Warnings: Don't like, don't read. Major bashing towards Christianity and Jesus. You have been warned. Also, murder, death and some faint gore.
Disclaimer: Nothing.
-Religion-
His footsteps echoed along the empty halls eerily, like if the presence that enveloped the domain knew of his ill repute before he himself could grasp it, even the concept itself. Something inside knew that he was foreign to the holy grounds that his dirty feet traveled upon the second he walked in, trailed by a looming silence.
Only his figure, lone to the great halls, the pathway to deliverance was lingering when cast away from the spiritual haven that he refused rapture from. His blessed ignorance let him venture along the crimson silk veiling the stone floors as he passed aisle after aisle, all empty.
Another pace, he grew more confident but for a wavering second, doubt surfaced. In his careful stride closer, he pushed those thoughts aside and listened to what beat beneath his shell, into the depths of his core, the central neural system to his life, his heart.
It spoke in a melodic sound that lured him to the cross, the symbol of trinity and the foundation of religious beliefs. His eyes, glazed over with the glossy marine color diverted to the face of his demons suffering still to this day as he hang from pegs impaling and a thorn crown bleeding away his essence.
He snorted at the face, turned downward in what he believed was shame, his indignity of being tortured to deliver the sins of every other living being that did not deserve such charity. God, before his eyes was merely a passage from an insane rambler, one whose tongue should have been removed for his ludicrous tales.
An atheist in a church was a thing rarely seen, entering by choice, seldom believed but this boy was the exception. He turned, walking to the confessional booth with his head up, and looking to the endlessly designed ceiling like if mocking the angels with the glint in his eyes.
''Forgive me father, for I have sinned.''
His voice was low, moderate, monotone even, an unwavering level of comfort and confidence as the small window slid upon, the brass railings between them, hiding faces and complexions.
''Do speak up child, I am listening.''
''Where to begin father? Where to begin?''
''What ails you the most?''
''I fear I have fallen in love.''
He confessed openly. His cockeyed glance watched the shadows dancing upon the floor and the ones from the window from the tiny light in the chamber beside him. A tiny grin began to play upon his lips, as the reply he heard was not satisfactory.
''The Lord does not band love child. It is a natural process.''
''But the love of which I speak of is not one the church approves of.''
The expected questioning ensued, much to his personal delight as his fingers idly placed against the brass, poked through to the other side audaciously, and nails ringing against the metal.
''And that is?''
''I love a man father, I have fallen deeply and madly for my own gender.''
An uncomfortable silence impended dangerously as the priest chose his words carefully, not letting his own opinion cloud his judgment and his phrasing when they should not be involved.
''True love was meant to be between a man and a woman.''
''But love knows no laws, would it not then be considered hypocritical?''
He pushed, ever word sliding off his tongue naturally, like a speech, a plan, a memorized course of actions played out to his exact calculations with sheer precision and unmatchable accuracy.
''What is the boy's name child?''
It was not common for that question to surface without misadvising with bible quotations and recital of passages but the abstinence follower pressed on with it, besides his own self-scolding afterwards.
Though it seemed to please the one seeking such false aid, formulated, desired and rebelled yet he remained truthful to his statement. Was it hesitation, or a suspense fully planned out response, absorbing maddeningly quiet seconds between the confessed answer that became enticing to hear.
''Boris. I am in love with Boris.''
''Then you and this Boris will parish into the flames of the scorching abyss for an eternity, together.''
A grunt resonated from his throat as he raised from the hard wooden bench, jerking open the matching door and slamming it behind him. The minister joined in his movements, lifting his long robes to scurry out of his adjoining stall. He wanted to get a good look of the youth and that he did. Looking up, he stood face to face with a pair of cold blue eyes, staring him down with intensity. With a step back, he stumbled from the close surprise and fell sitting on the rigid plank.
''You scared me child.''
''Not yet, I have not.'' He said icily, a menacing etch appearing on his visage.
The black veiled body advanced, hands hidden behind his back as his shoulders slumped low, at even level with the other. For a second he stood, unmoving, watching the old frail body fidget nervously, fumbling with words that no longer slid off his tongue when the wall was removed.
The hesitation, twitching in the owl eyes did not affect him and as his right hand slowly revealed itself, a syringe joined it in a clear path towards the jugular vein, pulsing beneath the callous skin. A yelp dulled to nothing, drowned out in the paralyzing effect, halting his fit as he fought the clear substance.
''Why bother Father? You will only be able to breathe once you suffer the full effects.''
The male was in fact correct as the injection left but the lungs the ability to suck in greedily anxious inhales of air. Minutes passed before he became full still, the terror permanently coursing through his eyes and failed yells slurring off his lips.
Once he posed no threat, not even able blink properly, the attacker leisurely lifted a pant leg, pulling out a silver blade from the hidden belt strapped to his ankle. It glinted under the faint light, a flash shinning along the straightened tip. Sharpened to a perfect line, the elderly was introduced to it as it slid teasingly over his neck.
''If your God truly loved you and the work you do for him, do you really think you would be in this situation?'' He asked rhetorically, finding it rather funny because he chortled, looking around, as if to the heavens for his mocking emphasis.
''Your religion does not make much sense. If this son of the great delivered a message, if he really did, what do you think it would say?'' Again, he ribbed, pushing his insults further.
''It would say, you are all going to die.'' Another attempt to scream rumbled in the priest's throat as he squeezed his eyes shut and tossed his head around violently, a reflex and not by his own will.
''He has a point; you know…we all will. Most of us already have, why did he not prevent that from happening if that was not his message for us? Why are in this third world war?'' He spat on the pious beliefs, summing up the worlds tragedy, accusing it all towards one flawed faith.
''Even if you could tell me, I can be assured you speak but lies and for that, like Jesus of Nazareth, you should not be allowed to talk you words of misguidance.'' He lashed out, bringing the lengthy inch blade to the quivering lips, dipping it inside to carve out his sullied and soiled tongue.
The flesh was drenched in blood, flows of crimson poring out from the orifice, contorted in a blind pain that did not hurt physically but mentally. The hunk he tore out dangled before he placed it on the stained robes. Tears joined the trails downward, mixing into a copper fast bled away.
''And if you were really sanctified by your savior, touched by his right hand, you should have no objection to the removal of your own.''
Eyes darted down to the member in question as the bloodied blade sank deep within the skin he could not feel, piercing muscle to bone at the right sided wrist. It sawed at the bone, chipping, breaking, severing the connection. The dismembered limb shook as he grasped it, picking up the first disemboweled piece and turning.
''Rest in pieces, Father.''
The assailant smirked as he did the symbols with his fingers for the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit before whispering an almost inaudible amen for only them to hear and swung the entry shut behind him.
Up the few steps, the alter drew his attention as he walked to it, humming a long forgotten prayer from his early days when he sat in the pews with his parents. The tongue dripped its blood into the holy cup as it was placed in the plate. Again, he bowed to the display, hoping his way down to the exiting corridor.
''If there was really a God, it would be me.''
The laughing across the antechamber and down the corridor, jerked the cocky gaze up from the cross to the new attendance joining him. A cloud of smoke followed the speaking lips, floating up towards the high-rise ceiling, dissipating until another took its place.
Each walked, meeting up in the middle, the matching attires drawing nearer. The ebony, alien to the bright colors in the paint and shards of stained glass, dressed both men, head to toe. The cigarette was stolen as the boastful male inhaled the toxic, smirking as it escaped his mouth with an outward blow.
''Just how many sins have you committed today, Yuri?''
''I can add another if you like, Boris.''
The white burning stick, thrown over his shoulder was discarded as his fingers tangled in the gray locks, bringing down the grinning face, in another delicious offense and peccadillo to the desecrated cathedral. They kissed their love for the ever-watching eyes to see, both gazing upwards with their identical leers, before leaving the premises.
''Blow it up boys.''
With a nod, the leaver for the dynamite pushed into the fuse box, a loud boom exploding the walls, pillars falling and pointed ceilings crashing. In a few seconds, the house of prayers was reduced to a pile of ruble and destruction, satisfaction gracing the demolition crew as they cheered for the downfall.
-EndE-
I did not want the main theme to be considered as how homosexuality is treated in this religion but more of a subplot. I tried to focus more on how our world could easily slip into this situation of a third world war and how people, faithful worshippers might see the event with a negative perspective.
These views do not represent the characters in any way or means, thus meaning that this is fiction and should be accepted as much as the good side is.
If you want to flame, make it tasteful and do not come preach to me about religion, I do not believe in it.
Cheap play on words/pun with the mention of the Demolition Crew. I know, lame…