts, the world

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