Hell over Here
“Sister, don’t be scared. I’ve walked away live, on my feet again.”
Did I have to kill them to escape? There was no other way. When you think about it, though, they weren’t really my family. Just people. The Monks that kept me had nothing to do with my family, they only murdered them. My mother and my father were part of something bigger than themselves.
I remember smoke when I was little, lots of smoke. The chimney was always on.
Perhaps I forgot to mention that we were the bad guys in this story. We were in a bad way when the Church finally found us. Burning. Lots of it all the time. Imprisoned in the inner chambers of the church the Monks finally told me what the smoke was about.
I remember when I used to live near Auschwitz. I passed by it everyday on the way to school. All the German children would tell me about all of the Jews that would burn in the ovens. It used to give me nightmares. I would cry for all of them in front of God, where no one could see me.
Bodies.
That’s what we burned. God forgive me. I don’t know what happened to us. All of us. When did it become ok to murder innocent people? When did my parents stop becoming my parents and turn into murderers. Well, they didn’t actually murder them, more like get rid of the bodies. And I never knew. The whole time it was going on. Thinking back on it now, I almost wish they would’ve told me. I feel like maybe, just by talking to them, they would realize that burning bodies wasn’t what God created them for and we would just walk away from that house and start over. And we would be clean again. It never happened.
Eventually, I grew up and got on with life and my parents were trapped where they were. They never left the town, they never grew older, they just worked. I don’t think they could leave town. I think whoever made them do it had an invisible hand clamped around their house that only they could see, that only they could feel. But I wouldn’t let it keep me. I knew freedom and I had found love. Love in it’s most astounding. Her name was Beth. I knew that she was a gift from God to me the moment I met her. Her eyes told me that she loved me more than I could ever know. The time came when she and I wed and we had to move on. I left town with my wife and we made a living for ourselves.
We lived modestly. She stayed at home and cared for the house, I found work at a school for martial arts. Not much, but it made us both happy.
Then I came home for Christmas.
The chimney was off so I knew something was wrong. I walked in and the house was empty, papers all over the floor, half-eaten food on the tables, and my little sister’s homework sitting on the desk. I wandered through from room to room, the house’s eyes watching me the whole time. I remember the smell. It smelled warm, like ash. I reached the chimney and saw blood tracks. And lying in the ash was a man in a robe, dead. Someone struck me over the head and that’s all I remembered.
I woke up in a chamber with my hands and feet tied to a chair and a gag around my mouth. Needless to say I was perplexed. They left me there for hours, wondering what the hell I’d gotten myself into. Then I heard voices.
“Murder him as well.”
“He had nothing to do with it.”
“He is related, it is enough.”
“Do you think it is what God wants?”
“It matters not at this point.”
That was about the time I realized my time was up. The sins of those before us stain us to the rest of the world.
He stepped into the room with his brother. I thought it was the end.
“Do you know why you are here?” The taller one spoke.
“No.”
“Your family has committed an unforgivable crime.”
“Where is my family?”
“They have all been killed.”
I couldn’t speak. So he did.
“For years now, they have been working for an organization against the church. This organization is responsible for the death of over 500 monks. Your parents were in charge of getting rid of the bodies. Surly you must have noticed something.”
I could only nod.
“It has taken us years of searching to find them. I am sorry it ended this way.”
“What about Madeline? “My sister couldn’t have been a part of it.”
“She located and spoke to the higher powers of this organization.”
“Who the hell are they anyway?”
“I…cannot say.”
In the coming years, I learned a lot from the Monks. I cleaned and cooked for them, nothing big, but it was better than death. Or so I thought.
Then as I was cleaning the library, I found documents written in my mother’s handwriting. Detailing precisely how the oven worked. How they operated without getting caught for so long. Then I saw the exact same diagram, changed slightly, written in someone else’s writing. I realized that the Monks were going to replicate it.
That history will repeat itself is expected, but a sin so atrocious cannot be allowed to recur. I had to get out. I first burned the documents, but as I was doing it, one of the monks walked in. I had to take him down. We fought briefly and I knocked him out. I pulled his cloak up and there, tattooed on his leg was the sign of Lucifer. This was no monastery.
Burned alive. They were going to get all that they fought for.
Past midnight. I looked at the building once more and began to run. And as the clock struck one and the whole building erupted in an explosion of flame. Do not ask me to replicate how I did it; I could never give another the power that I had. I stood, brushed the soot off, and began to walk down the sloping hill, fire and explosions lighting the night behind me. This whole world is fucked up. I don’t know where I’m going. Not home, nor to my wife, they’ll have found her by now and I do not wish to know what the hell they’ve done to her. I know who and what they are. I’m need to find a church to repent. Salvation is not an option.
Capin’ Sparrow
28 April 2005
4:45am
Did I have to kill them to escape? There was no other way. When you think about it, though, they weren’t really my family. Just people. The Monks that kept me had nothing to do with my family, they only murdered them. My mother and my father were part of something bigger than themselves.
I remember smoke when I was little, lots of smoke. The chimney was always on.
Perhaps I forgot to mention that we were the bad guys in this story. We were in a bad way when the Church finally found us. Burning. Lots of it all the time. Imprisoned in the inner chambers of the church the Monks finally told me what the smoke was about.
I remember when I used to live near Auschwitz. I passed by it everyday on the way to school. All the German children would tell me about all of the Jews that would burn in the ovens. It used to give me nightmares. I would cry for all of them in front of God, where no one could see me.
Bodies.
That’s what we burned. God forgive me. I don’t know what happened to us. All of us. When did it become ok to murder innocent people? When did my parents stop becoming my parents and turn into murderers. Well, they didn’t actually murder them, more like get rid of the bodies. And I never knew. The whole time it was going on. Thinking back on it now, I almost wish they would’ve told me. I feel like maybe, just by talking to them, they would realize that burning bodies wasn’t what God created them for and we would just walk away from that house and start over. And we would be clean again. It never happened.
Eventually, I grew up and got on with life and my parents were trapped where they were. They never left the town, they never grew older, they just worked. I don’t think they could leave town. I think whoever made them do it had an invisible hand clamped around their house that only they could see, that only they could feel. But I wouldn’t let it keep me. I knew freedom and I had found love. Love in it’s most astounding. Her name was Beth. I knew that she was a gift from God to me the moment I met her. Her eyes told me that she loved me more than I could ever know. The time came when she and I wed and we had to move on. I left town with my wife and we made a living for ourselves.
We lived modestly. She stayed at home and cared for the house, I found work at a school for martial arts. Not much, but it made us both happy.
Then I came home for Christmas.
The chimney was off so I knew something was wrong. I walked in and the house was empty, papers all over the floor, half-eaten food on the tables, and my little sister’s homework sitting on the desk. I wandered through from room to room, the house’s eyes watching me the whole time. I remember the smell. It smelled warm, like ash. I reached the chimney and saw blood tracks. And lying in the ash was a man in a robe, dead. Someone struck me over the head and that’s all I remembered.
I woke up in a chamber with my hands and feet tied to a chair and a gag around my mouth. Needless to say I was perplexed. They left me there for hours, wondering what the hell I’d gotten myself into. Then I heard voices.
“Murder him as well.”
“He had nothing to do with it.”
“He is related, it is enough.”
“Do you think it is what God wants?”
“It matters not at this point.”
That was about the time I realized my time was up. The sins of those before us stain us to the rest of the world.
He stepped into the room with his brother. I thought it was the end.
“Do you know why you are here?” The taller one spoke.
“No.”
“Your family has committed an unforgivable crime.”
“Where is my family?”
“They have all been killed.”
I couldn’t speak. So he did.
“For years now, they have been working for an organization against the church. This organization is responsible for the death of over 500 monks. Your parents were in charge of getting rid of the bodies. Surly you must have noticed something.”
I could only nod.
“It has taken us years of searching to find them. I am sorry it ended this way.”
“What about Madeline? “My sister couldn’t have been a part of it.”
“She located and spoke to the higher powers of this organization.”
“Who the hell are they anyway?”
“I…cannot say.”
In the coming years, I learned a lot from the Monks. I cleaned and cooked for them, nothing big, but it was better than death. Or so I thought.
Then as I was cleaning the library, I found documents written in my mother’s handwriting. Detailing precisely how the oven worked. How they operated without getting caught for so long. Then I saw the exact same diagram, changed slightly, written in someone else’s writing. I realized that the Monks were going to replicate it.
That history will repeat itself is expected, but a sin so atrocious cannot be allowed to recur. I had to get out. I first burned the documents, but as I was doing it, one of the monks walked in. I had to take him down. We fought briefly and I knocked him out. I pulled his cloak up and there, tattooed on his leg was the sign of Lucifer. This was no monastery.
Burned alive. They were going to get all that they fought for.
Past midnight. I looked at the building once more and began to run. And as the clock struck one and the whole building erupted in an explosion of flame. Do not ask me to replicate how I did it; I could never give another the power that I had. I stood, brushed the soot off, and began to walk down the sloping hill, fire and explosions lighting the night behind me. This whole world is fucked up. I don’t know where I’m going. Not home, nor to my wife, they’ll have found her by now and I do not wish to know what the hell they’ve done to her. I know who and what they are. I’m need to find a church to repent. Salvation is not an option.
Capin’ Sparrow
28 April 2005
4:45am