The rain fell in sheets.

It hammered against the stained glass.

The chapel was old.

The stone was cold.

Elias stood in the nave.

He was alone.

His hands shook.

Not from fear.

From cold.

The candles flickered.

The wax pooled on the altar.

It looked like blood.

It looked like tears.

He did not blink.

The air was thick.

It smelled of wet wool.

It smelled of rot.

It smelled of the earth below.

The earth did not sleep.

The earth waited.

Elias had come to pray.

Or perhaps to confess.

The distinction was thin.

The distinction was a knife.

He opened his mouth.

No sound came out.

The silence was heavy.

It pressed on his chest.

It pressed on his mind.

He thought of the garden.

The garden was dead.

The roses were black.

The leaves were gray.

The flowers did not bloom.

They hung their heads.

They died in the bud.

They died in the stem.

They died in the root.

The garden was a mirror.

It showed him his soul.

His soul was withered.

His soul was dry.

His soul was a husk.

The priest came in.

Father Thomas.

He was old.

His face was a map of lines.

His eyes were kind.

But they were tired.

He carried a book.

The book was leather.

The book was worn.

The pages were soft.

He walked to the altar.

He did not look at Elias.

He looked at the candles.

He blew them out.

One by one.

The dark came.

The dark was total.

The dark was complete.

Only the rain remained.

Only the rain spoke.

Elias saw a shape.

It moved in the shadows.

It was small.

It was quick.

It was a bird.

No.

It was not a bird.

It was a shadow.

It had wings.

It had eyes.

The eyes were bright.

The eyes were red.

It circled him.

It did not fly.

It glided.

It was silent.

It was hungry.

Elias felt a chill.

The chill was deep.

The chill was old.

The chill was in his bones.

He knew the creature.

He had seen it before.

In the cellar.

In the dark.

It was the thing he had fed.

It was the thing he had hidden.

It was the thing he had loved.

The thing spoke.

It did not use words.

It used thoughts.

The thoughts were sharp.

The thoughts were cold.

*You are mine.*

*You are mine.*

*You are mine.*

Elias tried to speak.

His voice was gone.

His throat was tight.

His breath was short.

He looked at Father Thomas.

The priest was gone.

The priest had vanished.

Only the book remained.

The book lay on the altar.

The book was open.

The pages turned.

By themselves.

The wind did not blow.

The candles were out.

The rain was silent.

The world was still.

Elias read the words.

The words were simple.

The words were true.

*Justice is a cage.*

*Mercy is a lie.*

*The law is a beast.*

*The beast is hungry.*

*The beast is you.*

Elias felt a laugh.

It came from deep.

It came from the dark.

It was not a laugh.

It was a sob.

It was a scream.

It was a prayer.

He closed the book.

He closed his eyes.

He let the dark in.

He let the pain in.

He let the truth in.

The truth was heavy.

The truth was stone.

The truth was iron.

He carried it.

He had always carried it.

Since the first day.

Since the first lie.

Since the first blood.

The creature was there.

It was beside him.

It was touching him.

Its touch was cold.

Its touch was wet.

It was like rain.

It was like death.

Elias did not run.

He did not fight.

He did not pray.

He simply was.

He was the cage.

He was the key.

He was the lock.

He was the door.

He was the threshold.

He was the distance.

He was the far away.

He was the near.

He was the here.

He was the now.

The rain stopped.

The sun came out.

The light was pale.

The light was weak.

The light was thin.

It touched the stone.

It touched the altar.

It touched the book.

The book was closed.

The pages were still.

The words were gone.

Or perhaps they were everywhere.

Elias opened his eyes.

He saw the garden.

Through the window.

The garden was alive.

The roses were red.

The leaves were green.

The flowers were bright.

The flowers were full.

The flowers were new.

The creature was gone.

The dark was gone.

The cold was gone.

The pain was gone.

The fear was gone.

The guilt was gone.

The shame was gone.

The sin was gone.

The punishment was gone.

The justice was gone.

The mercy was gone.

The truth was gone.

Only the silence remained.

Only the peace remained.

Only the light remained.

Elias walked out.

He walked into the rain.

The rain was warm.

The rain was soft.

The rain was clean.

It washed his face.

It washed his hands.

It washed his soul.

He did not look back.

He did not turn.

He did not remember.

He did not forget.

He did not care.

He did not feel.

He did not exist.

He was the wind.

He was the dust.

He was the leaf.

He was the stone.

He was the water.

He was the fire.

He was the air.

He was the earth.

He was the sky.

He was the sun.

He was the moon.

He was the star.

He was the night.

He was the day.

He was the life.

He was the death.

He was the beginning.

He was the end.

He was the middle.

He was the space between.

He was the distance.

He was the threshold.

He was the door.

He was the key.

He was the lock.

He was the cage.

He was the bird.

He was the chain.

He was the wing.

He was the flight.

He was the fall.

He was the ground.

He was the root.

He was the stem.

He was the leaf.

He was the flower.

He was the fruit.

He was the seed.

He was the dirt.

He was the worm.

He was the rot.

He was the growth.

He was the cycle.

He was the turn.

He was the wheel.

He was the spin.

He was the dance.

He was the song.

He was the note.

He was the rest.

He was the beat.

He was the time.

He was the moment.

He was the instant.

He was the eternity.

He was the nothing.

He was the everything.

He was the one.

He was the many.

He was the self.

He was the other.

He was the same.

He was the different.

He was the here.

He was the there.

He was the then.

He was the now.

He was the always.

He was the never.

He was the ever.

He was the nevermore.

He was the silence.

He was the sound.

He was the voice.

He was the whisper.

He was the shout.

He was the cry.

He was the laugh.

He was the tear.

He was the blood.

He was the sweat.

He was the breath.

He was the heart.

He was the mind.

He was the spirit.

He was the soul.

He was the body.

He was the flesh.

He was the bone.

He was the sinew.

He was the nerve.

He was the muscle.

He was the skin.

He was the hair.

He was the nail.

He was the tooth.

He was the eye.

He was the ear.

He was the nose.

He was the mouth.

He was the tongue.

He was the lip.

He was the cheek.

He was the chin.

He was the jaw.

He was the neck.

He was the shoulder.

He was the arm.

He was the hand.

He was the finger.

He was the thumb.

He was the palm.

He was the wrist.

He was the elbow.

He was the knee.

He was the leg.

He was the foot.

He was the heel.

He was the toe.

He was the sole.

He was the arch.

He was the step.

He was the stride.

He was the walk.

He was the run.

He was the jump.

He was the fall.

He was the rise.

He was the stand.

He was the sit.

He was the lie.

He was the sleep.

He was the wake.

He was the dream.

He was the nightmare.

He was the vision.

He was the hallucination.

He was the reality.

He was the truth.

He was the lie.

He was the fact.

He was the fiction.

He was the story.

He was the tale.

He was the myth.

He was the legend.

He was the history.

He was the memory.

He was the forgetting.

He was the remembering.

He was the knowing.

He was the not knowing.

He was the understanding.

He was the not understanding.

He was the accepting.

He was the rejecting.

He was the loving.

He was the hating.

He was the fearing.

He was the hoping.

He was the wishing.

He was the wanting.

He was the needing.

He was the having.

He was the losing.

He was the finding.

He was the seeking.

He was the seeking.

He was the seeking.

The rain stopped.

The sun shone.

The garden bloomed.

The bird flew.

The shadow faded.

The dark lifted.

The light returned.

The peace came.

The silence held.

The world turned.

The wheel spun.

The dance continued.

The song played.

The note rang.

The rest fell.

The time passed.

The moment held.

The instant lasted.

The eternity stretched.

The nothing was.

The everything was.

The one was.

The many were.

The self was.

The other was.

The same was.

The different was.

The here was.

The there was.

The then was.

The now was.

The always was.

The never was.

The ever was.

The nevermore was.

The silence was.

The sound was.

The voice was.

The whisper was.

The shout was.

The cry was.

The laugh was.

The tear was.

The blood was.

The sweat was.

The breath was.

The heart was.

The mind was.

The spirit was.

The soul was.

The body was.

The flesh was.

The bone was.

The sinew was.

The nerve was.

The muscle was.

The skin was.

The hair was.

The nail was.

The tooth was.

The eye was.

The ear was.

The nose was.

The mouth was.

The tongue was.

The lip was.

The cheek was.

The chin was.

The jaw was.

The neck was.

The shoulder was.

The arm was.

The hand was.

The finger was.

The thumb was.

The palm was.

The wrist was.

The elbow was.

The knee was.

The leg was.

The foot was.

The heel was.

The toe was.

The sole was.

The arch was.

The step was.

The stride was.

The walk was.

The run was.

The jump was.

The fall was.

The rise was.

The stand was.

The sit was.

The lie was.

The sleep was.

The wake was.

The dream was.

The nightmare was.

The vision was.

The hallucination was.

The reality was.

The truth was.

The lie was.

The fact was.

The fiction was.

The story was.

The tale was.

The myth was.

The legend was.

The history was.

The memory was.

The forgetting was.

The remembering was.

The knowing was.

The not knowing was.

The understanding was.

The not understanding was.

The accepting was.

The rejecting was.

The loving was.

The hating was.

The fearing was.

The hoping was.

The wishing was.

The wanting was.

The needing was.

The having was.

The losing was.

The finding was.

The seeking was.

The seeking was.

The seeking was.