(no subject)
(Laurent continues)
I had nightmares all throughout the night. Of St. Paul, of flesh, of carnal pleasures, of Amelia, of blood. I could smell the flesh, I could see blood over my arms, my face. In my dreams, I was on my knees, crying blood, and when I screamed, I gurgled blood from my throat, that I didn't even know was there. So vivid, so ripe, so painful. I put on my robes, straightened them out, then left my little cell.
As I walked down the halls, I could see the other boys running to Father Peter's office. I heard yelling. My god, it was just a few hours before Mid day and already yelling. And what with barely any restful sleep, I was teetering on the brink of passing out right on the very floor I was walking upon. As I peered forward, I could see a group of boys surrounding the walls of the office, trying to make out the yelling and whispers.
One boy came up to me and told me to go the opposite way. Now this boy was unlike the others. He actually kept his long hair. Long, beautiful shoulder length black hair. I wanted to kiss him when he wetted his lips and puckered them in nervouseness before he spoke.
"Why? What have I done wrong?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.
"It's St. Paul, he offered you the Eucharist and you rejected him!"
"I did no such thing! That St. Paul is a few bats loose of a complete belfry!" I spat out.
"Well Father Peter is up his pole about you rejecting the Body of Christ! Hurry! Go! He is sending some of the men after you!"
"He offered me nothing! And what is this, some hench men after me? Let them catch me! I dare him to send them!" I said with my pointed finger pointing to the floor in a means of standing my ground.
"There he is! There he is Father! Blasphemer come hither!" One of the hench men yelled.
"I'm not moving a foot. You come get me since it seems you want me so bad!" I scoffed.
As they were walking toward me, the boy was trying to push me to run the other direction. I would not. I am Laurent! I do not run. Well, I know, you're reminding me about last night. Well hey, something that shakes an entire building and roars and is after YOU, you'd run too. Now shush.
So, these hench men apprehended me and took me to the office of a fuming priest (never a good thing, mind you). Here I was, sitting down, calm as can be, and there he was ranting about blasphemy.
"Why did you reject the Eucharist?" He battered into the air.
"I wasn't offered the Eucharist! I wasn't offered any stale bread!" I tried to stand but the men held me down by my shoulders.
"It was offered, and you rejected! Blasphemy!" He yelled, again.
"Who replaced urine for your holy water this morning, Father?" I said with a smile.
He raised his finger to me, but then made a fist and put it to his lips. He sighed.
"Roberto, Sanquinto, close the doors." The priest said. They did.
"Laurent. You saw the chapel?"
"Yes."
"You were in the chapel?"
"...Yes"
"Did you see what St. Paul has for holy water?"
"....yeah, no, he was too busy yelling."
"It's blood."
I was shocked.
"...Blood? Why--"
"It is the Blood of Christ. St. Paul says he drank it years ago, centuries ago, and it made him an immortal Catholic. He offered it to you, but you ran off like some little disrespectful fiend!"
"...I didn't know there was blood. And besides, would YOU drink it?" My face still pale.
"He hasn't offered it to me. I am still being tested. Our Lord Father will bath my face in his salvation one day. Either in spurts, or outright."
Now being myself quite, as they say, perverted, I could not help but try as hard as I could to hold back all my laughter and snickers.
"The thing is, St. Paul finds you worthy of the Blood. You must accept it! It is to further God's Cause!"
If I didn't join this stupid little church, I could be on some pillows, eating grapes, with men and women laying at my sides. One big ole' fashion sodomatic fleshfest...But no. I had to join the church. God damn it. God damn Father Peter. God damn St. Paul...and God damn God Himself!
I was excorted to the chapel, much as I tried to seduce Roberto and Sanquinto. All I got out of them was:
"Homosexuality is strictly forbidden, blasphemer."
"You know, that name is really getting old."
So, I was thrown into the chapel at about Mid day, and the doors were locked. Click, slide of the heavy bar from outside to block the doors, bang, trapped. I walked to the holy water offering pan, and sure enough, blood. I almost vomitted.
I sat down at the other end of the chapel and saw a table used for offering food. But oh, no food for I. I must suffer, I didn't take the Eucharist, waa waa. I'll just sit on this pew and--what was that? I heard this scuffling about near the end of the chapel, right by the table. This window was there about two feet wide, possibly to lead rats out of. It was now opened (even it was stained glass and had gold linings).
It was the pretty boy from earlier. He had a bag with him:
"Hello brother Laurent!" He said catching his breath from crawling.
I helped him up off his feet.
"Hello brother...what was your name?"
"Andreas."
I had nightmares all throughout the night. Of St. Paul, of flesh, of carnal pleasures, of Amelia, of blood. I could smell the flesh, I could see blood over my arms, my face. In my dreams, I was on my knees, crying blood, and when I screamed, I gurgled blood from my throat, that I didn't even know was there. So vivid, so ripe, so painful. I put on my robes, straightened them out, then left my little cell.
As I walked down the halls, I could see the other boys running to Father Peter's office. I heard yelling. My god, it was just a few hours before Mid day and already yelling. And what with barely any restful sleep, I was teetering on the brink of passing out right on the very floor I was walking upon. As I peered forward, I could see a group of boys surrounding the walls of the office, trying to make out the yelling and whispers.
One boy came up to me and told me to go the opposite way. Now this boy was unlike the others. He actually kept his long hair. Long, beautiful shoulder length black hair. I wanted to kiss him when he wetted his lips and puckered them in nervouseness before he spoke.
"Why? What have I done wrong?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.
"It's St. Paul, he offered you the Eucharist and you rejected him!"
"I did no such thing! That St. Paul is a few bats loose of a complete belfry!" I spat out.
"Well Father Peter is up his pole about you rejecting the Body of Christ! Hurry! Go! He is sending some of the men after you!"
"He offered me nothing! And what is this, some hench men after me? Let them catch me! I dare him to send them!" I said with my pointed finger pointing to the floor in a means of standing my ground.
"There he is! There he is Father! Blasphemer come hither!" One of the hench men yelled.
"I'm not moving a foot. You come get me since it seems you want me so bad!" I scoffed.
As they were walking toward me, the boy was trying to push me to run the other direction. I would not. I am Laurent! I do not run. Well, I know, you're reminding me about last night. Well hey, something that shakes an entire building and roars and is after YOU, you'd run too. Now shush.
So, these hench men apprehended me and took me to the office of a fuming priest (never a good thing, mind you). Here I was, sitting down, calm as can be, and there he was ranting about blasphemy.
"Why did you reject the Eucharist?" He battered into the air.
"I wasn't offered the Eucharist! I wasn't offered any stale bread!" I tried to stand but the men held me down by my shoulders.
"It was offered, and you rejected! Blasphemy!" He yelled, again.
"Who replaced urine for your holy water this morning, Father?" I said with a smile.
He raised his finger to me, but then made a fist and put it to his lips. He sighed.
"Roberto, Sanquinto, close the doors." The priest said. They did.
"Laurent. You saw the chapel?"
"Yes."
"You were in the chapel?"
"...Yes"
"Did you see what St. Paul has for holy water?"
"....yeah, no, he was too busy yelling."
"It's blood."
I was shocked.
"...Blood? Why--"
"It is the Blood of Christ. St. Paul says he drank it years ago, centuries ago, and it made him an immortal Catholic. He offered it to you, but you ran off like some little disrespectful fiend!"
"...I didn't know there was blood. And besides, would YOU drink it?" My face still pale.
"He hasn't offered it to me. I am still being tested. Our Lord Father will bath my face in his salvation one day. Either in spurts, or outright."
Now being myself quite, as they say, perverted, I could not help but try as hard as I could to hold back all my laughter and snickers.
"The thing is, St. Paul finds you worthy of the Blood. You must accept it! It is to further God's Cause!"
If I didn't join this stupid little church, I could be on some pillows, eating grapes, with men and women laying at my sides. One big ole' fashion sodomatic fleshfest...But no. I had to join the church. God damn it. God damn Father Peter. God damn St. Paul...and God damn God Himself!
I was excorted to the chapel, much as I tried to seduce Roberto and Sanquinto. All I got out of them was:
"Homosexuality is strictly forbidden, blasphemer."
"You know, that name is really getting old."
So, I was thrown into the chapel at about Mid day, and the doors were locked. Click, slide of the heavy bar from outside to block the doors, bang, trapped. I walked to the holy water offering pan, and sure enough, blood. I almost vomitted.
I sat down at the other end of the chapel and saw a table used for offering food. But oh, no food for I. I must suffer, I didn't take the Eucharist, waa waa. I'll just sit on this pew and--what was that? I heard this scuffling about near the end of the chapel, right by the table. This window was there about two feet wide, possibly to lead rats out of. It was now opened (even it was stained glass and had gold linings).
It was the pretty boy from earlier. He had a bag with him:
"Hello brother Laurent!" He said catching his breath from crawling.
I helped him up off his feet.
"Hello brother...what was your name?"
"Andreas."