Unfinished untitled story

As he turned the corner, Anton’s eyes fell upon the most unsightly beggar imaginable. The man was lying on the cold pavement, and wore only rags. His balding head sprouted only half of the black hair the man may once have had. Due to malnutrition, his dark eyes were sunken into their sockets and the man had a thin face. The attenuated cheeks and small lips put in evidence the two front teeth which protruded from the mouth outwards a couple of centimeters. The pitiful frame of his body looked collapsed on the sidewalk and his left arm was missing, from what was surely a botched amputation while the right clutched something wrapped in cloth. Finally, his feet were unprotected from the cold and all of his toes and had become black from frostbite in the winter. The homeless man looked asleep but when Anton tried to skirt by him, the man noticed that he was carrying the Bible and his dark eyes light up and opened wide. He sat up so quickly that the student jumped from surprise and almost fell backwards into the street. The beggar smiled wide showing that he was missing a few teeth and said in a voice so hoarse Anton was sure it hurt the man to speak. 
“You must be a Christian. If you read the Bible you must be Christian.” 
Anton did not wish to reply, but he felt irritated by the judgment after such a severe one the night prior that he yielded an answer to the old man.  
“I don’t know what I am anymore.” 
“I have never doubted God, not for one minute of my life.” 
Anton looked the man up and down again and though the man’s statement to be farfetched. 
“I doubt that.” 
“You must never doubt, you must have faith.” 
“It’s when I see people in your condition that I doubt.” 
“I am in great condition. Up here,” he said pointing to his head, “and up there.” He added pointing to the sky. 
“Boy, sit down with me. I’ll tell you a story, and you’ll never doubt God again. 
Anton considered the little he had planned and decided to sit but not too close. 
“My name is, Alexei Manchev, I was once, in Russia, a fine maker hats. My shop, sold any hat you could think of. We had top hats, melon hats, short caps, hats with flaps even hats with goggles attached. For the plane riders, you know? And all of the most considerate quality. Within a year of it’s opening, my store was famous throughout the city of Moscow. Every Sunday, people would line up outside my store for hours to get a measurement of their head or even just to get a peak at the merchandise. I quickly became rich, and would have been for the rest of my life. Because of this success at the beginning of my career, by the time I reached the age of twenty-seven, I was an arrogant and condescending man who thought himself invincible and believed no danger could befall him. My religious self, was locked away in the back of my mind in that time and although I didn’t doubt God, I never gave him a thought either.”        
The beggar paused his story to recollect his thoughts and began clutching at the clothed item more strongly. Anton, who was by now intrigued by the story, simply stared at the beggar impatient to hear the next part. After a few moments, the man cleared his throat and resumed his narration. 
“When I turned twenty eight, I decide to celebrate with some close friends, by having a day of horseback riding. I was to get a greater gift than I could have ever imagined. While we rode, a great flash momentarily blinded me and I was catapulted off my horse and became unconscious. In my unconscious, I met God and he told me two things. Firstly, he told me than I was not living for I needed and secondly, that I needed to be closer to him. When I came to, I knew what needed to do. I needed to use my wealth, to obtain a relic of the Christian faith.”       
Anton was now unsure if he should believe the man. His eloquence indicated he was educated but the fact that he story was the same as St-Paul’s, awakened the skeptic in his audience. 
“The very next day!”        
When he said this, the old man in his now excited state, shook his wrapped up package violently so that some of the cloth came unraveled but nothing was revealed. He continued now almost shouting with the same scratchy voice. 
“I vowed, vowed I tell you, to get my hands on a relic. I sold my shop for a hefty sum and then left on an adventure. My travels took me west of my point of origin and I found myself in Western Europe loosing money but smelling gold. It wasn’t long before asking here and there led to a whisper and then a clue as to where I may get my hands on a relic. I was led to a small decaying village in the south of Spain where, I was told, the church housed the skeletal arm and hand of a Saint. Upon my arrival, the Church was closed because it was well into the evening and so I took a room in the nearest inn. When I went to the Church, I found the arm without much trouble. It was encased in a glass box and was on display for everyone to see. No doubt, it was meant as an attraction to the city. I found the residing priest and asked him how much he wanted for it. The man answered that it was not for sale. I told him of all the good the money could be used for. I reminded him how many people could be fed and how badly the village needed to make repairs. But, the man was stubborn and he would have none of it. He told me to get out and I had to give in. This was not going to stop me though.” 
“I decided, after a few visits to mass, that it was too risky to steal it outright. The priest had his eye on me every time I entered his establishment and the object of my desire was in plain sight and it would have been noticed as missing if I took it. I knew what I had to do. I had to replace it. It was my test, you see?” 
Anton, at first, did not understand what the man meant. It was so unconceivable, so stretched a concept that the student did not think of it with his brilliant mind. The beggar then used his right arm and pointed across his body. A look of horror replaced that of confusion on Anton’s face and the man simply laughed a wheezy laugh and continued. 
“I arranged to get a few jugs of water, a saw, some rags and bandages. I then locked myself in my small room on the second floor of the inn and went to work. First, I drank the water and afterwards urinated on the rags and placed them so they would block the crack under the door. I did not want the potent smell of a rotting arm to reach the nose of anyone outside. Next, I went to the bathroom, sat in the tub, saw in hand and bandages at the ready. A miracle took place, I swear to you. I dug into my flesh with the saw but I felt no pain. I went through the flesh, the muscle and bone until I got all the way to the other side of it and I bandaged my arm before falling unconscious. I do not know how long I was unconscious.
Anton butted in, “It’s a miracle you didn’t kill yourself.” 
“Surely, you are right. That makes two miracles then.” 
It took a short pause for the beggar to find his place again after the interruption. 
“When I came to that night, I became aware of a missing part of my plan. My severed arm, probably a half day decomposed, still had much tissue on it. It was an arm, not a skeleton. I needed a knife to cut away the surplus. Clearly, I could not leave the limb in my room in case someone came in during my absence to clean. Neither, I thought, could I leave the room with one arm, without being sent straight away to the nearest hospital. The answer to my dilemma was obvious. I would have to go to the kitchen and ask for a knife with the arm tucked into my sleeve. I did not think that anyone would be attentive enough to notice so late in the evening. So that’s what I did. Once I had wrapped the whole arm back together with some spare bandage, I carefully slid on my coat jacket and waited until the evening to set out for the kitchen on the first level. I’ll admit, my nerves weren’t exactly steady but, by the grace of God, when I left my room the inn was empty except for the cooks who were finishing their shift, dead tired and incapable of much observation. I asked simply as I could for a carving knife. The nearest cook asked no questions and handed me one and said that I was to return it in the morning. I agreed and walked briskly back to my room. I set to work immediately. It didn’t take long to pick the bone clean. After that, I wrapped up the stub properly and cleaned the room leaving perfectly tidy. Not a drop of blood, not a scent of rot and not a trace of anything uncommon. I threw my bag of belongings over my shoulder and tucked the skeletal arm into the sleeve of my jacket as I had before only this time I hid my arm from view under the front of the jacket across my chest. I cracked the door of my room and when I saw no one and heard nothing, I left quiet as a cat creeping up on a mouse. By then, even the cooks had gone to their beds or homes and the coast was clear for me to leave through the front door. The air was cool, but there was nor wind nor clouds. I walked quickly, almost at a run impatient to arrive at the church. Despite this, I could not help but be drawn by the environment. Everything was so still, as though time had stopped for me. There were no lights in the homes, the streetlamps were spaced far apart but close enough to shed light on the entire street. The sky was incredible. There were stars, so many of them shining brightly. As I turned the last corner, the church came into view, I walked right to the entrance and I stopped.”
At this, the beggar ceased speaking. Anton, by now, reveled at hearing the man speak. He was disgusted by the man’s story and still hardly inclined to believe a word of it, but found it so entertaining. He had, since the beginning, shifted his position so he now sat opposite the beggar and looked in his eyes. In doing so, he was taking up the whole sidewalk and people were forced to walk on the street to get around him, but he didn’t care.
“And then what happened? Why did you stop?” 

 “I stopped”, the man started, “I stopped because I heard noises from inside. I looked at my watch and saw that it was two o’clock in the morning. It must have been, I concluded, the stubborn ass who called himself a priest. I slowly opened the large, wooden doors trying to make as little noise as possible. I hoped the priest would not notice me entering. Unfortunately, the door was a bit warped and creaked rather audibly. I slipped it and waited for a moment to allow my eyes to adjust to the diminished light. When I could finally see, I realized the priest was glaring at me.

‘I know why you are here,’ he said, ‘You won’t have it.’

‘It is the will of God for me to have it. He told me so.’, I replied.

‘He would never grace the likes of you with his presence.’

‘He has.’