✞10 Days since my Last Confession✞
[✝]Daniel 10:8
So I was left alone to see this grand vision.
I had no strength left in me.
My face turned deathly pale: for my comeliness was turned in me into corruption and I was helpless.[✝]
[‡]It was that dream again. He had been suffering it's harsh visions since the moment he woke up in this Godforsaken place.
Maxwell had fallen into the hands of his enemies, into the depths of Midian, no, Hell itself. All around him were writhing and howling dead things, corpses baying for his blood and clawing towards him with their myriads of decrepit hands outstretched to drag him into the gallows.
He backed up against the glass prism that provided his last hope of sanctuary, and felt his pride tug at him and pose him to scoff and laugh in the demons' faces.
"You stupid abominations! You'll never be able to break this glass!"
Yet he looked and saw, an angel descent out of heaven to send not peace for him... but a sword.
The angel who had been his shepherd to shepherd him looked down upon him with a face of stone, making his final judgment upon the young man who had been his beloved ward, and dubbed him unworthy of salvation.
"AAANNDEERSSOONNN!!!"
For the first time in his life, Maxwell felt true dread in his heart. His last saving grace had turned his back on him in his one moment of glory for their faith... for their God... for... Himself.
He wouldn't have it, he wouldn't go down this way! And as the glass shattered around him and the siege of Satan's minions descended upon him, he lashed to get away and outstretched his hand towards the Angel of Dust who only watched vigil from high above.
"Anderson! ..Anderson!! TEACHER! ... TEACHER PLEASE HELP ME...!! TEACHER!!!"
As he let out his wail of desperation, Death's hungry shadows spilling all around him, Maxwell felt the first pierce of the demons' weapons puncture his side like a skewer through a sow. One after another, pike after pike impaled his flesh, and lifted him as a flailing piece of meat up from the ground, screaming in a vicious agony that was renewed with every last spear.
Raised up on his crucifix, martyred in this Godless land he had called Holy war upon, he cried his lamentations to his Lord.
"You brought me into this world alone... why... why should I have to die alone!?
Teacher!
Tell me why!"[‡]
Teacher!
[☨]Maxwell snapped awake with a start, the camera capturing from the bedside table. His face pale as death, his long hair unbound and matted to his brow, he touched his cheek with a trembling hand to remind himself that he was indeed awake and indeed whole. Pulling away, the salty liquid that smeared his palm was not sweat from some night terror... but..[☨]
How.. how stupid, what is this?
[☨]Tears. An ill sensation crept up on his vanity and swiftly he dried his face with the whites of his sleeve, before he shoved the blankets off of himself. Grabbing his cassock which laid on the nightstand which held the commlink in it's pocket, he whipped it around himself and stormed for the door.
He needed... something. Closure. Something. Whatever the Hell it was he knew Anderson had the answer to it. Walking through the hallway and to the alter, he hoped to find the priest reading in the early morning... yet spied no one there.[☨]
Anderson?
Anderson where are you?
[☨]He took hold of his commlink, looking to track the man down with it after he had finally figured the blasted thing out.. only to find...[☨]
What's with this damned thing? Where's his frequency?
Anderson! Really, I gave back your two-way so we wouldn't have this kind of problem again! Tell me you're not using the silent treatment on me, please? I'm not 12 anymore...
[☨]Maxwell stopped to venture outside then doubled-back to Anderson's quarters, adjacent from his own.[☨]
Anderson I...
[☨]The Archbishop froze at the threshold, seeing the man's room void of everything but the few belongings he would always have on him. Upon his bed was his precious bible, a few bayonets, and... a thin long box, wrapped in holy parchment, with the seal of the 3rd Chapter of Matthew.
The Remnant of a Miracle.[☨]
You.. you wouldn't.. you can't leav--!
[☨]The screen clattered at his feet as he grasped the door-frame, and grimaced to cough furiously into his fist, retching speckles of blood into his palm. At the unseemly sight he scattered from the room, the link timing out as he left it there.[☨]
So I was left alone to see this grand vision.
I had no strength left in me.
My face turned deathly pale: for my comeliness was turned in me into corruption and I was helpless.[✝]
[‡]It was that dream again. He had been suffering it's harsh visions since the moment he woke up in this Godforsaken place.
Maxwell had fallen into the hands of his enemies, into the depths of Midian, no, Hell itself. All around him were writhing and howling dead things, corpses baying for his blood and clawing towards him with their myriads of decrepit hands outstretched to drag him into the gallows.
He backed up against the glass prism that provided his last hope of sanctuary, and felt his pride tug at him and pose him to scoff and laugh in the demons' faces.
"You stupid abominations! You'll never be able to break this glass!"
Yet he looked and saw, an angel descent out of heaven to send not peace for him... but a sword.
The angel who had been his shepherd to shepherd him looked down upon him with a face of stone, making his final judgment upon the young man who had been his beloved ward, and dubbed him unworthy of salvation.
"AAANNDEERSSOONNN!!!"
For the first time in his life, Maxwell felt true dread in his heart. His last saving grace had turned his back on him in his one moment of glory for their faith... for their God... for... Himself.
He wouldn't have it, he wouldn't go down this way! And as the glass shattered around him and the siege of Satan's minions descended upon him, he lashed to get away and outstretched his hand towards the Angel of Dust who only watched vigil from high above.
"Anderson! ..Anderson!! TEACHER! ... TEACHER PLEASE HELP ME...!! TEACHER!!!"
As he let out his wail of desperation, Death's hungry shadows spilling all around him, Maxwell felt the first pierce of the demons' weapons puncture his side like a skewer through a sow. One after another, pike after pike impaled his flesh, and lifted him as a flailing piece of meat up from the ground, screaming in a vicious agony that was renewed with every last spear.
Raised up on his crucifix, martyred in this Godless land he had called Holy war upon, he cried his lamentations to his Lord.
"You brought me into this world alone... why... why should I have to die alone!?
Teacher!
Tell me why!"[‡]
Teacher!
[☨]Maxwell snapped awake with a start, the camera capturing from the bedside table. His face pale as death, his long hair unbound and matted to his brow, he touched his cheek with a trembling hand to remind himself that he was indeed awake and indeed whole. Pulling away, the salty liquid that smeared his palm was not sweat from some night terror... but..[☨]
How.. how stupid, what is this?
[☨]Tears. An ill sensation crept up on his vanity and swiftly he dried his face with the whites of his sleeve, before he shoved the blankets off of himself. Grabbing his cassock which laid on the nightstand which held the commlink in it's pocket, he whipped it around himself and stormed for the door.
He needed... something. Closure. Something. Whatever the Hell it was he knew Anderson had the answer to it. Walking through the hallway and to the alter, he hoped to find the priest reading in the early morning... yet spied no one there.[☨]
Anderson?
Anderson where are you?
[☨]He took hold of his commlink, looking to track the man down with it after he had finally figured the blasted thing out.. only to find...[☨]
What's with this damned thing? Where's his frequency?
Anderson! Really, I gave back your two-way so we wouldn't have this kind of problem again! Tell me you're not using the silent treatment on me, please? I'm not 12 anymore...
[☨]Maxwell stopped to venture outside then doubled-back to Anderson's quarters, adjacent from his own.[☨]
Anderson I...
[☨]The Archbishop froze at the threshold, seeing the man's room void of everything but the few belongings he would always have on him. Upon his bed was his precious bible, a few bayonets, and... a thin long box, wrapped in holy parchment, with the seal of the 3rd Chapter of Matthew.
The Remnant of a Miracle.[☨]
You.. you wouldn't.. you can't leav--!
[☨]The screen clattered at his feet as he grasped the door-frame, and grimaced to cough furiously into his fist, retching speckles of blood into his palm. At the unseemly sight he scattered from the room, the link timing out as he left it there.[☨]