Stage: Soul
Nov. 12th, 2009 12:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
spongetasticHe sat at the back of the church letting the priest's words flow over him. He had his dark coat pulled around his body, his arms crossed over his chest tightly. After a few minutes he shifted and tugged the coat tighter around him. Anyone watching him would assume he was cold and trying desperately to warm himself, and in that they would be entirely correct. But the crossed arms were also a gesture of discomfort.
The last time Peter entered a church he was angry and lost. After high school he drifted away from church, wanting to discover the world on his own and choose for himself. But when he was at his lowest this was the place he turned to for help. Now he was here again looking for answers.
He waited until all the other worshippers exited before he rose to his feet. Peter stuck his hands in his pockets and moved slowly forward to the confessional booth. He walked stiff and cautious, as if he thought he would be struck by lightning. But he made it all the way to the confessional safely. Peter opened the door and stepped inside.
"Is it all right if I just ask a question?" he said once he stepped inside. "I don't think confession would do any good for me."
"Confession cleanses your soul of sin, my son," the priest told him. "There is no sin too great for our Savior to absolve."
"My soul," Peter repeated thoughtfully. He ran his tongue across his lips. The priest's smell was starting to get to him, just a little. "How can a person lose their soul?"
"By rejecting God and his gift of eternal life," the priest answered. Peter knew he never did that, but what he did do surely made him lose his soul.
"I've heard that people feel different after they accept Christ," Peter mentioned. "But I've been a Catholic my whole life, and I don't feel any different now than I've ever felt. I feel like the same person." He paused, closing his eyes to fight off the hunger beginning to gnaw away at him. "Almost the same," Peter corrected.
"The experience is different for everyone," the priest assured him.
"I wouldn't know," Peter shrugged. "I've never met someone in my situation."
"Your situation?" the priest repeated. "Would you like to talk about it?" Peter let the question hang in the air. He closed his eyes again but the hunger was growing stronger and stronger. He would never be strong enough to fight it off.
"Forgive me," Peter whispered.
"What is it, my son? What have you done?" Peter silently rose from his seat. He stepped out of the confessional, walking around to where the priest was sitting. He opened the door, catching the other man by surprise.
"This," Peter said, stepping forward and sinking his fangs into the priest's warm neck.
The last time Peter entered a church he was angry and lost. After high school he drifted away from church, wanting to discover the world on his own and choose for himself. But when he was at his lowest this was the place he turned to for help. Now he was here again looking for answers.
He waited until all the other worshippers exited before he rose to his feet. Peter stuck his hands in his pockets and moved slowly forward to the confessional booth. He walked stiff and cautious, as if he thought he would be struck by lightning. But he made it all the way to the confessional safely. Peter opened the door and stepped inside.
"Is it all right if I just ask a question?" he said once he stepped inside. "I don't think confession would do any good for me."
"Confession cleanses your soul of sin, my son," the priest told him. "There is no sin too great for our Savior to absolve."
"My soul," Peter repeated thoughtfully. He ran his tongue across his lips. The priest's smell was starting to get to him, just a little. "How can a person lose their soul?"
"By rejecting God and his gift of eternal life," the priest answered. Peter knew he never did that, but what he did do surely made him lose his soul.
"I've heard that people feel different after they accept Christ," Peter mentioned. "But I've been a Catholic my whole life, and I don't feel any different now than I've ever felt. I feel like the same person." He paused, closing his eyes to fight off the hunger beginning to gnaw away at him. "Almost the same," Peter corrected.
"The experience is different for everyone," the priest assured him.
"I wouldn't know," Peter shrugged. "I've never met someone in my situation."
"Your situation?" the priest repeated. "Would you like to talk about it?" Peter let the question hang in the air. He closed his eyes again but the hunger was growing stronger and stronger. He would never be strong enough to fight it off.
"Forgive me," Peter whispered.
"What is it, my son? What have you done?" Peter silently rose from his seat. He stepped out of the confessional, walking around to where the priest was sitting. He opened the door, catching the other man by surprise.
"This," Peter said, stepping forward and sinking his fangs into the priest's warm neck.