The shade of darkness was a stark contrast to the hooded figure who eluded each passing stranger. Nothing could deter him from cathedral on the horizon. He was much to tired and in pain to travel any further than that. His skin was marble white, to match the stone casing of the door he so desperately hoped was opened to him. Even at this ungodly hour. The whisperings of a madman could be faintly heard, falling from his lips. A litany of apologies and prayer. It was too cold out here for his shivering, cloaked body. He needed to get inside.
Entering a sacred place such as this, felt more like a home to him than a church. It was immaculate, and smelled of heavy incense from the masses of the day. A scent he found inviting. Limping to the front and leaning heavily on the second pew, he rested. The protection of this place enveloped him like a warm embrace that he had never experienced in his waking reality. No one ever got close enough to touch him. Beams from the full moon shown brilliantly through the stained glass. The cherubs on the painted cathedral ceiling could just be made out as they watched over him with divine calmness and serene eyes.
Sliding into the row to sit, he laid his head on the rosewood pew infront of him. The ultimate sign of fatigue hitting him finally.
"Forgive me, Father."
He needed the comfort of words, spoken from the air. Not heard, but listened to through the mind. He needed a better understanding of why he was vulnerable to the lies of others. Why had he been misled to believe that his purpose here was to serve and worship the Almighty Father, when he had been told it was all a hoax? Had he not taken enough beatings in the name of God? Would not his Holy Father keep him safe from such blasphemy? Knowing in himself that he would never be worthy of such love, he began to weep.
"Please, do not disown me."
Moments later, as if by some unseen force, a soothing angelic voice filled his ears. Hushing and lulling all of his fears to rest.
When you speak of betrayal, talk not of things that may come back to haunt you. There are too many burdens weighing on your shoulders. Too many thoughts of ill will splayed across your blistering back. Confess them to me...
But, before you come to my alter, anoint your head. It will quiet you, and wash away the price you have laid upon it. It will steal away the voices of evil that you hear within. When you kneel at the pulpit, pray for those who have mislead you and forgive them of their sins. Mercy shall not be shown in the time of their death. And on the day of their final judgment, when they bow before me, they will call to you by name.
Silas, the ghostly angel...