Wolfwood:

Sermon Two: The Shadow of God

By

C M Forde









Through the dimly lit window he could see the two women cooking dinner, steam rising from a pot on the stove like an evening mist coming over a vat expanse of forest. A sight that Wolfwood had never seen, would never see, none of them would. No matter how hard one dreamed, or how much one hoped, the growth wouldn't happen in their lifetime, if it happened at all. Personally, Wolfwood was convinced that it was impossible, the sands of this planet had been too long soaked in blood and tears to nurture the purity of plants. No, the only plants that this barren world would allow were the kind that walked and talked, the kind that killed and destroyed, the kind like Knives. Even through the dirty pane of glass Wolfwood could see his old master tightly rolled in bed sheets that were soaked with blood. The priest began to turn away, content in his passing glance at the life he had forsaken, when a familiar voice called to him from the darkness. "Why don't you come inside? Dinner's waiting for us." Vash the Stampede stood a few yards away, crimson coat whipping in a wind that seemed to rise up just for him. The priest just laughed, a soulless, joyless laugh, and walked away.





Everything was silent that night, only the rhythmic beating of his heart, and the soft breath of the woman beside him telling him that he was still alive. The ceiling of the hotel room was nothing spectacular, the same adobe that so many of the buildings in this town were made of, pale red with clean lines and smooth corners, nothing spectacular about it at all. But strangely, he found himself staring at it, he couldn't draw his eyes away, though it was as if he was staring past it, up into the heavens beyond and farther, to the endless depths of reality and more.

Vanessa stirred beside him and pushed her head under his chin, obligingly the priest's hand curled around her shoulder, fingers intertwining in her golden locks as he stared bleakly at the expanse of nothing he saw. Oblivion watched him from above, and it was a welcome voyeur, less demanding than any God, less intrusive than any devil. It was just an abyss, a dark void where nothing existed. Maybe he was staring up at the shadow of God, an all encompassing darkness blotting out the vestiges of a divinity. He couldn't tell, religion and philosophy had never really been his style. Vanessa moved under him, "Nick, are you awake?"

"Yeah." He was always awake, he couldn't remember the last time he had truly slept. Every tiny noise woke him, every rustle of the curtains, ever shift of the wind at his window was someone coming to take him to hell. It didn't bother him, he had lived with it for so long that the thought that it could be any different was as impossible as changing it.

The woman pressed her head into his chest, "What's wrong?" It was an easy question, simple as any that could be asked. What was keeping him up tonight? But Vanessa didn't have his problem, she was clean in her own mind. No one would come to harm her, no one would want to. At this thought Wolfwood smiled.

"Nothing, you wouldn't understand." His hand moved to caress her shoulder, trying to ease her back into slumber. He liked to be left alone during his contemplations. "Just go back to sleep Vanessa."

The woman frowned and shifted to look up into his face, hidden in the shadowy confines of the room. Even the window provided no light from outside, it was truly dark inside the room and out, they were as alone as they could be, private in the cold caress of the night. "Are you sure? Sometimes it helps to talk about things like this."

He laughed, "You don't understand at all. Just go back to sleep, I'm fine." They had had this conversation before, on the first night they had spent together. Vanessa had tried to get him to open up, to unlock the cage of his feelings, but he had kept her away as surely as he was doing now. Instead of trying to argue, the blonde just sighed and closed her eyes again, using the priest's chest as a pillow. On that note the night closed off, an empty slumber in a dark bed. A sleeping beauty and a wakeful priest. Two angels of death, wingless and earthbound. Wolfwood smiled.