Father Branson

He saw the great church jutting up on the horizon. Long abandoned and in disrepair, its dilapidated bell tower bit into the gray sky like a rotten tooth. As if in recognition of his presence, the broken bell high in the church belfry slowly rang. Dong.. Dong... Dong.. Its peals slow and out of tune hung unnaturally in the air sending a shiver down his spine. The sound of the bell seemed to compress the air around him making the very atmosphere breathe. His knees weakened. He knew the church was empty unused for well on fifty years. But yet the bell rang; its rotten ropes pulled by things unknown.

Unconsciously his hand grasped the crucifix that hung around his neck covered by his tunic. The symbol of the suffering of his savior and the wellspring of his faith. His eyes unable to pierce the shadowy gloom of the belfry, he walked forward towards a church that was the resting place of the damned.

Posted by Pernicious at November 1, 2007 11:41 PM

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