(Hah! Welcome to the crazy ass world of Fides. Don't remember much how I came up with all this stuff, but suffice to say it was during finals after consuming high quantities of Snapple and stressing over studying. And yes, this story did kinda kill my studying, but hell if I didn't manage to ace my exams anyways :D
Thanks to everyone who gave me help and tips for this story, who dealt with my craziness while writing it, and to pure luck for not having my brain explode during the stressful time I was writing this. I find it horribly ironic that I tend to write a lot of crazy, supernatural fic, when it's not even really my favorite genre. Ah well. Hope you enjoy this! Concrit and comments welcomed and appreciated! This will be updated at the same schedule as LJ, and will not affect posting of His Nightmares, since both projects are already finished.)
When was the last time he'd been in a church?
That was the question that wouldn't get out of his mind. Funny how as he stood, dripping wet under the stone archway; that he'd want the answer to something so unnecessary. Did it really matter how long it had been? Was God counting every Sunday mass he missed, every check mark adding another century in hell?
Why did he even come here? What was the point? If there was a hell, there was probably no saving himself from it.
But Perry still wanted to know when he'd last been in a church.
The rain pelting outside drew him back to the present evening. He shut the wooden door behind him, soft candlelight reflecting off the metal hinges. The echo was so loud when it swung shut… he wondered if anyone was even here.
This was the lobby, a small entrance hall before passing into the main room of the church. Deep red carpeting covered the floor, sickly blood-colored in the dim light. The electric candelabrum above was useless because of the blackout, leaving the real candles on the walls to take up the slack. Curved stone walls never ended, shaping the room into a half moon.
There was a cough, and he swung to his left to see an older gentleman looking all for the world like he had crawled out of the grave. Pale, wrinkled skin covered his body; a mop of white hair on his head. A cough that hinted at emphysema echoed from his lungs. He was clothed in black priest's garments; little white square at the top. No wonder Perry hadn't seen the man when he walked in; he could barely see the outline of the robes in the dim lighting. It was as if the holy man had been waiting there fore him the whole time.
"Can I help you, my son?"
"Are you open?"
The man smiled, revealing yellow teeth. Definitely a smoker. "We never close for those who need guidance. What are you in need of?"
"I just… need some time in here, is all. Mind if I take a look around?"
"Not at all." With another smile, the priest turned, walking towards the shut doors across the hall. Perry followed, noting the prayer book the priest carried against his chest. He wondered if that had been what the priest had been doing when he arrived. There was no good reason for the man to have just been standing there anyways. Unless there was some odd ritual he hadn't heard about, where priests stood by doorways to wait for "lost sheep" or whatever they called people like Perry. It could be the case, maybe it had started since the last time he visited a church…
When was the last time he was in a church?
There was a click, and the doors swung open, revealing a gaping hole in the universe that called itself a church. Rows and rows and rows of pews stood before him, leadings towards a distant altar that looked a continent away. The roof seemed non-existent, just a black nothingness; it was so high, and unable to be lit by the small candles on the altar or even the windows higher up on the walls, that let the dim twilight glow through.
Tapestries layered over stone. Everything was stone; everything but the wood. Stone and wood, and cloth stitched by nuns, with designs so intricate that Perry wondered if any of their creators still had fingers left. Wax, spilling over the candleholders, pooling on the stone. Stone, wood, cloth, wax. The building blocks of God's house.
Perry stepped inside, and avoided the urge to skirt the wall. If God could see him, then there was no use trying to hide. Especially in his own goddamned house. Heh, Newbie would laugh at-
Do not think about Newbie.
"Ahem."
The priest was giving him a look and motioning over to a small metal bowl attached to the wall. Stale water pooled inside. Perry wondered what the point was, after being drenched by the thunderstorm.
"If you're already wet, more won't hurt."
The old man could read minds. Could he read Perry's darkest thoughts? Could he see…?
No, of course not. Don't be an idiot.
Still, he wet his thumb and pressed it to his forehead, then to his chest, and finally to his shoulders.
"I'll let you be." With a gruff nod, the priest had disappeared behind the door. It clanked shut behind him, and Perry was left alone.
Frankly, with the size and shape of the chilly room, he felt a little like Dorothy without her ruby slippers.
Taking a seat in the front most pew, he let out a rush of breath, watching it crystallize in the cold air in front of him.
Why wasn't the heater on?
Right, the blackout. How stupid was he to forget all about that? His mind was stressed out; he'd never make a stupid mistake like that otherwise. Maybe Newbie was getting-
Do not think about Newbie.
He looked up to the wooden cross hanging above the altar and thought back on the conversation he'd had with his sister. When he'd called to talk about his… problem, she'd said, "Find a shrink or a priest. Knowing how you hate shrinks, maybe you'll try my way for once."
So for some misguided reason, he'd decided to take her advice, if in a roundabout way. If a priest was a messenger to God, then why not skip the middleman and go straight to the Almighty himself?
Perry didn't know what he was trying to prove. It wasn't like if his problem didn't go away, it meant that there was no God. He really didn't give a damn either way whether there was or not; he just wanted this… this thing to go away!
He'd tried everything he could think of. He was desperate. And desperate men call their sisters. Their crazy-ass devout Christian sisters. What else did he think she would say?
Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.
This was stupid. He was being stupid. This shit wasn't going to work. Perry had never had Paige's faith, and he damned well didn't need it. This problem wasn't a problem at all.
Jesus, it was cold in here. It wasn't that cold outside, was it?
He stood and moved to the center aisle, planning to leave. This wasn't helping jack shit. He needed a drink and a night's sleep. He had a twelve hour shift tomorrow, and Ne-, some people were depending on him.
And if a man…
He spun, looking for the source of the voice he had heard moments before. "Hello? Somebody there?"
Huh, that was odd; he thought he'd heard something.
And if a man lieth with another man
"Hey! Who the hell is there!"
Silence.
This was nuts. He was nuts. His mind was playing tricks on him. Calm down Perry. No one, no one knows your secret.
They have both committed an abomination
"Shut the fuck UP!"
Silence.
It was the priest. He knew. Somehow, he knew. That bastard, he could probably tell the second Perry had walked in here. Well, he would give the son of a bitch a piece of his mind right-
THEY SHALL SURELY
"AHHHHH!"
Scream.
He'd hit the stone step that separated the altar from the main floor; thrown back by some invisible force. What the fuck? Who had done tha- oh, shit; he was going to feel that tomorrow. Ok, he should get up slo-
BE PUT TO DEATH
The next blow threw him up towards the roof (sky).
FATHER FORGIVE THEM. Oh god, what was going on? Let go, let go of me! FATHER oh shit, not against the- FORGIVE AHHHHH! Oh god, what happe- FATHER FORGIVE THEM GET OUT OF MY HEAD YOU SON OF A- FOR THEY KNOW NOT Why are you doing this? Who are you! FOR THEY KNOW Let me GO, don't do this, I've got a kid, I- THEY KNOW NOTI DON'T WANT TO DIE! Jack, I'm sorry, oh Jesus, kid- KNOW NOT WHAT THEY DO NEWBIE! I'm sorry! I sho- WHAT THEY DO JAAAAAYDEEEEEEE!
Silence.
He'd gone from altar to pillar to pew. Slam, crash. The tabernacle was broken open with the force of his back slamming into it. Slowly, he gripped the edge of a broken pew and stood, facing the wooden cross. He walked, taking two steps and jumping clear over the altar table itself.
A slash; and the cross now held five long gashes. Perry looked at his hand, fingertips bleeding from the force of his effort. Blood dripped, as red as his pupils. He licked it away, grinned, and then spoke out to the empty audience.
"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."
When was the last time Perry Cox had been in a church?