All_Unwritten #384: photo prompt
Title: Everything
Author: kingzgurl
Rating: PG
Word Count: 615
For all_unwritten , prompt the three hundred and eighty-fourth:
***
She slipped quietly through the doors of the church, gently shutting the heavy wooden door behind her so as not to disturb the silence.
It had been a great many years since she had last entered a church, a great portion of her life since she had knelt in worship. Never had she knelt in prayer.
Walking lightly, she approached the front of the church where lit candles covered the altar and knelt before them. With damp eyes she crossed herself and lowered her head, her lips moving to form unvoiced words that she screamed to the heavens.
“Lord, I’m tired, so tired from walking,” she cried out silently in the darkened church, her face lifted heaven-ward with her eyes shut tight to contain the tears.
As a teenager, she had been a devout and strong Christian, so far as outward appearances were concerned. She had tried to believe, made everyone else think she did, had almost convinced herself… until the day she walked away from the church, never intending to return.
“And Lord I’m so alone,” a broken whimper ripped its way from her throat, the sound resonating within the cavernous form of the church.
The deaths of her parents had come suddenly and as a shock, followed quickly by the death of her husband, and without the church to turn to, she had lost everyone she had left. For two years after their passing she lived alone, with no one to love and no one to love her. Two years she spent in loneliness and heartache.
“Lord, the dark is creeping in,” she opened her eyes, fixating her gaze on the candles, the light against the darkness.
Without a reason to live anymore she had begun to waste away, loosing weight at a rapid pace, and had no motivation to continue living. As of late her depression weighed heavily on her and she had begun entertaining ideas of suicide as the darkness clouded her vision.
“Is creeping up to swallow me,” she rubbed her hands up and down her goose bump-covered arms, trying to warm the flesh.
After being found unconscious by her landlord and a trip to the hospital, the darkness had gotten a firm grasp on her. “Three months to live,” the doctors had said. “It’s too far along, we didn’t catch it early enough to do any good.”
“Think I’ll stop and rest here a while,” her whisper wisped through the church as she lowered her head to rest it against the wooden rail in front of her.
There was no reason for her to go home that night. It was not home anymore, anyway, not without him. It was not a place of comfort of rest, not like the church.
“Lord this is all that I can say right now,” the tears poured down her face in a steady stream, no longer able or caring to stop them.
The doctors had told her that her speech would be the first thing to go, followed quickly by her sight and then all motor function. Her throat had ached for weeks, the tears and emotion making it that much more difficult to speak.
“I know it isn’t much,” she admitted, her voice ragged and shaking with guilt.
She had never been blessed with an overabundance, nor cursed with underdevelopment, but she lived comfortably with only a small portion to share.
“This is all that I can give,” she whispered at the foot of the statue of the Christ.
She needed what she had to pay the hospital fees.
“That’s my everything,” the confession was gut-wrenching and made her want to run from the church to vomit.
There was nothing left.
Author: kingzgurl
Rating: PG
Word Count: 615
For all_unwritten , prompt the three hundred and eighty-fourth:
***
She slipped quietly through the doors of the church, gently shutting the heavy wooden door behind her so as not to disturb the silence.
It had been a great many years since she had last entered a church, a great portion of her life since she had knelt in worship. Never had she knelt in prayer.
Walking lightly, she approached the front of the church where lit candles covered the altar and knelt before them. With damp eyes she crossed herself and lowered her head, her lips moving to form unvoiced words that she screamed to the heavens.
“Lord, I’m tired, so tired from walking,” she cried out silently in the darkened church, her face lifted heaven-ward with her eyes shut tight to contain the tears.
As a teenager, she had been a devout and strong Christian, so far as outward appearances were concerned. She had tried to believe, made everyone else think she did, had almost convinced herself… until the day she walked away from the church, never intending to return.
“And Lord I’m so alone,” a broken whimper ripped its way from her throat, the sound resonating within the cavernous form of the church.
The deaths of her parents had come suddenly and as a shock, followed quickly by the death of her husband, and without the church to turn to, she had lost everyone she had left. For two years after their passing she lived alone, with no one to love and no one to love her. Two years she spent in loneliness and heartache.
“Lord, the dark is creeping in,” she opened her eyes, fixating her gaze on the candles, the light against the darkness.
Without a reason to live anymore she had begun to waste away, loosing weight at a rapid pace, and had no motivation to continue living. As of late her depression weighed heavily on her and she had begun entertaining ideas of suicide as the darkness clouded her vision.
“Is creeping up to swallow me,” she rubbed her hands up and down her goose bump-covered arms, trying to warm the flesh.
After being found unconscious by her landlord and a trip to the hospital, the darkness had gotten a firm grasp on her. “Three months to live,” the doctors had said. “It’s too far along, we didn’t catch it early enough to do any good.”
“Think I’ll stop and rest here a while,” her whisper wisped through the church as she lowered her head to rest it against the wooden rail in front of her.
There was no reason for her to go home that night. It was not home anymore, anyway, not without him. It was not a place of comfort of rest, not like the church.
“Lord this is all that I can say right now,” the tears poured down her face in a steady stream, no longer able or caring to stop them.
The doctors had told her that her speech would be the first thing to go, followed quickly by her sight and then all motor function. Her throat had ached for weeks, the tears and emotion making it that much more difficult to speak.
“I know it isn’t much,” she admitted, her voice ragged and shaking with guilt.
She had never been blessed with an overabundance, nor cursed with underdevelopment, but she lived comfortably with only a small portion to share.
“This is all that I can give,” she whispered at the foot of the statue of the Christ.
She needed what she had to pay the hospital fees.
“That’s my everything,” the confession was gut-wrenching and made her want to run from the church to vomit.
There was nothing left.