And under the breath of day, there was no light in our plaster halls. All leant to a dreary splurge of blackness that hollowed out even the echoes of fading screams. The face of God lay shattered on the stone; slick marble stone where the soles of priests and ministers once touched. Crooked in an unseen age came a lithe figure, in which stood to a hunched over height, blocking the features of a splintered wooden cross, where it’s palms had been morbidly split in half, and petite strings of scarlet veins hung in the dark where it prowled. Thick, rusted iron stakes were still crunched through it’s bone, and oxidized, brown barbed wire rung loosely on the unmistakably, unnatural frame. When it broke a grin, as difficult as it was its gums were stabbed with needles, tips of knives, and sawed and filed bone that had been yellowed with age.

The cracked and somewhat broken and run down stained glass shone slivers of pale light to elaborate upon its sullen, drooping face. Black, scabbed lips upturned around it’s gums further, as it licked the face of the fallen God with a single, thin coal black tongue, split and pierced ‘round at the tips. Its eyes bore somewhat hollow now, as it raised it’s cracked, bony fingers towards the faded, chipped mural illuminated just enough from the window’s cracks and creases. The torn, feathered tail of the remainder of an ashen black overcoat dragged like a lost dog behind its nail and staple bound, bare feet. Its skin was rounded in stitches, and its ragged dark hair blanketed over it’s poorly sewn over sockets. Running two fingers over its own, smooth white face, it split its tongue around the tendrils of fingers and bowed its head in appreciation to someone, or something that was never noted. As it rounded the main hall, it’s loafing, marionette steps, cracked with its knees, and it grabbed for the bloodied cross unhinged and leaning halfway over to the right, and leaned up against it for support, so that its almost un-useable legs would not break beneath it. All felt grey-scale in the presence of one so dispersed from any faith.

Rickety, its jaw clacked as it paced aimlessly about. It groaned. And oh, such a groan of horror this was! Unable to be fathomed into words, the vocallation rang through the ceramic ears of cherubs which were vandalized in such a manner, with a single bristle paint brush, scrawled in an obscenely scratchy script. Etched over one eye, where dry, brick red blood froze in drips down its cheek, was a deep cross that shot off of both sides of the socket with a quartet of arrowed points, and when a chatter of gooey white maggots raced down upon its tight skin, they toppled onto the ground, only to be splattered by it’s heavy feet.

Dangling from the ceiling were the crude, naked bodies of men, though feasts of many decades had been produced from these. Innards hung from the torn open stomachs and pulled open ribs, where hearts, intestines, and stomachs were missing. The black eyes drew upon this; barbed wire coiled in a vice grip, encircled around each neck; dusting the throats with blood. The figure caressed and massaged the leg of one of the victims, delighting in the delectable feast of Human wine.