The Beginning of the End
The cold night air gusts up form the streets, forcing its presence against my face, striking me to my profane purgatory. I slipped my powerful hands into my pockets to shield them from the bleak weather and hunched my broad shoulders to keep the uncontrollable shivering in check.
‘God damn body shock.’ I breathed to myself.
The sounds of the streets this dreary night are the sounds of any other dreary night, and the few cars that do go by at this forsaken hour, pass by without so much as a glance to the poor souls roving the sidewalks of the tall city centre buildings and adult theatres.
‘How the hell could I have let things get so far?’
Dagger like icicles stab downward from the many troughs that line the graffiti marked buildings, like the icicles that had formed in my dead heart.
I struggle to study my breath in the air and begin to walk aimlessly, as my thoughts stray to the future and what lies ahead for the likes of myself.
I’ve been doing what I’ve been doing for quite sometime now, and I knew it was only a matter of time before the authorities caught up with me.
‘What kind of salvation is there for someone who has disfigured and butchered so many?’
I’d been a moderately religious man all my life, though with all that’s happened, faith faulted and I never gave the chance to recover the balance that my life so needed.
‘Where did I go so wrong?’
I continued to walk, sometimes stagger along this unguided path, all the while hoping for something to bring me out of this tortured state. Peace was all I wanted now.
Abruptly, I stopped walking and felt drawn. Something seemed to tug the strings of the deepest memories and loneliest hours.
“Angela, you looked so beautiful that day.” I whispered to my own thoughts.
I looked up knowingly at the source of this pain in front of me and subconsciously balled my hands into tight fists. It had been a long time since I had stepped into this building. The concrete architecture continued to decline with age and the two towering heavy wooden doors were still open to all, anytime.
‘Could this be?’
Without warning, as if guided by some unseen force, I reached for the handle that could possibly be my only hope and with staggering ease, pulled the door open and walked forth into the light.
Shadows formed dancing demons on the walls of the room, as the candles flickered in the gust created by his entrance.
The few people sitting in the rows of long empty bench seats seemed to take no notice as I took the nearest seat to the doors at the back of the room.
The mood was sullen and a cold sweat formed around my neck to add to my weariness.
‘Should I be here?’
I looked around the candlelit room to see various symbolic artifacts neatly placed about. Focusing in on the figure set to be the focal point in the room up front.
‘But, I had to do what all the others didn’t have the brutalization for. I had to make things right, though I’m not so sure that I haven’t crossed the line myself. It had been so simple, in the beginning, as painful as it was, it dulled the pain.’
I looked down at my red hands.
‘Do I have a soul? Do I have anything left? I must know.’ I looked back at the figure.
I now knew why my dreams led me here.
Quietly, I stood up and clumsily moved to the far corner of the room to the right, pushed the musty old royal maroon curtains aside and walked into the small private booth.
Within a couple of minutes, I was no longer alone.
“Pain is worn on your face and deceives what should be the riper years of your life my son. Something is unrighteous in your presence, I can see that, I can feel that. What is troubling you?” The well-disposed voice quietly filled the booth.
I was taken unaware of such direct accuracy of the older man’s observations and wordiness. Wincing at the pain of taking a deep breath, I leaned closer to the dark wooden screen opening separating us.
“I’ve never been to one of these things before, I don’t know where to begin. I don’t even know if I should be here. I’ve done some things, real bad things.”
The old man studied me on the other side for a few seconds before continuing.
“Whatever you bring into this sacred dwelling, has already been witnessed and has already been accounted for. I am not just any old open ear or a shoulder to cry on, I am here for your guidance, and if used properly, I can be used as a powerful tool to help you make peace.”
I wasn’t quite too sure how to take this all too serious old man, was he a fanatic or champion. At this point I didn’t really care.
“Yeah, well, with all that I have been through, I don’t know if I’ll ever find peace.”
The old man was silent, and it was as if the silence was all that was needed.
I wavered in my seat, head spinning, desperate to steady myself, unconsciousness was at my doorstep.
The cold night air gusts up form the streets, forcing its presence against my face, striking me to my profane purgatory. I slipped my powerful hands into my pockets to shield them from the bleak weather and hunched my broad shoulders to keep the uncontrollable shivering in check.
‘God damn body shock.’ I breathed to myself.
The sounds of the streets this dreary night are the sounds of any other dreary night, and the few cars that do go by at this forsaken hour, pass by without so much as a glance to the poor souls roving the sidewalks of the tall city centre buildings and adult theatres.
‘How the hell could I have let things get so far?’
Dagger like icicles stab downward from the many troughs that line the graffiti marked buildings, like the icicles that had formed in my dead heart.
I struggle to study my breath in the air and begin to walk aimlessly, as my thoughts stray to the future and what lies ahead for the likes of myself.
I’ve been doing what I’ve been doing for quite sometime now, and I knew it was only a matter of time before the authorities caught up with me.
‘What kind of salvation is there for someone who has disfigured and butchered so many?’
I’d been a moderately religious man all my life, though with all that’s happened, faith faulted and I never gave the chance to recover the balance that my life so needed.
‘Where did I go so wrong?’
I continued to walk, sometimes stagger along this unguided path, all the while hoping for something to bring me out of this tortured state. Peace was all I wanted now.
Abruptly, I stopped walking and felt drawn. Something seemed to tug the strings of the deepest memories and loneliest hours.
“Angela, you looked so beautiful that day.” I whispered to my own thoughts.
I looked up knowingly at the source of this pain in front of me and subconsciously balled my hands into tight fists. It had been a long time since I had stepped into this building. The concrete architecture continued to decline with age and the two towering heavy wooden doors were still open to all, anytime.
‘Could this be?’
Without warning, as if guided by some unseen force, I reached for the handle that could possibly be my only hope and with staggering ease, pulled the door open and walked forth into the light.
Shadows formed dancing demons on the walls of the room, as the candles flickered in the gust created by his entrance.
The few people sitting in the rows of long empty bench seats seemed to take no notice as I took the nearest seat to the doors at the back of the room.
The mood was sullen and a cold sweat formed around my neck to add to my weariness.
‘Should I be here?’
I looked around the candlelit room to see various symbolic artifacts neatly placed about. Focusing in on the figure set to be the focal point in the room up front.
‘But, I had to do what all the others didn’t have the brutalization for. I had to make things right, though I’m not so sure that I haven’t crossed the line myself. It had been so simple, in the beginning, as painful as it was, it dulled the pain.’
I looked down at my red hands.
‘Do I have a soul? Do I have anything left? I must know.’ I looked back at the figure.
I now knew why my dreams led me here.
Quietly, I stood up and clumsily moved to the far corner of the room to the right, pushed the musty old royal maroon curtains aside and walked into the small private booth.
Within a couple of minutes, I was no longer alone.
“Pain is worn on your face and deceives what should be the riper years of your life my son. Something is unrighteous in your presence, I can see that, I can feel that. What is troubling you?” The well-disposed voice quietly filled the booth.
I was taken unaware of such direct accuracy of the older man’s observations and wordiness. Wincing at the pain of taking a deep breath, I leaned closer to the dark wooden screen opening separating us.
“I’ve never been to one of these things before, I don’t know where to begin. I don’t even know if I should be here. I’ve done some things, real bad things.”
The old man studied me on the other side for a few seconds before continuing.
“Whatever you bring into this sacred dwelling, has already been witnessed and has already been accounted for. I am not just any old open ear or a shoulder to cry on, I am here for your guidance, and if used properly, I can be used as a powerful tool to help you make peace.”
I wasn’t quite too sure how to take this all too serious old man, was he a fanatic or champion. At this point I didn’t really care.
“Yeah, well, with all that I have been through, I don’t know if I’ll ever find peace.”
The old man was silent, and it was as if the silence was all that was needed.
I wavered in my seat, head spinning, desperate to steady myself, unconsciousness was at my doorstep.
“Dear Father, I have sinned.”
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