hey all, welcome to (another) new book! this one is basically just a bunch of lil poetry snippets and other short stories i've written over time. thanks for reading!!
xx
*this story may offend some people, if it does, please dm me your concerns <3*
If I squinted and held the paper at just the right angle, I could make out a faint outline. I moved cautiously in the dim light, away from the marble altar. I had been watching the priest for weeks now. The way he communicated, the way he spoke evenly with stunted breaths as he read from his bible. His fingers would trace the pages, shadowing his words. I would listen intently alongside the other frequent church-goers.
I had been allocated to this case shortly before I found him. I was not to know the complete reason, but merely find a book of his musings, in which the answer to everything lay. He kept it hidden well enough that I have had to observe for a while, learn his doings, enter his mind.
They told me he has spoken with God himself, but I feel nonchalant to their claims. There is no god. Only life and death, and the desperation to stay here that one minute longer for people who do not love you. Maybe it is just the memories, in which I have many that I wish to forget. They're fingers gripping my spine; touching and prodding at my drawbacks.
If I could ask for anything, I would want to rid of my mind and its darkness and despair and loss of will for anything and meaning – then perhaps I could sleep at peace at night, rather than my hand poised over the trigger of my weapon, ready to aim at any moment. Nightmares and thoughts that devour my sleep. There is no god. He would have saved me, supply the relief I crave.
A noise behind me sent my mind racing, heart pumping. I pushed the small black book deep into my pocket, and pointed my gun at the door of the priest's room. It creaked open, and the stocky man I had come to know stood before me. I aimed between his eyes. I knew what he was going to say. I knew him like a reader knows his favorite book. I had to get out of his head, it hurts to study humans this close, this deep.
"Young man, please do lower your weapon. We are in a House of God."
A shrill laugh escaped my mouth. "House of God. You speak of him so highly. But has he ever answered your prayers?"
"Yes, I can say so," He wondered over to me, nightclothes swaying around his legs. "My dear boy, please put down the gun. Violence is not needed to achieve what you want."
"Oh, but it is," I freshen my clutch on the handle. Clenching my teeth, I spit at his feet. "Because you, like so many others, believe this made-up figure can save the day!"
The priest's eyes were fixed on his slippers, which I had spat upon. He coolly met my deadpanned stare, his face molding into both sadness and sympathy.
I hated that. I hated it so much I wanted to scream, pull that god-dammed trigger.
He sighed, and took a calculated step backwards. "Please, if the book is what you need, take it. It has no more meaning to me."
My back stiffened. How did he know I had the book? "What do you mean, no more meaning? You're lying!"
My voice rattled the cabinets nearby, and it felt like I was breathing fire.
"You see, when I spoke with God," he stated evenly, ignoring my hiss. "He blessed me with something incredibly special."
The priest sighed, looking into the distance. "I can see things that all wish to see. I use this gift to help others. Now, I can see how to help you, give you what you really desire. You have a dark mind; a beautiful but scarred soul. The best I can do is help you follow the path you wish to choose."
He made a gesture with his hands, touching his head, chest and shoulders. With a deep breath, he bared his face to me for the last time. The priest raised his arms, something in his hands, and took cautious steps towards me.
"We forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."
By his closing word, he was in arms-length of me. The metal shuddered in my hands, and I dared not to wipe my dribbling brow.
"I hope for your soul to be healed." The priest stretched out and clasped a gold chain around my neck. Looking down, there was a cross adorning the necklace. "May the lord Jesus guide and protect you."
He stood back, and I took the opportunity. I felt demoralized, but raised the gun and sneered. "Forgive me, father, for I have sinned."
A familiar earsplitting noise ricocheted through the open space, piercing my eardrums. A content expression filled the priest's face, as his body crumpled beneath him.
After all of this, I still felt the weight over my shoulders. An ache in my chest. The blood trickling from his body was hypnotic. I desired to feel something about the situation, but maybe that was too much to ask these days. I felt numb.
If god wasn't to help me, maybe I was just meant to help myself.
I pointed the tip of the pistol to my head.
It'll be okay.
I guess it's just better off this way.
