Special thanks on this story to my boy Josue who is a minister here in CT. He helped with the dialogue in this story, playing the part of one of the priests. Much respect, most people in his position wouldnt be willing to work on a story such as this given his position. Apostasy Josef Desade If there was a hell, he knew he was headed there. His soul was far beyond redemption and honestly, he just didn’t care. Inhuman screams issued forth with the first snip of the rusted garden shears. An explosion, tear drops falling to the ground; the windows had blown out. Feathers fluttered in the air, slowly drifting, settling to the cold dirt floor; one by one. White as pure snow; for a moment it seemed as if a storm had begun in the dimly lit basement as the wind from outside whipped through the empty eye sockets where the windows had been. He gazed upon the sobbing girl, porcelain skin against a backdrop of darkness, bound in steel chains; she knelt as if she were praying. Praying to an entity that no longer cared, if he ever had at all. Blood ran down the back of the angel, creating a thin trail that sent tiny droplets dripping down onto the wing that lay discarded behind her. It had turned black when the first crimson drop of blood had touched it, as if it had been poisoned. “The blood of an angel kills,” he thought to himself, “Well the devil’s in the details.” The angel looked up at him, an ocean of sadness and pain within her eyes. He held the garden shears beneath her back and let her blood drip onto the blade watching as it slowly covered the surface. He held them up in front of her and she stared frightened as the elixir of life ran down the steel. “This is the blood of Christ.” He ran the blade across her arm and the beautiful porcelain began to boil as the angel let out another scream. He slid it slowly across her one more time, watching as her flesh charred. “Ah, now you are just like us, imperfect,” he said as he laid his eyes upon the cross that lay smoking upon her arm like a fire that had just burned out. Tears fell from her eyes as he walked around behind her and cut off the other wing with a quick snip. It hit the ground and a fountain of blood burst forth from her shoulder, soaking the ground behind her. The second wing turned a deadly black and the angel fell forward on her face, the pain overwhelming her. He stood over her, watching as the blood pooled at her feet, smoke rising from where it had touched upon her skin, leaving scarred flesh behind. Her back rippled with blisters and she was sobbing uncontrollably. He grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, gazing into her eyes as crystal clear tears rolled down her face. “And it shall come to pass in the last days, saith God, I will pour out of my Spirit upon all flesh: and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams,” he whispered to her. He let go of her and she fell to her hands and knees as he walked around behind her again. “Revelation calls,” he softly said and then slid the garden shears around her neck; snip. A month ago he had been preaching sermons to the masses from the pulpit, now he stood behind the likeness of an angel burned into the ground, black and white feathers spiraling around the room in the breeze that came from the open wounds that led to the outside. He was perhaps the first human to witness the death of an angel; those etheric immortal creatures that were nothing more then slaves in the end. He had watched her head roll, bouncing on the ground like a ball, and then there had been a flash. He had blinked his eyes until they readjusted to the light and the angel had been gone. All that was left was a shadow, burned into the ground where her body had been, like a terrible reflection of what really awaited humanity. He went over to an old wooden rack that sat in the corner of the basement filled with empty mason jars that were wrapped within the twisted tangles of spider webs. He picked one up and brushed a spider away, then picked up a trowel from a table that sat nearby. He knelt down and slowly scooped the ashes into the jar and sealed it tight. To hold an angel in your palm, the wonder of it all, he thought to himself. He ran his fingers along the side of his face where a scar had begun to form. The blood had splashed back and before he had been able to move a single drop had touched his skin, branding him for damnation perhaps. No voice from on high had called down to him, no archangel’s had descended to smite him, not even a serpent had appeared to congratulate him. Everything had just grown silent. Silence...perhaps silence was something however. Maybe the silence was the entire chorus of angels in heaven screaming in agony. An eye for an eye he thought to himself as he sat down. He gazed down at the dirt floor in front of him. The vision of the angel still burned to the ground, although he had taken the ashes away. Perhaps after everything else is gone, this memorial will remain, a curious reminder of beauty that had once been. He reminisced about the first time he had stepped up to an altar. He had felt such exquisite joy gazing up at the stained glass windows above the priest; visions of angels dancing on high behind his vision. Nothing had ever come close to that initial joy he felt until he saw the death of one. The death of an immortal, incomprehensible ages witnessed, all those memories erased in a solitary moment. He wondered if demons in some dark abyss were rejoicing in the extinguished life of one of their own? Was there a master demon somewhere that was now counting down the hours until his soul belonged with them, lost in a place that was forgotten by time. He didn’t believe so...if there was a creature that was truly evil it was the creator who allowed children born without sin to perish. An eye for an eye he thought to himself. Where was the vengeful god of the Old Testament now? Why hadn’t he been stricken down for his actions? The only logical answer was that there was no one there. A clock chimed midnight somewhere above him in the monastery. It was Christmas morning. Nightfall...paralyzing dreams...he tossed and turned as he awoke repeatedly throughout the evening. It seemed as if he was cursed to see the angel’s face every time he closed his eyes. He had gone through the day as if sleep walking. Everything was a blur. Pacing back and forth through the rooms of the monastery his anger welled up as his eyes fell upon religious artifacts hung upon the walls of the chambers. He had visited the cemetery earlier, while the twilight sky had begun to take over the surrounding canvas he had fallen to his knees at the grave and cursed the heavens for giving him no answer. What other atrocious acts must he commit before it caught the attention of the god he had dedicated his life to serving. He was feverish, his mind racing as the sweat dripped down his face. He had watched the life fade from the eyes of the lady the night before, watched as the color slowly faded from the orbs that held a secret ocean within the confines of a leathery wrinkled beach. The ticking had begun again. It started off in the distance and got closer and closer, mocking his every move. What kind of game was this? A vision came into focus before him. The man with the cross, the pocket watch counting away the seconds, as the man sat before him in a wing back chair smiling. He watched as the man made the sign of the cross and then the church bell ringing outside the building snapped him back into reality. He was alone in the dark, the soft movement of the sands of time fading away like a distant dream. He began to cry and grabbed an antique porcelain cross from the wall and smashed it on the ground. Shards flew into the air around him and he kicked over the chair in front of him. Even now he was just a joke, a game for the amusement of divine beings. The road to damnation had been paved in laughter at his expense. He began to cry again as his eyes fell upon a portrait of Jesus. He looked back at him with a curious smile upon his face as if to say your pain means nothing. He closed his eyes and took a deep breathe, slowing his racing thoughts. He pulled himself slowly to his feet and backed out of the room. Josue sat in the dark, his nerves on end. He listened to the silence in the church. He tried to gather his thoughts while he waited, feeling a little uncomfortable sitting in a church that wasn’t his, from a faith that wasn’t either. He heard a faint echo as the sound of footsteps slowly approached. He heard shallow breathing as someone slid into the confessional on the other side of the screen. Why would god allow murder to be the only thing that has stuck with us since the beginning? An evil deed following us towards oblivion. “Father forgive me for I have sinned. Josue began his prayers but the man interrupted him abruptly, “That has always been a hard question to answer. Some would say it is because many have told God to leave their lives, with God being a gentleman and giving us free will, he steps aside. “I’ve done horrible things...the sound of his watch haunts me in my dreams...mocking me...and still no answers from heaven or hell. “Your conscience is getting the better of you. You are feeling alone in this time of sorrow, and you are looking for answers. “I know someone is listening, I can feel his presence...and yet silence greets me...I will receive an answer. “God will give you an answer. He chooses the time and the way you receive it. Even Jesus felt abandoned while he was on the cross. “I’ve seen an angel...I know they’re there...I watched as it died in torment...and still silence...it’s blood burned the ground...it’s silhouette burned as a horrible reminder.” Josue sat silent in the booth as he heard the footsteps echoing and slowly fading away. For a moment he forgot where he was as the stranger’s words replayed themselves. The footsteps died away and Josue said a prayer and slowly made his way out of the church as he pondered what he had just heard. Horrible nightmares had crept into his dreams until he could stand it no more. He sat awake, staring at the wall of his bedroom where a wooden cross hung against a white backdrop. He couldn’t get the ticking out of his head. His life, dedicated to a being that tormented his soul like it was a television program for his amusement. He could feel unseen eyes upon him as the flesh of his arms began to bump up. He screamed at the empty room and threw a glass from his nightstand, the shattering breaking the silence. He watched as the sun slowly rose in the sky, a fireball against a pale ocean, dotted with the lights of twinkling ships. He began to pace, back and forth to the phantom sound of the hands on a clock ticking when it hit him. He knew what must be done, it was so obvious. He sat down at a chair, gazing out at the rising sun and began to laugh. Josue sat in a recliner, staring at the blank screen on the television. He hadn’t slept at all, his thoughts and insomnia had become lovers for the evening. He couldn’t get the cryptic words out of his head the man had spoken about angels and deeds best left unsaid. What could he of possibly meant when he said he’d watched an angel die, surely he must be out of his mind. The man must be delusional, for how could that be possible? The rising rays of the sun washed across his face like the cleansing water of a baptismal font as he rose to his feet to start his morning routine. He looked out the window, the yard was bathed in a soothing light that calmed his nerves. The man obviously needed some kind of help, perhaps he should let the priest at the church know about their night time visitor. He flipped on the television and put on the news; a reporter in a cheap suit standing in front of a church. He turned the volume up and his eyes grew wide as he realized it was the church he had been meeting the strange man at. The reporter was going on about a homeless lady that had been found strangled a couple days prior. Nervously, Josue’s mind began to race as he stared at the stone church on the screen. The sun was setting as he stared up at the altar. The day had felt like a blur, he couldn’t keep track of the time. His body screamed out for sleep, but whenever he closed his eyes he was haunted by the man and his watch. He knew it was almost time; this time he would have the answers he seeked. Everything had fallen into place quite easily. The lady had come into the church to give confession, pushing along a carriage with a small infant. She hadn’t even seen it coming when he had hit her in the back of the head with the base of the candlestick. She had slumped to the ground and he had dragged her into the basement, using duct tape to bind her hands. Now he was awaiting nightfall as he gazed up at the stained glass windows behind the altar, the woman’s baby cooing gently beside him. An eye for an eye he thought to himself. He could feel someone watching him although he knew the church was empty. Some unseen force that was emitted from the shadows. The light falling on the floor was slowly creeping towards the walls as he began to light candles. If only you had answered my prayers I wouldn’t of had to go to such lengths, he thought to himself. If it weren’t for the strange visions he had seen he would of doubted there even was some spectral visitor that had been watching, and if it were the devil then there must be a god as well. A god that sat back and watched as he tried in vain to scream out to the heavens. He stepped back and watched the last of the sunlight dissipate as the altar glowed with the light of the dancing flames. The sun was setting as Josue approached the parish. He could see the light of candles reflecting off stained glass, an evening mass must of ended recently. He looked around at the receding sunlight and walked up to the old wooden door. He pulled lightly on the door to make sure it wasn’t locked and seeing as it moved he pulled it open the rest of the way, the weight of it catching him off guard. As he entered he noticed that there were no lights on, save the faint light down the corridor from candles. He must of caught them right before they locked up for the evening. Quietly he walked down the hall and towards the nave where he hoped to find the resident priest. He turned into the doorway and froze in shock at what he saw. Before the devilish illumination of the candles, a priest stood at the altar with a knife at his side, a sleeping infant lain before him. He slowly crept forward as he heard the priest talking to someone who couldn’t be seen when it dawned on him that the voice belonged to the man who’s confessions he had been taking. As he slowly moved forward, his footsteps muffled by a carpet that went the length between the pews he could hear the man arguing with himself, tears pouring down his face; glittering in the candlelight. He was within ten feet of the man when he saw him begin to move his arm. He watched as the metal glinted while the priest raised the knife above his head and began to raise his voice. Nonsense, gibberish. He ran forward and grabbed his arm, catching him off guard. The man began to struggle with him and losing their balance they took a step back, slipping on the nearby stairs leading up to the altar and fell backwards landing on the cold stone floor behind them. Out of breath and frantic, Josue rolled to the side as the steel of the blade swung down, catching his arm. He felt a stinging pain as he rolled further away and pulled himself quickly to his feet. The man climbed to his feet and as he lunged at him waving the knife wildly, Josue ducked to the side. He stumbled backwards, realizing he had been hit in the face with an elbow elbow and fell to the ground. Crawling towards the side of the nave Josue struggled to keep conscious as the black of midnight rushed forward to greet him. His eyes flickered as he saw the priest stumble and then fall face down before the altar, the knife jutting out of his side like a deformed appendage. Josue awoke to the sound of a clock. He lifted his head, confusion putting him in a haze as he tried to comprehend what had happened. Two solitary candles were lit at the altar and there was no sign of the child that had lain so peacefully on it. Josue blinked his eyes, adjusting to the dim lighting when he realized he was not alone. The troubled man who’s confession he had taken lay dead before the stairs, a thick pool of blood on the ground around him. Staring down nonchalantly at him was a man in dark clothing, holding what looked like a pocket watch. Josue frightened, lay still and watched; unsure of whether the man had noticed him or not. Time marched on...tick...tick...tick. The man sat behind the altar as if a king upon his throne, a pompous look on his face as he stared at the face of the watch. He put his feet up on the altar and leaned back. A wooden cross dangled from around his neck as he tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. The scent of frankincense and pine lingered in the air as Josue heard the hands slowly click over and the deafening sound of bells rang throughout the empty church. The echo slowly died down and there was a sudden flash of blinding light. The man closed the watch and put it into the pocket of his jacket as he looked up and Josue saw a man dressed in all white before him. He radiated with a brightness that was indescribable and as the man watched, wings unfolded behind the newcomer. The being slowly walked towards the altar as feathers fluttered slowly to the ground. He walked with a sad, forlorn look upon his face as he approached and fell to his knees. The man in black stood up and looked down upon the prostrate. “Day star, son of Dawn; once again we find ourselves on the precipice of heaven and hell. I send another one of the souls you so love; that has fallen from the tree of life, your way, for they have succumbed to the path of sin. I sincerely hope you enjoy your punishment as much as I.” He let out a laugh as Lucifer looked upon his face with sadness. He rose to his feet and picked up the body of the priest that was before him, his demeanor one of defeat and slowly started to walk between the pews. His brilliant white wings pulled in close to his body as there was a burst of light and Josue found himself alone, with the man in black. The man stood up and walked over to where he lay in the dark and looked down at him smiling. He opened up the old pocket watch in his hand and glanced at the face of it. A blinding light enveloped Josue and as he strained to see, he could hear the voice of the man coming to him from what seemed a great distance as a wind blew through the church, extinguishing the candles and leaving him in darkness “It’s amazing how one who was given the keys to heaven could fall in love with beings that are so easily corrupted. My, look at the time.
Posted on: Tue, 06 Jan 2015 20:35:12 +0000
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