heaven help me

the church isn't safe anymore. father wilson isn't safe anymore. nothing is safe.

it used to be once. it was last monday at the sermon. it was safe, and holy, and i felt the LORD's light upon my soul, and i knew i was safe. that the LORD held me close, in HIS flock, and i was tended to.

not anymore.

i went today as i always do to pray forgiveness, pray for protection from that damned Watchdog that follows me, baying at my heels, snarling in my nightmares. i went today to speak with father wilson, for he is a Holy Man, and closer to the LORD than this poor sinner. i walked into the chapel, and found it empty, so empty... no feeling of closeness with the LORD Our God, no openness. as if the whole of the Holy Spirit had fled the place, leaving it hollow as the chrysalis of a dead thing. there was no warmth or light in this chapel, no, none - not even from the overhead lights or windows, not even from where father wilson should have been. it was as if a strange night had fallen, with strange moons and stars, as if part of a reality not of our earth.

"hello?" i called, treading between the pews lightly, feeling so very alone in this dark, dim shell of what once was a place of holy worship. "father wilson?"

there was no reply, save my own echoes. at least at first.

"father, please... do you have a moment? are you here?"

my words echoed off the walls, caught in the shadows, and i was given the faint rumblings of a familiar voice in reply.

Hast Thou Come To Give False Repentance, Sinner...?

i only recall looking up in startled shock at the voice, the voice from my dreams, the voice of the terrible Azrael, and was horrified to find him. i wish it were an illusion, LORD above do i wish, but no... it was Azrael, sitting upon the overturned pulpit that had been dismantled to serve as his splintered throne, with the Watchdog chained and settled at his feet, glaring at me with its many twitching, red eyes. the crucified figure of Christ on his cross looking down from above them with anguished, pained eyes, as if horrified at the sight of this blasphemy. i could scarcely bear to look upon that dark angel, with his blank and pallid mask of porcelain and his wings like tattered cloaks, but look i did, meeting his awful gaze with a dreadful fear.

Well? Hast Thou?

 "yes..."

he tilted his head in half-amusement, the mask tilting with it, and scrutinized me deeply, darkly. then, after a silence that seemed like forever, he spoke again, voice booming and echoing about the walls like a clap of thunder.

Liar... Sinner!

his hand, skeletal as death, came down in a fist upon the arm of the wooden throne, splintering it as it landed, and i quailed in fear. around me, the walls began to melt and warp and catch fire, and the figure of Christ became an unholy, tortured, distorted caricature of itself... writhing and screaming in torturous pain as his eyes melted from their sockets and his jaw dislocated, bleeding profusely from so many cuts, bits of his flesh rotting away to nothing...

How Darest Thou Come To Me, Only To Blaspheme Before The LORD? Sinning Hog Of War, Thou Hast Made Thy Choice! Thou Shalt Never Be Forgiven! Never! Never!

i don't recall much after that, i just remember running, and running, and running as the church became hell around me and the growling of the Watchdog resounded at my heels... i ran and i ran to my car, and locked all of the doors as the Watchdog began to... i just... i...

i can't do this anymore. i need to find somewhere safe. anywhere safe. anywhere they won't find me, where i can atone to the LORD in peace, and beg mercy and forgiveness for this poor sinner. LORD, please, why have you forsaken your child? what have i done to earn such wrath? please, LORD, help me.

someone help me.