Screaming in Cathedrals
By Tabitha Lambert
She felt she was being followed as she walked hurriedly through the cold city streets. In the back of her mind she knew it to be the rampant paranoia of a guilty soul, but she couldn't shake it nonetheless. Every building towering above her like a monolith, their empty windows staring down at her, following her every nervous move. She felt their hollow stare, condemning her for her crimes. Tears that had finally dried started to fill her eyes once again. This inorganic persecution, this almighty pressure bearing down on her, she could barely see for the guilt it brought out in her. She quickened her pace until she was nearly sprinting down the street. There were few people walking the crumbled sidewalks at this time of night, but she felt that those who she did come across knew her secret, her terrible secret that was tearing and devouring her from the inside. She felt their eyes follow her, condemning her as the very buildings did. Shame and hatred in every eye. She had to reach the church.
She shakily rounded a corner, shouldering one man onto the cement sidewalk. She uttered a noncommittal apology. She hadn't the time to bother with such accidents when she had committed more grievous sins. She blinked away the flood of tears to see, and see she did. There ahead was to subject of her fevered search. St. Nicholas of Myra, the cathedral that she had visited as a child and would once again visit in her hour of most terrible need. She stopped only to take a breath then bolted for the church's concrete steps. She prayed frantically in her head that the doors would be open, that by some miracle she would be admitted to beg for forgiveness.
She had been moving so fast that she hadn't time to stop before she hit the large wooden doors. She felt the pain of the impact, but knew full well that she deserved any pain and suffering for the acts she had committed. She hastily reached for the cold metal of the handle. Pressing her thumb down, she nearly fainted of shock when she heard a rough click and she heaved the door open. As she ran into the hallowed darkness of the sanctuary, her breathing echoing just as loud as her footfalls, the one thought running through her head was forgive me.
She ran blindly to the front of the room, nearly knocking over the altar where the prayer candles were set. She reached for the matches, her numb fingers dropping several before she finally gripped one. She struck it upon the wooden altar in her haste, the small flame shedding little light within the massive sanctuary. Her hand shook as she guided it towards a random votive, careful not to let it blow out. When the small candle was lit, she shook her hand vigorously, in turn shaking out the small flame eating away at the matchstick. She didn't notice that she had dropped it when she took a step back, bowed her head and crossed herself.
Head, chest, right, left.
"In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost. Amen."
When she then looked up, she was fixated by the small flame that stood do boldly against the darkness, the purity of the flame. She found herself contemplating the purifying qualities of fire. Lord, purify my heart. Burn it clean of sin. And at that moment she remembered what she had done, the act that had compelled her to come to this sacred place for redemption. She brought her still shaking hands to her face, and the pale light of her candle she saw the proof of her transgression. Her hands were covered in blood. Once again she felt the pressure of being watched. Like the solemn statues of the saints that lined the walls were suddenly staring her down. Once again those empty eyes were condemning her. She finally collapsed under her guilt, sobbing uncontrollably as she rocked back and forth on her knees. In her hysteria she began to pray, something she hadn't done since she was a child, but the words came back to her as if she had never turned her back on the church.
"O Merciful Father, I am guilty of sin." Her voice cracked, her throat contracting in her grief. Her tears seeping out from beneath her eyelids as she spoke. "I confess my sins before you and I am sorry for them. Your promises are just; therefore I trust that you will forgive me my sins and cleanse me from every stain of sin." She quickened the pace of her rocking, her hoarse, grief-stricken voice getting louder as she continued. "Jesus himself is the proposition for my sins and those of the whole world. I put my hope in his atonement. May my sins be forgiven through his name, and in his blood may my soul be made clean. Amen."
Her cries became fevered and tortured as she screamed unto God to forgive her of her mortal sins.
"O Merciful Father, I am guilty! I confess my sins before you and I am sorry for them. O Merciful Father, I am Guilty! I confess my sins before you and I am sorry for them!" was her mantra. She began to heave in her small ritual, as if the accusatory glares of the saints and the Crucified Christ where compelling her body to vomit up her sin. If only that where the case, then she would finally be free of this guilt.
"O Merciful Father, I am guilty!" she screamed at the top of her lungs while staring back at Christ. His eyes were no longer disapproving of her, but sad. Full of a sorrow that only a divine being could burden. She was gasping for breath, having stopped her fervent prayer. The sanctuary seemed to breathe with her, as if it too had felt her pain and anguish in letting lose her guilt. And those eyes, those eyes were afflicted so. Was he judging her? Was she now free of her guilt? Or was she now condemned to a fiery eternity?
The darkness, if it hadn't been oppressive enough during her confession, began to creep closer as if it were a living thing, a monstrous entity, a demon's pet, come to take her away to its master. She looked at the shadows as they moved. They danced and writhed, melting together to form one single being. Then before her there stood a massive creature that loosely resembled a wolf. Its greasy black fur shone with its own unholy light as its red eyes bore into hers. It smiled down at her, its teeth covered in the blood of the damned. A shrill scream escaped her throat as she scurried backwards to get away from this monster. She could hear her heart pound in her ears, like the sound of drums. She looked around her frantically for anyone that would help her. She pleaded with the stone saints that lined the walls, but watched in utter horror as they turned their backs on her, one after the other. Her screams were becoming louder, more crazed with each passing moment. She crawled towards the altar, the drums in her ears and the Hell Hound behind her. She looked up into the eyes of Jesus to beg of his forgiveness, but his eyes were closed, his head turned to the side. She had been forsaken. God had judged her unforgivable of her crimes.
She turned around to face the Reaper, the Hound of Hell. It's radiant eyes shone with an unnatural fire as it stared at her, still smiling.
"I am Forsaken." She whispered as the drums faded into the distance. And the hound jerked forward, running at the woman who had given up hope and accepted her judgment. She fell to her knees as the giant dog of Hell bore down on her, its jaws open wide.
In the morning, when the first priest came into the sanctuary, he found the woman there lying on the floor, her arms wrapped around herself and her knees neatly curled up to her chest. He ran to her side and finding that her eyes were wide open he tried to speak to her, but her only response was a soft whisper.
"I am Forsaken. Hells jaws gaping wide. I am Forsaken. Hells jaws gaping wide." She said over and over.
She was still uttering those very words when she was gently put on a stretcher and was slid into the back of the ambulance.
She felt she was being followed as she walked hurriedly through the cold city streets. In the back of her mind she knew it to be the rampant paranoia of a guilty soul, but she couldn't shake it nonetheless. Every building towering above her like a monolith, their empty windows staring down at her, following her every nervous move. She felt their hollow stare, condemning her for her crimes. Tears that had finally dried started to fill her eyes once again. This inorganic persecution, this almighty pressure bearing down on her, she could barely see for the guilt it brought out in her. She quickened her pace until she was nearly sprinting down the street. There were few people walking the crumbled sidewalks at this time of night, but she felt that those who she did come across knew her secret, her terrible secret that was tearing and devouring her from the inside. She felt their eyes follow her, condemning her as the very buildings did. Shame and hatred in every eye. She had to reach the church.
She shakily rounded a corner, shouldering one man onto the cement sidewalk. She uttered a noncommittal apology. She hadn't the time to bother with such accidents when she had committed more grievous sins. She blinked away the flood of tears to see, and see she did. There ahead was to subject of her fevered search. St. Nicholas of Myra, the cathedral that she had visited as a child and would once again visit in her hour of most terrible need. She stopped only to take a breath then bolted for the church's concrete steps. She prayed frantically in her head that the doors would be open, that by some miracle she would be admitted to beg for forgiveness.
She had been moving so fast that she hadn't time to stop before she hit the large wooden doors. She felt the pain of the impact, but knew full well that she deserved any pain and suffering for the acts she had committed. She hastily reached for the cold metal of the handle. Pressing her thumb down, she nearly fainted of shock when she heard a rough click and she heaved the door open. As she ran into the hallowed darkness of the sanctuary, her breathing echoing just as loud as her footfalls, the one thought running through her head was forgive me.
She ran blindly to the front of the room, nearly knocking over the altar where the prayer candles were set. She reached for the matches, her numb fingers dropping several before she finally gripped one. She struck it upon the wooden altar in her haste, the small flame shedding little light within the massive sanctuary. Her hand shook as she guided it towards a random votive, careful not to let it blow out. When the small candle was lit, she shook her hand vigorously, in turn shaking out the small flame eating away at the matchstick. She didn't notice that she had dropped it when she took a step back, bowed her head and crossed herself.
Head, chest, right, left.
"In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost. Amen."
When she then looked up, she was fixated by the small flame that stood do boldly against the darkness, the purity of the flame. She found herself contemplating the purifying qualities of fire. Lord, purify my heart. Burn it clean of sin. And at that moment she remembered what she had done, the act that had compelled her to come to this sacred place for redemption. She brought her still shaking hands to her face, and the pale light of her candle she saw the proof of her transgression. Her hands were covered in blood. Once again she felt the pressure of being watched. Like the solemn statues of the saints that lined the walls were suddenly staring her down. Once again those empty eyes were condemning her. She finally collapsed under her guilt, sobbing uncontrollably as she rocked back and forth on her knees. In her hysteria she began to pray, something she hadn't done since she was a child, but the words came back to her as if she had never turned her back on the church.
"O Merciful Father, I am guilty of sin." Her voice cracked, her throat contracting in her grief. Her tears seeping out from beneath her eyelids as she spoke. "I confess my sins before you and I am sorry for them. Your promises are just; therefore I trust that you will forgive me my sins and cleanse me from every stain of sin." She quickened the pace of her rocking, her hoarse, grief-stricken voice getting louder as she continued. "Jesus himself is the proposition for my sins and those of the whole world. I put my hope in his atonement. May my sins be forgiven through his name, and in his blood may my soul be made clean. Amen."
Her cries became fevered and tortured as she screamed unto God to forgive her of her mortal sins.
"O Merciful Father, I am guilty! I confess my sins before you and I am sorry for them. O Merciful Father, I am Guilty! I confess my sins before you and I am sorry for them!" was her mantra. She began to heave in her small ritual, as if the accusatory glares of the saints and the Crucified Christ where compelling her body to vomit up her sin. If only that where the case, then she would finally be free of this guilt.
"O Merciful Father, I am guilty!" she screamed at the top of her lungs while staring back at Christ. His eyes were no longer disapproving of her, but sad. Full of a sorrow that only a divine being could burden. She was gasping for breath, having stopped her fervent prayer. The sanctuary seemed to breathe with her, as if it too had felt her pain and anguish in letting lose her guilt. And those eyes, those eyes were afflicted so. Was he judging her? Was she now free of her guilt? Or was she now condemned to a fiery eternity?
The darkness, if it hadn't been oppressive enough during her confession, began to creep closer as if it were a living thing, a monstrous entity, a demon's pet, come to take her away to its master. She looked at the shadows as they moved. They danced and writhed, melting together to form one single being. Then before her there stood a massive creature that loosely resembled a wolf. Its greasy black fur shone with its own unholy light as its red eyes bore into hers. It smiled down at her, its teeth covered in the blood of the damned. A shrill scream escaped her throat as she scurried backwards to get away from this monster. She could hear her heart pound in her ears, like the sound of drums. She looked around her frantically for anyone that would help her. She pleaded with the stone saints that lined the walls, but watched in utter horror as they turned their backs on her, one after the other. Her screams were becoming louder, more crazed with each passing moment. She crawled towards the altar, the drums in her ears and the Hell Hound behind her. She looked up into the eyes of Jesus to beg of his forgiveness, but his eyes were closed, his head turned to the side. She had been forsaken. God had judged her unforgivable of her crimes.
She turned around to face the Reaper, the Hound of Hell. It's radiant eyes shone with an unnatural fire as it stared at her, still smiling.
"I am Forsaken." She whispered as the drums faded into the distance. And the hound jerked forward, running at the woman who had given up hope and accepted her judgment. She fell to her knees as the giant dog of Hell bore down on her, its jaws open wide.
In the morning, when the first priest came into the sanctuary, he found the woman there lying on the floor, her arms wrapped around herself and her knees neatly curled up to her chest. He ran to her side and finding that her eyes were wide open he tried to speak to her, but her only response was a soft whisper.
"I am Forsaken. Hells jaws gaping wide. I am Forsaken. Hells jaws gaping wide." She said over and over.
She was still uttering those very words when she was gently put on a stretcher and was slid into the back of the ambulance.