The Devil's Death

Chapter Seven: Godliness

Soft piano music rung out in the lounge echoing in the large room. It was now well past midnight and the Mareks were still in our home.

Feryn, Ore and My parents were sat together at a table.

Feryn hummed to himself "I have to apologise. My son is a bit of an ass. We've tried to discipline him but he's just... Not the most responsive of boys."

My dad, Naiden weakly accepted that shitty defense.
"He's what 22? They're adults. Responsible for themselves. I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding. Besides... We don't want any bad blood between us."

Ore tutted to herself looking over at her son who was leaning against the door disinterested in their conversation.

I was parallel sitting on the lounge couch watching him attentively...
His pet continued to stand by him and I felt irritated.

I hummed up at them.
" I want payback though."

My father seethed at me from over his shoulder
"You shut up you imbecile! Payback my foot!"

Ore smiled in some sly way I recognised but giggled with an intriguing comment.
"I have a better idea."

That following morning I was driven to a meeting point and found myself on the grey day waiting outside an old battered church.

I scoffed to myself in horror and disgust.

Lovely. This is the shit I have to deal with. Great.

Hurrying up the stairway I knocked on the door and was lead in by and old meek looking man.

He scowled at me before moving out of the way.

"Please, Mr Russworth. Go on ahead."

A chill travelled up my spine as I walked in.
The visage of abandoned glory. The dim lights. The silent air or repentence. The smell of dust and candle smoke.
A sense of entrapment.

There was still 10 minutes left to 9am.
I wondered what I would be expected to do here.

Sitting down at a pew I looked over the statues of Mary and her baby Jesus.

I lowered my head to the ground. Well it was no wonder the place was so battered and empty... The church was as abandoned as the faith it was home to.

At that moment the doors creaked open again and I looked back only to see someone walk into the dark room. A tall slim shadow with sunglasses and a large fur coat.

Ugh what an ass.
It was Koryn.

He marched down the aisle before dropping down on the end of my pew, resting one leg over the other and leaning back like this were his private lounge.

"What are we doing here?"
I groaned in growing impatience.

He sighed, removing his shades, his eyes were clear and something about them today seemed warmer.
"Repenting. My mom was taught Christianity at a young age. Whenever I'd fuck up she'd send me to my room to ground me. I'd always find ways to have fun though."
He inhaled and sighed long. "Eventually I was sent here to do the time instead. Think of it as a religious jailtime."

I giggled at the thought "Does that mean the Priests and holy ones are the longest criminals held here?"

He smirked back at me.
"I'd like to think so. Jesus didnt speak much to me growing up."

I groaned in disgust "That was the point you amoeba. God doesn't talk to anyone! Prophets were all madmen who recited hopeful poetry which made people feel better about their lives."