Heavy As A Stone [Complete]
Characters: Odd Thomas, Garnet til Alexandros.
Content: After coming home to the cathedral, Odd has come to terms with the fact that he’s more or less lost his faith despite holding strong to his beliefs for so long.
Location: St. Patrick’s Cathedral.
Time of day: Late morning.
Warnings: Blasphemy and an unusual display of vandalism.
See you in Service.
Those words were like a mantra playing out in his own mind: I’ll see you in Service. Like a bitter promise. Two days did not hold any bright prospects for him. It was still hurting. Something was still stabbing him deep inside and he couldn’t place it.
I’m empty, too. Those words rang in his head as well. The horror of having said them came out shocking, even to Odd when he had spoken them to Garnet, until he realized the cold truth behind them. He was empty. And this place was the only thing that had once filled that void.
Mac called for help, but Odd didn’t see the point. This place was a mess. Odd was a mess. Everything had just fallen apart and no matter how many times he tried picking up the pieces again, it was just one thing after another after another. Another thing he couldn’t get out of his head, make himself forget. I’ll see you in Service. I’ll see you in Service. I’ll see you in...
He won’t. That was the thing.
Regardless, Odd did what he could to help fix the aftermath of the previous attack, wrought by the Mama Grande herself and her newest little friend. He hammered things that had fallen from the walls, bringing boards back up so that he could climb to get to the roof again. Hammering idly, putting things back together. Here goes there, there goes here. All of the little things that had fallen apart since they first started to live here. His thoughts were so wrapped up in other things that he could barely hear the hammering into the nail upon the very wall.
Odd could have chosen to die that day. He didn’t. In spite of his decisions, his drive to live, others chose death. They chose to disappear. Isn’t that what Sunderland had wanted? Didn’t Ginger want to feel like she wasn’t alone? Didn’t that contradict the things they had told him...?
What would Stormy had thought, if she could see him now? Like this, pitying himself. They wouldn’t want to see us like this. He knew that. He knew. He also couldn’t escape this horrible feeling of abandonment.
Why do they go? Why do they get to go Invisible and leave him behind?
Invisible. That was something Odd hadn’t thought of in awhile. A friend back at home used to tell him that. Don’t you go invisible on me, Odd Thomas. Don’t die, Odd Thomas.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t-
“Aaah!”
The tool dropped as Odd stepped back towards the pews. The hammer missed, smashing into the back of his hand. He yelled, clutching his hand that was now bleeding from having the nail scrape into it and bruised from the hammer’s blow. He hissed in pain as he held it up to his chest, nursing it not-so tenderly in his grip as he held it close. He stumbled back, at first trying to find a place to sit only his knees gave out and he wasn’t watching where he was going. He bumped his calf against one of the pews, stubbed his foot. He could feel it bleed on the inside. All the while the pain rang in a monotonous echo in his skull that rang on and on.
i’m so sorry what happened to Stormy i’m so sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry
Odd did not bring himself to sit before he fell to his knees on the floor, keeping his hold of the hurt and now twisted hand, no thanks to the hammer. He hissed, breathed in, breathed out, breathing a kind of undertone whine in his voice as the pain intensified. Tears welled but they didn’t let out, but bleared his vision and that only made things worse.
Slowly, Odd looked up at the Lady Altar before him, burnt out candles and as majestic as ever, even after living through one too many attacks. One of the hanging crosses of Jesus Christ hung up on the wall.
That face. Bore down on him, with His crowned head adorned with the thorns.
Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe...
Odd sucked in a breath. He did not breathe out.
With all the things she had been through, in all her solid wisdom and pain that life had brought her, Stormy had such a love-hate relationship with God. Now all Odd could do was feel the hate part.
“You... son of a bitch!”
Couldn’t lift the pews, but there was a chair nearby that Odd seized, hoisted up and sent a sideways hurl. The projectile swung in the air was it knocked a dent in the wall, chipping the decrepit Jesus figure.
The hatred was intoxicating. The pain in his hand only fueled that rage which boiled his blood, and pumped as his words shot out even while in this House of the Holy. Staring, glaring, screaming in the very face of the Holy. “Why don’t you come down from there instead of letting all of this happen, huh? If you cared so damned much, why don’t you come down here and take care of what you started? You’re supposed to be so holy and wise and then you forsake us here. In this place.”
There were many things on the altar. The candles. The glass. The objects of the cathedral. All meaningless things when you get down to it. The anger boiled as he swept through them, clearing the top of the burnt candles and yelled. Tore down from the walls that he had begun to fix. Grabbed one of the altar things and started smashing the priceless, so priceless, all the cathedral possessions. Whatever was left that this damn city had yet to claim, Odd Thomas reaped.
“IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT, FUCKING STOP ME.” Smash. “TELL ME THAT I’M WRONG.” Beat. “GET IT OVER WITH, YOU SON OF A BITCH.” Break. “STOP JERKING ME AROUND AND TAKE ME.”
He was beginning to see now. That part of the hate that Stormy had so passionately held. And it enraged him. He could barely see, think. Only destroy that which was before him. Insanity took hold. For a brief moment that extended. He didn’t know how long. It just let out and, God help him, this wasn’t healthy.
Things were smashed, clattered, glass and wood scattered everywhere in the cathedral nave that Odd had spent so long before cleaning. Now all a waste. And in the end Odd was left with exhaustion. His chest hurt. More than ever. His throat sore. His body gave out. His knees wouldn’t hold him anymore. He trembled and dropped. Right there. Hands and knees before the broken alter. In the dead center of the place. The heart. For his own had shattered.
Forsaken. And he felt alone.
Thankfully the cathedral was so empty, empty to have seen this new sight. How in all the time that Odd had been here, despite everything, he had kept his faith. He kept hope. Love was the answer. But now, it seemed like a joke. Everything was just a big game and now he was beginning to see that. Lilia was gone, Harry was gone, Cheryl was gone, Maria was gone, and all of them might as well have gone invisible, too. It was only a matter of time.
Content: After coming home to the cathedral, Odd has come to terms with the fact that he’s more or less lost his faith despite holding strong to his beliefs for so long.
Location: St. Patrick’s Cathedral.
Time of day: Late morning.
Warnings: Blasphemy and an unusual display of vandalism.
See you in Service.
Those words were like a mantra playing out in his own mind: I’ll see you in Service. Like a bitter promise. Two days did not hold any bright prospects for him. It was still hurting. Something was still stabbing him deep inside and he couldn’t place it.
I’m empty, too. Those words rang in his head as well. The horror of having said them came out shocking, even to Odd when he had spoken them to Garnet, until he realized the cold truth behind them. He was empty. And this place was the only thing that had once filled that void.
Mac called for help, but Odd didn’t see the point. This place was a mess. Odd was a mess. Everything had just fallen apart and no matter how many times he tried picking up the pieces again, it was just one thing after another after another. Another thing he couldn’t get out of his head, make himself forget. I’ll see you in Service. I’ll see you in Service. I’ll see you in...
He won’t. That was the thing.
Regardless, Odd did what he could to help fix the aftermath of the previous attack, wrought by the Mama Grande herself and her newest little friend. He hammered things that had fallen from the walls, bringing boards back up so that he could climb to get to the roof again. Hammering idly, putting things back together. Here goes there, there goes here. All of the little things that had fallen apart since they first started to live here. His thoughts were so wrapped up in other things that he could barely hear the hammering into the nail upon the very wall.
Odd could have chosen to die that day. He didn’t. In spite of his decisions, his drive to live, others chose death. They chose to disappear. Isn’t that what Sunderland had wanted? Didn’t Ginger want to feel like she wasn’t alone? Didn’t that contradict the things they had told him...?
What would Stormy had thought, if she could see him now? Like this, pitying himself. They wouldn’t want to see us like this. He knew that. He knew. He also couldn’t escape this horrible feeling of abandonment.
Why do they go? Why do they get to go Invisible and leave him behind?
Invisible. That was something Odd hadn’t thought of in awhile. A friend back at home used to tell him that. Don’t you go invisible on me, Odd Thomas. Don’t die, Odd Thomas.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t-
“Aaah!”
The tool dropped as Odd stepped back towards the pews. The hammer missed, smashing into the back of his hand. He yelled, clutching his hand that was now bleeding from having the nail scrape into it and bruised from the hammer’s blow. He hissed in pain as he held it up to his chest, nursing it not-so tenderly in his grip as he held it close. He stumbled back, at first trying to find a place to sit only his knees gave out and he wasn’t watching where he was going. He bumped his calf against one of the pews, stubbed his foot. He could feel it bleed on the inside. All the while the pain rang in a monotonous echo in his skull that rang on and on.
i’m so sorry what happened to Stormy i’m so sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry i’m so sorry
Odd did not bring himself to sit before he fell to his knees on the floor, keeping his hold of the hurt and now twisted hand, no thanks to the hammer. He hissed, breathed in, breathed out, breathing a kind of undertone whine in his voice as the pain intensified. Tears welled but they didn’t let out, but bleared his vision and that only made things worse.
Slowly, Odd looked up at the Lady Altar before him, burnt out candles and as majestic as ever, even after living through one too many attacks. One of the hanging crosses of Jesus Christ hung up on the wall.
That face. Bore down on him, with His crowned head adorned with the thorns.
Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe...
Odd sucked in a breath. He did not breathe out.
With all the things she had been through, in all her solid wisdom and pain that life had brought her, Stormy had such a love-hate relationship with God. Now all Odd could do was feel the hate part.
“You... son of a bitch!”
Couldn’t lift the pews, but there was a chair nearby that Odd seized, hoisted up and sent a sideways hurl. The projectile swung in the air was it knocked a dent in the wall, chipping the decrepit Jesus figure.
The hatred was intoxicating. The pain in his hand only fueled that rage which boiled his blood, and pumped as his words shot out even while in this House of the Holy. Staring, glaring, screaming in the very face of the Holy. “Why don’t you come down from there instead of letting all of this happen, huh? If you cared so damned much, why don’t you come down here and take care of what you started? You’re supposed to be so holy and wise and then you forsake us here. In this place.”
There were many things on the altar. The candles. The glass. The objects of the cathedral. All meaningless things when you get down to it. The anger boiled as he swept through them, clearing the top of the burnt candles and yelled. Tore down from the walls that he had begun to fix. Grabbed one of the altar things and started smashing the priceless, so priceless, all the cathedral possessions. Whatever was left that this damn city had yet to claim, Odd Thomas reaped.
“IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT, FUCKING STOP ME.” Smash. “TELL ME THAT I’M WRONG.” Beat. “GET IT OVER WITH, YOU SON OF A BITCH.” Break. “STOP JERKING ME AROUND AND TAKE ME.”
He was beginning to see now. That part of the hate that Stormy had so passionately held. And it enraged him. He could barely see, think. Only destroy that which was before him. Insanity took hold. For a brief moment that extended. He didn’t know how long. It just let out and, God help him, this wasn’t healthy.
Things were smashed, clattered, glass and wood scattered everywhere in the cathedral nave that Odd had spent so long before cleaning. Now all a waste. And in the end Odd was left with exhaustion. His chest hurt. More than ever. His throat sore. His body gave out. His knees wouldn’t hold him anymore. He trembled and dropped. Right there. Hands and knees before the broken alter. In the dead center of the place. The heart. For his own had shattered.
Forsaken. And he felt alone.
Thankfully the cathedral was so empty, empty to have seen this new sight. How in all the time that Odd had been here, despite everything, he had kept his faith. He kept hope. Love was the answer. But now, it seemed like a joke. Everything was just a big game and now he was beginning to see that. Lilia was gone, Harry was gone, Cheryl was gone, Maria was gone, and all of them might as well have gone invisible, too. It was only a matter of time.