Into the Dark

He bowed his head politely and muttered the refrain he had grown up knowing. The small church vibrated with the sound of dull voices, speaking in unison, promises and prayers. Davin had not been a particularly religious person in sometime, but he still tried to live his life the best that he could. Part of that included making his parents happy by bowing to their wishes. Oh, they did not know much of the anger that boiled deep with in, slowly simmering and gathering pressure. He would lash out one day, but he would wait as long as he could and until he was safely cut off from the world and alone with his mystery. That was just the way it. He had to pretend that everything was just dandy because it would take more to try to get others to understand. Not that they necessarily ever would. There was still hope however, lock deep down in his chest. He would not be alive if there was not, much less at church.

He looked up, through his dark brown bangs that he may be able to save from his mother for just a little longer. His hair never grew to be as long as he wanted it to be, but he managed to get away with it coming down to reach his shoulders and hanging in front of his pale blue eyes. Those eyes stared up at the crucifix fixed above the priest's seat. He had never liked crucifixes, never since his eighth grade teacher went in to detail with his religion class as to just how a crucifix killed a person, and how it was designed to be as painful as was conceivably possible. Jesus Christ suffocated to death. He did not die from the agony of his wounds or the blood he had lost, but because he could not hold himself up, and consequently crushed his lungs with his own weight. Blue eyes darted away to star dully at the green and yellow stain-glass windows.  He had never liked crucifixes.

His mind was begging for realize from all the garniture and formalities he always submitted to, but he knew there was nothing he could do. He wondered idly if the crucifix on the wall represented the Christ as having nails driven through his hands or his wrists.  He glanced back at it carefully, narrowing his eyes, wondering if he would be able to tell from this distance. It did not matter terribly much, yet on the other hand it did seem to mean something to him. After all, why create something such as a crucifix if you had not intention of being accurate. It did not make sense to him, but confusing was a way of being for him, a way of living.

Davin tore his eyes away from the gruesome representation and went back to staring blankly at the stained glass windows of the church. He wanted to go home.

Suddenly the room began to spin, or to feel like it was. Davin reached out hastily to grab hold of the pew in front of him. He tried to even his breathing. This had happened before, he just had to remain calm. It was nerves, that was all. He was too tense about school, and about his homework, and about his friends. He just needed to relax and it would pass. But it did not. He felt as if the floor sank out from under him, but he was still standing. The room seemed to fade, the colors and the people in it blurring out of his vision until they were shadowy masses.

"Mother....Father...." He whispered weakly, feeling himself slip from reality. No one answered.

He was standing in the church alone. And the walls were bleeding. Thick smooth crimson leaked down the gray wooden walls, and seeped across the carpet to him. He shuddered and stepped back. Something crunched under foot, and he almost fell. He looked down, and under his foot were the remains of a crushed pure white skull.

"...Oh my god." He stumbled backward stepping on more bones. He turned and looked about the church widely. Bones! Everywhere! He tried to scream, but no sound came out, then he tripped once more over the human remains and began to fall. By now the blood had pooled around him, and the floor rushed up to greet him, the blood held out its hand to catch him and devour him. He felt its cold touch like ice pricking all of his skin and he tried to scream once more, but when he opened his mouth the blood rushed in, and he felt himself gag.

Suddenly cold hands like death held on to his shoulders on either side. Davin stiffened at once, relieved to have the consuming feeling from before gone, but almost more afraid by the squeezing pressure that threatened to break his arms. He opened his eyes slowly, and stared back at glowing green orbs. The eyes before him smiled.

"Dear lord!"

"What happened?"


"He just fell down!"

"Somebody call an ambulance, he's bleeding!"


"Pick him up before he hurts himself again."

"Oh god, he's unconscious!"


"Try to stop the bleeding."