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WARNING! WHAT YOU ARE ABOUT TO READ DEALS WITH CHURCH SETTINGS AND SOME DISTURBING, SLIGHTLY RELIGIOUS SCENES.

Precede with Caution and an open mind, thank you and have a nice day.

Waiting


She slowly made her way up the dozen or so steps that led to the cathedral doors. The place was old yes, but newly renovated. All the stained glass shone in the afternoon sun with a new resonance and the coral colored walls imitated it, the golden trim and gildings reflecting the setting sunlight beautifully. Downtown was bustling at this time of day, everyone rushing to get home.

It was easy to overlook the brown haired youth dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with old converse's treading lightly up the stairs and to the doors. Her eyeliner was done up the way she always did it, a single swirl drawn down from the corner of her left eye. Why was she here again? Why had she decided to come to this repulsive (in her eyes) place. She'd stood staring at it for 10 moments before ascending the steps in fact, unsure of why she'd come here.

She still didn’t know why.

The doors were thrust open by her black nailed hands, so pale against the dark brass and dark nails so akin to claws. Her face was carefully masked, eyes hard, lips pulled into a straight line, expressionless. The foyer was nice, warm, cozy, everything a church was supposed to give off. That air of safety and familiarity. She could practically hear a preacher saying, "You are safe, dear child." or something like it in that soft, stern, moral voice of his, or hers. She laughed dryly despite herself.

Safety, right.

The foyer was easily passed over by the determined youth. It didn’t matter to her; the pamphlets, the flyers on the bulletin boards. The posters and the drawings by Mrs. Smith’s 1st grade class were nothing but rainbow colored wallpaper that mattered not to her. It was trash; refuse that didn’t appeal to her and so was ignored completely. It would be in the garbage a month from now in any case so why should it matter?

She stopped once to look at the drawing closest to the doors that lead her into the hall in which the alter stood. Where the pews were lined up perfectly yon the red velvet carpeting in all there polished, refurbished glory. Where the pedestal the preacher stood at, stood with authority, facing the room and the ghosts of all who came there for any sermon, any sermon. It was a small Childs doodling of a cityscape, hardly worth a glance but the only one of it's kind in the collage of drawings. She glanced at it for a moment before stalking through the door and making footprints on the lush carpeting.

Why am I here? What has this place to do with me? This is a house of god (she snorted) and she was definitely not one of his children. She stopped and stared at everything. The stained glass depicting all manner of scenes from the bible seemed to stare back at her, glaring harshly in the dimming light of the sunset. The lights weren’t even on but she saw perfectly fine. Candles lit in candelabras lighting her path just perfectly.

She took a step forward tentatively, then another, and another, and another. Walking slowly down the aisle of the huge, deserted, cavernous room. It seemed so dark now...not holy as a cathedral is expected to look no matter what. To this girl the place seemed a neutral darkness. She sat in the first row of pews, staring about her as the sun set and night came.

"WHY AM I HEREF?? WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME??" she screamed into the darkness, moving to stand in front of the pedestal before kicking the thing to it's side, the loud thunk reverberating around the room along with her screams. She stood, after knocking over a few more plants, decorative things, tables, pulling down draperies, and pretty much doing as much damage as she could without touching the pews or the candles.

To see this place burn was not her intention because it would happen soon enough.

Her energy gave out and she collapsed to her knees in the darkness, eyes’ flashing as the candlelight was reflected from the now unearthly looking things. One last scream of complete and utter anguish that had been held for a year now echoed around the high walls and ceiling, bouncing off the windows and the pews, surrounding her. Pale hands covered and even paler face, while crouched on the velveteen floor of the cathedral on main, a young half-breed mutt cried. Hot tears sliding down her cheeks, unstoppable in the torrent.

"Why why why...I don't understand why you bastards had to choose me and him. I'M NOT A PUPPET ON A STRING! I’M NOT A HERO! I'M NOT A SAVIOR SO LET ME GO! LET US GO!" The shriek remained unanswered. The darkness closing in on her as her only means of escape was ripped from her grasp.

It is not your decision to make; you have no control, deal with it. These thoughts made their way through the thick haze and she fell back, sprawled out upon the river of red in the middle of the aisle. Staring up at the high-beamed ceiling with the candlelight flickering over her form she laid there.

Outside, the world began to come undone and she lay there.

Waiting.



© Copyright 2005 Aviarianna O' Lorien (FictionPress ID:232467). All rights reserved. Distribution of any kind is prohibited without the written consent of Aviarianna O' Lorien.