Well, it's been over a week since I posted something. Good thing I said I wasn't planning a post a day until the new year. I'm procrastinating, which I find is always a good time to write things except for the things that need writing, like essays... So I'm going to try for another short story intro thing today, but really have nothing planned, so am quite excited to see where this goes.
Chris stifled a yawn. It was too early. It was always too early... He'd been going to church now on and off for, well, most of his life. He couldn't help but muse about how Sundays always seemed to drag out whilst he consumed his usual Sunday morning 'breakfast' of a cup of weak, watery, overly milky tea and a dry custard cream biscuit. Why did they never stir the pot? Why could they never leave the tea to stand? And why were the biscuits always stale?! Some might say that this was an ironic reflection of the modern church: stale, watered down, anaemic... At least, this was how Chris had been feeling as of late. He tossed his paper cup into the rubbish and finished his biscuit, his stomach already groaning in protest at the continuation of this weekly ritual, yearning for something, anything more substantial than that of a stale biscuit. A frown played over Chris's lips as he found a seat nearer to the back than usual, not wanting to be noticed by any of the usual old dears that always made a point of talking to him and asking how things were with his girlfriend... He hadn't the heart to tell them that they'd broke up a good three months ago and she was now living in Texas with a fitness instructor named Davis. Honestly, Davis? That was a surname! Who names their child with a surname?!
The sermon passed; some trite little cliche number about sin clinging to the lives of people, though the preacher forgot to cover the part about salvation, about Jesus coming to free people from their sins... Preachers, often the most cynical and miserable people in the world yet supposedly with the greatest of messages. Chris coughed and stood, putting his jacket back on before turning and nearly knocking over Mrs. Elbury, one of those 'old dears' he was trying to avoid. He crouched to a knee to help her up as she flustered on the floor trying to stuff her belongings back into her sackcloth shopping bag, one of those 'bag for life' deals that every woman over the age of fifty seemed to never be seen without. He was just about to apologise. That was when the explosion hit...
The smoke subsided, Chris's vision cleared a little but was still blurred and his ears were still ringing from the blast. He didn't know what had just happened and tried to stand but his body refused, reacting with agonising pain over his whole body, throbbing and pulsing. He looked around, blinking a few times to help his vision focus more and instantly regretted it as he saw the sight before him. His church, the people he had spent the majority of his life with, even those who he barely knew, all lay there in the scattered ruins of the building, all in various states of injury, dismemberment, some even dead. It was gruesome. Chris thought he was dreaming, that the blast had knocked him unconcious and that this was just a comatose fantasy, but no, the pain in his body was too real. Plus there was the clashing noise. What was that? Could it be blood rushing around his skull? No, it sounded louder, but distant. Chris forced himself to sit up and looked to the sky above. His mind ached, burning as though it would explode from trying to comprehend what he saw above him. Two magnificent figures clad in the finest of armours, one gold, one silver. the gold-clad warrior's skin was an olived tan whilst the other's was pale and marblesque. They were fighting with weapons larger than even Chris himself, and he wasn't exactly a short man. One, the figure in gold, wielded a huge flaming bronze broadsword whilst the pale figure held a wickedly barbed glaive, seemingly crafted from obsidian or onyx or some other black material. Every strike and parry of the weapons resounded with an almighty, thunderous crash and sparks danced through the air. Chris wanted to look away, he wanted to scream, but he was transfixed in awe at the two beings above him. These were angels! He knew immediately! One fallen, one righteous, but angels all the same, and they were fighting! That was the last thing through Chris's mind before he once again slumped into unconciousness. Those beings were fighting, and somehow, he knew they were fighting over him...
So there we have it. I would like to note that this does not reflect my views of either my home or my uni churches as they're both awesome, but sadly, some churches do seem to be this stagnant and need more life in them. This is another story where I'm not honestly sure if i'm going to write more or not, but the only way for you people to find out more is to keep coming back and to keep reading my updates!
Adios for now you lovely lovely peoples!
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