(no subject)
"Hello, you met me some time in mid-April with a fraction of my story told. I do believe it's time to tell you the rest of it?
My name is Laurent. I'm an eighteenth century vampire with exquisite taste in all the finer things. I was made some day in 1701. My "master," "maker," chose me out of a dozen "promising" clergymen for a church he owned. Imagine that? Making a vampire from works of a church? Back then, I considered it blasphemy. I hated him, immensely. His name was Paul, but he liked to be fashioned "St. Paul." He was, what you call, a religious freak (and that's putting it nicely). He chose me to lead a crusade against the non-believing vampires (and that's a whole lot of them), with the help of his other "children."
The only problem was, half of this little cult, as he called it, half of them didn't care about anything concerning this prophet known as Jesus. But I get too far ahead. Let me start from the beginning, shall I?
I had just turned eighteen and I was excited, as it was with my birthdays. I wanted to devote a life of serivitude to the Church and the Virgin Mary, so off I went to this church I heard about. Oh, it was grand, grand indeed. But all these boys walking with their heads lowered behind the priest as if their favored animal died. No one speaking, only the priest, his incense shaker, and chanting. So, I went off to see this Saint I had heard so much about. A few, rather, attractive nuns showed me to what would be my new room. A bed, a cross at the head of the bed, and a window at the very top of the ceiling, a pedastol and a candle...my how, quaint.
"Where is this "Saint?" I looked over to them as I slid off my shirt to place on the black robe. I remember my nipples being hard and the younger nun staring at my chest.
"Oh, my son, this is a special Saint!" Said the other to get the younger to snap out of it with a nudge of her elbow.
"Oh yes, very special." Said the younger, another glance at my smooth chest. I don't know why, but I never grew hair on my chest, so smooth always it was.
"Hm, I see, now where could I find some food? I am quite hungry?" I said with a look of innocence (yeah, me, innocent, right).
"Dinner will be at ten this night." Said the older nun with a smile.
I was appalled, "Ten? You're joking, sister? For surely, as it is only noon, I could get something to eat, at this moment?" My stomach took a dive into my instestines, or so it felt.
"Sorry, St. Paul likes for young boys to fast for him during the day." Replied the older one. I believe her name was Sister Josephine.
"Not even a slice of bread? What is this Saint Paul? A Boogey-Man? Night time? Hysterics!" I mocked and mocked galore.
Gasps now erupted from the sisters.
"Dinner shall be at ten this evening! Be dressed proper! If you heathen boys know how to do so!"
"Piss off!" I declared as they shut the door.
Now see, I wanted to serve the Holy Virgin; But on my terms. I was from London, but moved to France at a very early age. My parents retained the English accent, whilst I adopted a French one.
I wandered the vast courtyards in search of something to eat. I had not had breakfast that morning, so that I would gorge on the church feast...Some feast. When out of the corner of my eye, I saw this huge structure. It was two stories tall and had stained glass windows with gold instead of lead. Golden figures carved right into the structure. Didn't the Bible say not to be so material? Oh well, I was more distracted by the waterfall next to it. It was flowing to the left of this structure, flowing into this marble base. But instead of over flowing, or keep this waterfall damned off, the fountain lead way to original stream it flowed from. How marvelous. Marvelous, who cares about marvelous? I all but ran up to this little fountain and stuck my whole head inside it.
Ah, the cold caressing my cheeks, the water in my mouth, oh the taste of this water. So cold, so refreshing. I was drinking so fast, my stomach began to hurt, I slowed down and soon, my belly lay with the most refreshing water I had ever drank. I sat back, behind this monolith of a creation and studied the figures. All the traditional scenes, Michael casting out Satan. Jesus and his disciples, all that muck. More gold, more jewels. Diamonds, sapphires, rubies, onyx, the works. I remember falling asleep next to this fountain and being rudely awoken by Sister Josephine. Declaring I was just some English heathen slacking about. She didn't know I drank from the fountain, my hair had dried as well as my robes, but she still assumed I did. Heathen this, heathen, heathen. So I called her a rude little witted twit. She didn't like that too much. She fled away from me fuming on about "Jesus strike this boy down!" My, isn't that contradictory?
Let me get more to the story, I feel I am losing your attention. So, two hours before dinner, I slouched around my tomb of a room. I sat at the head of my bed with one leg on the mattress and one foot on the floor. When at about ten, this man walked into my room with the other priests.
"You must be the newest addition to the church, my son." His voice was heavy, yet clear. Like the pressure from swimming too deep. Where it feels good, but you know gets deeper.
"Yes, I am. Are you this Saint Paul some other?" Obvious, no respect.
"You can call me Saint Paul. I am here to help you Laurent."
"Right. How much do they pay you to stay here and starve us?" I replied in disgust.
Gasps from the priests, one ran up to me with a raised arm, but St. Paul grabbed him by the wrist, and calmly said, "No, we cannot expect them to learn from battery, Father John." He pulled Father John back behind him and excused them all from the room.
As he lit the candle, I could see his face. It was pure white. As if this guy never got out in the sun. Perhaps he fasted in cellars? Perhaps. But his eyes, his eyes were blue with specales of green in them. They were stunningly beautiful. His face was drapped with blackest of black hair. It shined in the candelight, as if the hair were alive and dancing in the flame. He was just a little bit taller than me, something I was not used to, as to my exceptional height back in those times. He had broad shoulders and stunning white teeth. Only, he never fully smiled, he only smiled with his lips, and when he laughed, he brought his hand up to cover his mouth.
"No, I do not fast them during the day. That is merely the church trying to gain control of you all. I shall feed you." He said to me.
"Really? I heard you were some night time only saint. How are you supposed to feed me during the day?" I looked up, humbled at his eyes.
"You've seen my chapel. Did you like the water?" He asked in purest form of innocent.
"How did you know? No one saw me! I made sure of it!" I was now angered that he watched me.
"Calm yourself, my son. I shall tell no one. I shall tell them to let you go inside the chapel if you like. Only, do not go into the basement. I do my fasting there and cannot be disturbed." He said with a firm politeness.
"As you wish. But what is your real name?" I asked. I was almost in love with him, just from his looks and his voice.
"My name is simply what you have been told, Paul. I became a saint to better help our Mother Mary and our saviour Jesus." He said with overt love.
"Right, yeah, joining a church you kind of get that notion."
He put his hand up to his mouth and laughed.
"Yes, I do believe that was rather obvious, was it not? Come, come to the dining hall so that you may meet the other sisters and your bretheren and feast the night away. I am fasting, so I won't be joining you in feast, but in person, I shall."
So off we went to the dining hall. You had to cross the monster of a courtyard to get to the doors, but at the sight of the feast, it was well worth it. I sat with the other boys, and St. Paul sat at this table way ahead of all the others. His table was horizontal, while the other ten (five behind five), were vertical. And sure enough as I'd expect, St. Paul sat right in the center of the table. We said Hail Mary's and Our Father then began the feast.
That feast would be memorable for me, even now that I cannot eat food, I still remember the tastes. I still remember the fumes of sweat and grease mixed in the air. I still remember how everyone deified St. Paul, and how, everyone was up and about, yet he remained seated. He watched us all.
I made alot of friends that night, perhaps because I was the tallest one there, and it was good to be friends with the tall person? I don't know why, but everyone was attracted to me. I couldn't help but think about my perverted nun that was staring at my chest earlier. I bet she has never been with a man before. Perhaps. But all these things tamed in the thought and presence of this, Saint Paul. Yes, I was falling for him. The radiance of his eyes in the candles, the glow of his white skin from those same candles. The way he has that little habit of covering his mouth when he laughs. Why, I do believe only women do that, such that I have seen thus far, but such things he does, attracts me. The way his hair shines with such overt radiance is enough to coo one's heart, even far away.
At an early age, I knew I was bisexual. Of course now, one simply cannot come to someone on the street and declare their sexuality (other than heterosexuality), without being beaten, maimed, or even killed. But back then, bisexuality was a great trait to have. Take a man into bed and then lay with a woman; Yes, many of my days were filled with these actions, but this Christianity seemed to want to strike anything other than man and woman off the record. Either kill, or erase from history, or both. Ah, but this Saint Paul; One could be heterosexual and still crave this walking sculpture of a man. But enough of that, onward with my story.
After the feast I was welcomed by every member of this church. Hugs and greetings from the sisters, bretherens, teachers and priests...literally, every member. It was a huge event, but so huge, it weighed heavily into the early hours or pale skylight.
I was walking to the privies when I felt a palm, firmly squeeze my right shoulder: "Laurent, come to me at my chapel when you are finished. But do so, in a sneaking manner. No one must see you leave." I knew it was St. Paul, and luckily, my trip to the privies was only to break water. If I had to squat, I would not have been able to sustain the wait.
So I finished and crept around the dining hall. It had one major entrance with two closeable doors, so all I had to do was not walk directly infront of the doors. My robes being black, I blended in with the trees and background. I snuck past successfully and aimed for St. Paul's chapel (more like a church in itself, with it's size). I was looking over my shoulders almost every five paces I was so very paranoid. What could he want with me? Does he want to lay with me? Does he not like me and wish to take my life? No, such a thought was asinine.
I made it to the chapel doors successfully. I went to knock on the right door, when it opened before my knuckles even laid on the wood. However, when I peered into this chapel, I saw maybe a few pews, but more importantly, no one behind the doors that had just opened. But what I did see, were candles on stands, candelabras and on the standard candle trays you would expect to see in a Catholic church. These candles were lined from corner to corner, wall to wall. It was your basic chapel. Only, it had a step up podium and, what appeard to be, two, very large golden murials made into one. Well, I'll be damned, more gold. Very decaled with holy scenes. Best way to put it, scriptures come to life on gold. The return of Jesus, the manger and the Star. The hydra, a path leading to Heaven, and a path leading to Hell. The path to Hell was studded with jewels and golden trinkets. The path to Heaven was covered with silver (to look like dirt), shards of jewels (to be as glass) and other painful things that no one would want to step on. But why Heaven be so painful and Hell be so beautiful?
"Because the Road to Hell is studded with what you want to see and own. The Road to Heaven is a painful road that takes your whole life to get to, but in the end, in God's love, it is worth it." said that familiar voice.
"You sneaking cat, how did you know what I was thinking?" I sneered, but with a smile at the corner of my lips.
"You were staring at the murial for quite sometime. I took a guess it was at the Roads." said St. Paul, still hidden.
"Come out already! Why am I here?" I looked about.
"Disrobe, Laurent."
A heated blanket swarmed over my body. He did want to bed me. Naughty saint, naughty saint!
"No, not naughty, wise. Now disrobe."
In a vigor of sexual air, I threw off my robe.
"Stand with your legs spread open."
I did this.
"Quite a size, for such an age. I'm impressed."
"Ok, now show yourself and let us bed!" I said so full of flush.
"Bed? You, oh, I see. Well, I guess I was misleading. No, we shall not bed. I shall drain you of a sinner's life, and born you again into Christ's love and blood."
"By me being naked? What bible did you read, the Kama Sutra?" I smirked.
"Wise little boy. No, I plan on drinking your every last drop of blood."
I burst out laughing so fast, I forgot I was naked.
"And do what? Replace it with the blood of Christ?" Still laughing.
"Yes..."
I was breathless, speechless.
"H-How?" I asked.
"You shall see. You will die, but you will be born again." The voice sounded sinister. If there was a Satan, it was in that room when he spoke to me now.
"No, I want to live for awhile. I think I will go now, Paulie." I gathered my robes.
"IT'S SAINT PAUL, YOU INSIPID LITTLE HUMAN!" He roared. I swear, the entire chapel and window panes shook.
"...Yeah, well, I want to be insipid for a little while longer." I was almost shaking.
"We as religious beings are losing the battle against Satan! Against Evil! Against Sin! You will help me, even if I have to force you!"
Before a second thought, I bolted through the doors and heard them slam behind me, as if he tried to close them on me, but I was too fast. I ran, and ran, and ran. Then I thought, I'm naked, they will see me and scorn my nakedness. However, someone was chasing me that wanted me dead, so I kept running. The sun was coming over the mountains and something told me St. Paul would not come after me in the daylight. Since that is his "fasting." So I then cautioned my steps when I reached the side courtyard. I came to the opening of the hallway that lead three ways. One to the left, one to the right, and one in the middle. Each a different hallway in the building. I eventually, luckily, made it to my hallway, but ran into the young nun. She gasped.
"Brother Laurent! You're...naked!"
"Why yes, I am sister Amelia. But, I need to get to my room before St. Paul sees me naked. Can I pass?"
"...I have to get sister Josephine. She must know."
"NO! PLEASE!" I did the only thing I could do to keep her from running away. I dropped my robes, held her face in my hands and kissed her. Pressed my lips against her mouth. It was as if the world stopped, and she melted in my hands.
"Please Amelia! This is important!"
She put her fingers to her lips and looked into my eyes. She looked down at my organ and her eyes grew wide.
"...Amelia! Please!"
"Oh, yes, fine. I will protect you Laurent. But promise me one thing."
"ANYTHING!" I was beyond desperate. At any moment that hag sister Josephine would walk around and say "heathen, heathen, naked heathen," or something relatively close.
"Never kiss me again..."
"Fair enough." I was saddened.
"...in such wide, open spaces." She whispered now.
I couldn't help it, my sexual drive over took my fear, I started to stiffen, Amelia noticed it.
"No time for that. Get behind me and dress, quickly! I will block you from sight."
We went to the closest corner and I dressed like I was on fire and the robes could heal me. Amelia then led me to my room, cozy as it was, and shut the door behind her.
"What are you doing," I asked her "you can get into alot of trouble!"
"That is a risk I must take, then." She stared at my lips.
"Was that your first kiss?" I asked softly.
She nodded and then touched her lips again.
"So, you've sworn off all kinds of fleshly encounters?"
She nodded and sighed.
"Well, do not let it burden you. Press your mouth to mine, and we shall continue." I said and smiled.
"But what about...Mary? She would be most furious with me!"
"Hey, Mary was 'divinely touched' by God. I don't think a kiss is going to blow up her skirt."
She smiled and gasped at the same time.
"Naughty little boy!"
"Your right! But what is this about little? How old are you?"
"I'm sixteen." She said with a fear of rejection on her face.
"I'm eighteen, so therefore, you are my little nun. Besides the few inches I am taller than you." We laughed.
She stepped closer to me and we pressed our mouths together. We let our tongues caress each other in the closed heat of our mouths. My hands caressed her "heavenly" body and then rested on her behind. She jumped when I gave her a little squeeze on them, but she started to fumble with her kissing. Be it she was a first kisser, she wasn't too bad.
I started to push my hands up her habit, when we heard familiar shoes scrapping the hallway.
"Sister Josephine!" Amelia yelled in a whisper.
"Calm down! Just relax! I'll lay down on the bed and you lay with me!"
"WHAT?!"
"Ok, ok, just kidding. Get at the opposite wall and I will lay down. Take off all your cloths and take the cross and..."
"LAURENT!"
"Ok, ok, kidding again. Stand there and act as if I was homesick. Trust me."
"It will never work!"
"Hey, Josehag is less than a few paces from the door, we have no choice! Now, talk about when you were at your home!"
"But.."
The door burst open and Josephine walked right in, as if she were the Virgin herself.
"When I was on my farm, just outside of Paris, my mother told me about the Blessed Virgin...Oh, good morning sister Josephine!" She said with a polite smile. So fetching.
"What is going on here?" She declared.
"Laurent is growing homesick and I was merely consoling him with how I came to be a sister here."
"Is this true Laurent?!" She glared at me.
"Yes, I merely miss my parents, and all their holy wisdom and good food." Yeah, right, No sister Josephine, me and Amelia were about to bed each other right here before you walked in on us, right. I put on a face of longing and despair.
"Aww, poor little one. Perhaps I have been too hard on you. I apologize. Let the love of our Heavenly Father assauge what I have done. I am dreadfully and dearly sorry. Sister Amelia, even though you were helping him on his path with Our Blessed Virgin, you will need another sister to supervise. Five years ago, a sister broke her vow and committed sodomy and his seed made her with child."
"Oh no!" Amelia and I both said, "That is horrible!"
My name is Laurent. I'm an eighteenth century vampire with exquisite taste in all the finer things. I was made some day in 1701. My "master," "maker," chose me out of a dozen "promising" clergymen for a church he owned. Imagine that? Making a vampire from works of a church? Back then, I considered it blasphemy. I hated him, immensely. His name was Paul, but he liked to be fashioned "St. Paul." He was, what you call, a religious freak (and that's putting it nicely). He chose me to lead a crusade against the non-believing vampires (and that's a whole lot of them), with the help of his other "children."
The only problem was, half of this little cult, as he called it, half of them didn't care about anything concerning this prophet known as Jesus. But I get too far ahead. Let me start from the beginning, shall I?
I had just turned eighteen and I was excited, as it was with my birthdays. I wanted to devote a life of serivitude to the Church and the Virgin Mary, so off I went to this church I heard about. Oh, it was grand, grand indeed. But all these boys walking with their heads lowered behind the priest as if their favored animal died. No one speaking, only the priest, his incense shaker, and chanting. So, I went off to see this Saint I had heard so much about. A few, rather, attractive nuns showed me to what would be my new room. A bed, a cross at the head of the bed, and a window at the very top of the ceiling, a pedastol and a candle...my how, quaint.
"Where is this "Saint?" I looked over to them as I slid off my shirt to place on the black robe. I remember my nipples being hard and the younger nun staring at my chest.
"Oh, my son, this is a special Saint!" Said the other to get the younger to snap out of it with a nudge of her elbow.
"Oh yes, very special." Said the younger, another glance at my smooth chest. I don't know why, but I never grew hair on my chest, so smooth always it was.
"Hm, I see, now where could I find some food? I am quite hungry?" I said with a look of innocence (yeah, me, innocent, right).
"Dinner will be at ten this night." Said the older nun with a smile.
I was appalled, "Ten? You're joking, sister? For surely, as it is only noon, I could get something to eat, at this moment?" My stomach took a dive into my instestines, or so it felt.
"Sorry, St. Paul likes for young boys to fast for him during the day." Replied the older one. I believe her name was Sister Josephine.
"Not even a slice of bread? What is this Saint Paul? A Boogey-Man? Night time? Hysterics!" I mocked and mocked galore.
Gasps now erupted from the sisters.
"Dinner shall be at ten this evening! Be dressed proper! If you heathen boys know how to do so!"
"Piss off!" I declared as they shut the door.
Now see, I wanted to serve the Holy Virgin; But on my terms. I was from London, but moved to France at a very early age. My parents retained the English accent, whilst I adopted a French one.
I wandered the vast courtyards in search of something to eat. I had not had breakfast that morning, so that I would gorge on the church feast...Some feast. When out of the corner of my eye, I saw this huge structure. It was two stories tall and had stained glass windows with gold instead of lead. Golden figures carved right into the structure. Didn't the Bible say not to be so material? Oh well, I was more distracted by the waterfall next to it. It was flowing to the left of this structure, flowing into this marble base. But instead of over flowing, or keep this waterfall damned off, the fountain lead way to original stream it flowed from. How marvelous. Marvelous, who cares about marvelous? I all but ran up to this little fountain and stuck my whole head inside it.
Ah, the cold caressing my cheeks, the water in my mouth, oh the taste of this water. So cold, so refreshing. I was drinking so fast, my stomach began to hurt, I slowed down and soon, my belly lay with the most refreshing water I had ever drank. I sat back, behind this monolith of a creation and studied the figures. All the traditional scenes, Michael casting out Satan. Jesus and his disciples, all that muck. More gold, more jewels. Diamonds, sapphires, rubies, onyx, the works. I remember falling asleep next to this fountain and being rudely awoken by Sister Josephine. Declaring I was just some English heathen slacking about. She didn't know I drank from the fountain, my hair had dried as well as my robes, but she still assumed I did. Heathen this, heathen, heathen. So I called her a rude little witted twit. She didn't like that too much. She fled away from me fuming on about "Jesus strike this boy down!" My, isn't that contradictory?
Let me get more to the story, I feel I am losing your attention. So, two hours before dinner, I slouched around my tomb of a room. I sat at the head of my bed with one leg on the mattress and one foot on the floor. When at about ten, this man walked into my room with the other priests.
"You must be the newest addition to the church, my son." His voice was heavy, yet clear. Like the pressure from swimming too deep. Where it feels good, but you know gets deeper.
"Yes, I am. Are you this Saint Paul some other?" Obvious, no respect.
"You can call me Saint Paul. I am here to help you Laurent."
"Right. How much do they pay you to stay here and starve us?" I replied in disgust.
Gasps from the priests, one ran up to me with a raised arm, but St. Paul grabbed him by the wrist, and calmly said, "No, we cannot expect them to learn from battery, Father John." He pulled Father John back behind him and excused them all from the room.
As he lit the candle, I could see his face. It was pure white. As if this guy never got out in the sun. Perhaps he fasted in cellars? Perhaps. But his eyes, his eyes were blue with specales of green in them. They were stunningly beautiful. His face was drapped with blackest of black hair. It shined in the candelight, as if the hair were alive and dancing in the flame. He was just a little bit taller than me, something I was not used to, as to my exceptional height back in those times. He had broad shoulders and stunning white teeth. Only, he never fully smiled, he only smiled with his lips, and when he laughed, he brought his hand up to cover his mouth.
"No, I do not fast them during the day. That is merely the church trying to gain control of you all. I shall feed you." He said to me.
"Really? I heard you were some night time only saint. How are you supposed to feed me during the day?" I looked up, humbled at his eyes.
"You've seen my chapel. Did you like the water?" He asked in purest form of innocent.
"How did you know? No one saw me! I made sure of it!" I was now angered that he watched me.
"Calm yourself, my son. I shall tell no one. I shall tell them to let you go inside the chapel if you like. Only, do not go into the basement. I do my fasting there and cannot be disturbed." He said with a firm politeness.
"As you wish. But what is your real name?" I asked. I was almost in love with him, just from his looks and his voice.
"My name is simply what you have been told, Paul. I became a saint to better help our Mother Mary and our saviour Jesus." He said with overt love.
"Right, yeah, joining a church you kind of get that notion."
He put his hand up to his mouth and laughed.
"Yes, I do believe that was rather obvious, was it not? Come, come to the dining hall so that you may meet the other sisters and your bretheren and feast the night away. I am fasting, so I won't be joining you in feast, but in person, I shall."
So off we went to the dining hall. You had to cross the monster of a courtyard to get to the doors, but at the sight of the feast, it was well worth it. I sat with the other boys, and St. Paul sat at this table way ahead of all the others. His table was horizontal, while the other ten (five behind five), were vertical. And sure enough as I'd expect, St. Paul sat right in the center of the table. We said Hail Mary's and Our Father then began the feast.
That feast would be memorable for me, even now that I cannot eat food, I still remember the tastes. I still remember the fumes of sweat and grease mixed in the air. I still remember how everyone deified St. Paul, and how, everyone was up and about, yet he remained seated. He watched us all.
I made alot of friends that night, perhaps because I was the tallest one there, and it was good to be friends with the tall person? I don't know why, but everyone was attracted to me. I couldn't help but think about my perverted nun that was staring at my chest earlier. I bet she has never been with a man before. Perhaps. But all these things tamed in the thought and presence of this, Saint Paul. Yes, I was falling for him. The radiance of his eyes in the candles, the glow of his white skin from those same candles. The way he has that little habit of covering his mouth when he laughs. Why, I do believe only women do that, such that I have seen thus far, but such things he does, attracts me. The way his hair shines with such overt radiance is enough to coo one's heart, even far away.
At an early age, I knew I was bisexual. Of course now, one simply cannot come to someone on the street and declare their sexuality (other than heterosexuality), without being beaten, maimed, or even killed. But back then, bisexuality was a great trait to have. Take a man into bed and then lay with a woman; Yes, many of my days were filled with these actions, but this Christianity seemed to want to strike anything other than man and woman off the record. Either kill, or erase from history, or both. Ah, but this Saint Paul; One could be heterosexual and still crave this walking sculpture of a man. But enough of that, onward with my story.
After the feast I was welcomed by every member of this church. Hugs and greetings from the sisters, bretherens, teachers and priests...literally, every member. It was a huge event, but so huge, it weighed heavily into the early hours or pale skylight.
I was walking to the privies when I felt a palm, firmly squeeze my right shoulder: "Laurent, come to me at my chapel when you are finished. But do so, in a sneaking manner. No one must see you leave." I knew it was St. Paul, and luckily, my trip to the privies was only to break water. If I had to squat, I would not have been able to sustain the wait.
So I finished and crept around the dining hall. It had one major entrance with two closeable doors, so all I had to do was not walk directly infront of the doors. My robes being black, I blended in with the trees and background. I snuck past successfully and aimed for St. Paul's chapel (more like a church in itself, with it's size). I was looking over my shoulders almost every five paces I was so very paranoid. What could he want with me? Does he want to lay with me? Does he not like me and wish to take my life? No, such a thought was asinine.
I made it to the chapel doors successfully. I went to knock on the right door, when it opened before my knuckles even laid on the wood. However, when I peered into this chapel, I saw maybe a few pews, but more importantly, no one behind the doors that had just opened. But what I did see, were candles on stands, candelabras and on the standard candle trays you would expect to see in a Catholic church. These candles were lined from corner to corner, wall to wall. It was your basic chapel. Only, it had a step up podium and, what appeard to be, two, very large golden murials made into one. Well, I'll be damned, more gold. Very decaled with holy scenes. Best way to put it, scriptures come to life on gold. The return of Jesus, the manger and the Star. The hydra, a path leading to Heaven, and a path leading to Hell. The path to Hell was studded with jewels and golden trinkets. The path to Heaven was covered with silver (to look like dirt), shards of jewels (to be as glass) and other painful things that no one would want to step on. But why Heaven be so painful and Hell be so beautiful?
"Because the Road to Hell is studded with what you want to see and own. The Road to Heaven is a painful road that takes your whole life to get to, but in the end, in God's love, it is worth it." said that familiar voice.
"You sneaking cat, how did you know what I was thinking?" I sneered, but with a smile at the corner of my lips.
"You were staring at the murial for quite sometime. I took a guess it was at the Roads." said St. Paul, still hidden.
"Come out already! Why am I here?" I looked about.
"Disrobe, Laurent."
A heated blanket swarmed over my body. He did want to bed me. Naughty saint, naughty saint!
"No, not naughty, wise. Now disrobe."
In a vigor of sexual air, I threw off my robe.
"Stand with your legs spread open."
I did this.
"Quite a size, for such an age. I'm impressed."
"Ok, now show yourself and let us bed!" I said so full of flush.
"Bed? You, oh, I see. Well, I guess I was misleading. No, we shall not bed. I shall drain you of a sinner's life, and born you again into Christ's love and blood."
"By me being naked? What bible did you read, the Kama Sutra?" I smirked.
"Wise little boy. No, I plan on drinking your every last drop of blood."
I burst out laughing so fast, I forgot I was naked.
"And do what? Replace it with the blood of Christ?" Still laughing.
"Yes..."
I was breathless, speechless.
"H-How?" I asked.
"You shall see. You will die, but you will be born again." The voice sounded sinister. If there was a Satan, it was in that room when he spoke to me now.
"No, I want to live for awhile. I think I will go now, Paulie." I gathered my robes.
"IT'S SAINT PAUL, YOU INSIPID LITTLE HUMAN!" He roared. I swear, the entire chapel and window panes shook.
"...Yeah, well, I want to be insipid for a little while longer." I was almost shaking.
"We as religious beings are losing the battle against Satan! Against Evil! Against Sin! You will help me, even if I have to force you!"
Before a second thought, I bolted through the doors and heard them slam behind me, as if he tried to close them on me, but I was too fast. I ran, and ran, and ran. Then I thought, I'm naked, they will see me and scorn my nakedness. However, someone was chasing me that wanted me dead, so I kept running. The sun was coming over the mountains and something told me St. Paul would not come after me in the daylight. Since that is his "fasting." So I then cautioned my steps when I reached the side courtyard. I came to the opening of the hallway that lead three ways. One to the left, one to the right, and one in the middle. Each a different hallway in the building. I eventually, luckily, made it to my hallway, but ran into the young nun. She gasped.
"Brother Laurent! You're...naked!"
"Why yes, I am sister Amelia. But, I need to get to my room before St. Paul sees me naked. Can I pass?"
"...I have to get sister Josephine. She must know."
"NO! PLEASE!" I did the only thing I could do to keep her from running away. I dropped my robes, held her face in my hands and kissed her. Pressed my lips against her mouth. It was as if the world stopped, and she melted in my hands.
"Please Amelia! This is important!"
She put her fingers to her lips and looked into my eyes. She looked down at my organ and her eyes grew wide.
"...Amelia! Please!"
"Oh, yes, fine. I will protect you Laurent. But promise me one thing."
"ANYTHING!" I was beyond desperate. At any moment that hag sister Josephine would walk around and say "heathen, heathen, naked heathen," or something relatively close.
"Never kiss me again..."
"Fair enough." I was saddened.
"...in such wide, open spaces." She whispered now.
I couldn't help it, my sexual drive over took my fear, I started to stiffen, Amelia noticed it.
"No time for that. Get behind me and dress, quickly! I will block you from sight."
We went to the closest corner and I dressed like I was on fire and the robes could heal me. Amelia then led me to my room, cozy as it was, and shut the door behind her.
"What are you doing," I asked her "you can get into alot of trouble!"
"That is a risk I must take, then." She stared at my lips.
"Was that your first kiss?" I asked softly.
She nodded and then touched her lips again.
"So, you've sworn off all kinds of fleshly encounters?"
She nodded and sighed.
"Well, do not let it burden you. Press your mouth to mine, and we shall continue." I said and smiled.
"But what about...Mary? She would be most furious with me!"
"Hey, Mary was 'divinely touched' by God. I don't think a kiss is going to blow up her skirt."
She smiled and gasped at the same time.
"Naughty little boy!"
"Your right! But what is this about little? How old are you?"
"I'm sixteen." She said with a fear of rejection on her face.
"I'm eighteen, so therefore, you are my little nun. Besides the few inches I am taller than you." We laughed.
She stepped closer to me and we pressed our mouths together. We let our tongues caress each other in the closed heat of our mouths. My hands caressed her "heavenly" body and then rested on her behind. She jumped when I gave her a little squeeze on them, but she started to fumble with her kissing. Be it she was a first kisser, she wasn't too bad.
I started to push my hands up her habit, when we heard familiar shoes scrapping the hallway.
"Sister Josephine!" Amelia yelled in a whisper.
"Calm down! Just relax! I'll lay down on the bed and you lay with me!"
"WHAT?!"
"Ok, ok, just kidding. Get at the opposite wall and I will lay down. Take off all your cloths and take the cross and..."
"LAURENT!"
"Ok, ok, kidding again. Stand there and act as if I was homesick. Trust me."
"It will never work!"
"Hey, Josehag is less than a few paces from the door, we have no choice! Now, talk about when you were at your home!"
"But.."
The door burst open and Josephine walked right in, as if she were the Virgin herself.
"When I was on my farm, just outside of Paris, my mother told me about the Blessed Virgin...Oh, good morning sister Josephine!" She said with a polite smile. So fetching.
"What is going on here?" She declared.
"Laurent is growing homesick and I was merely consoling him with how I came to be a sister here."
"Is this true Laurent?!" She glared at me.
"Yes, I merely miss my parents, and all their holy wisdom and good food." Yeah, right, No sister Josephine, me and Amelia were about to bed each other right here before you walked in on us, right. I put on a face of longing and despair.
"Aww, poor little one. Perhaps I have been too hard on you. I apologize. Let the love of our Heavenly Father assauge what I have done. I am dreadfully and dearly sorry. Sister Amelia, even though you were helping him on his path with Our Blessed Virgin, you will need another sister to supervise. Five years ago, a sister broke her vow and committed sodomy and his seed made her with child."
"Oh no!" Amelia and I both said, "That is horrible!"