[standing in the church today, staring at the stained glass.
the glass shifts and moves, glitters with the reflection. holy light shines down on the pews, burning a neat hole through one of them, and - catching fire, crawling across the wood, staining the metal black with soot. there's the sound of a knife clanging off of a surface, a thud. and a man in a white cassock stands with his staff pointed out, staring down a woman in purple. holding out his hand, it's alright, it's okay, he says, and then, without warning, there's the sound of metal through flesh, and the white cassock drips red, gathers crimson where his heart should be.
and for a moment, it almost feels true. for a moment, she reaches up to hold her collar, pulling it away from her neck so far it looks like it might snap.]
w6, FRIDAY
the glass shifts and moves, glitters with the reflection. holy light shines down on the pews, burning a neat hole through one of them, and - catching fire, crawling across the wood, staining the metal black with soot. there's the sound of a knife clanging off of a surface, a thud. and a man in a white cassock stands with his staff pointed out, staring down a woman in purple. holding out his hand, it's alright, it's okay, he says, and then, without warning, there's the sound of metal through flesh, and the white cassock drips red, gathers crimson where his heart should be.
and for a moment, it almost feels true. for a moment, she reaches up to hold her collar, pulling it away from her neck so far it looks like it might snap.]