For HIM

For HIM

by GEIST von PA, Oct 3, 2009, 11:53:38 AM
Literature / Prose / Fiction / Science Fiction
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It had to have been the holy spirit in me that day.
Nothing else could explain the way I felt, the stamina, the most wonderful feeling I had as I ran.
I was blind to the world, having only tunnel vision for what was directly ahead of me.

<-----------

I was regretting going with her that morning, I had never gone to that kind of church in my life and I didn't quite understand why I even agreed to go with her.

After being greeted at the door I paused, took in the building around me and was awe struck by the sheer size.

It could have been a very small city, it seemed to me that even though there were no visible food sources being grown, they were very self sufficient.

The architecture, the murals on the walls and ceilings, the gold trim,
Everything was in immaculate shape.

The railings were a nice shiny brass, lush red carpet as we climbed the few steps up into the central cathedral.


We sat ourselves in the front row.
She explained to me how she always sat in the front, something about being closer to god or something.


I was pretty much droned for a good part of the beginning, even nodding off.
That was until I got an elbow in the side of my ribs.

The people began lining up like cattle too feast upon the almighty sacrifice of the blood and body of Christ.
Of course we were one of the first in line.


I'm not quite sure what happened.
I hadn't felt right since I sat my ass in that pew, perhaps it was the atmosphere, the colors of golds reds and blues, or maybe the hypnotic voice of the priest seeping into my head as I was dozing.


All I know is that the minute my lips hit the wine in that chalice I had the sudden urge to do something crazy.

I jumped up on the sturdy, finely stained and polished, railing that led the congregation to the altar like a line at some amusement park.

I hopped between the people standing there staring in shock at what I was doing as I leaped from banister to banister.

Rushing out of the cathedral and heading back down the steps with the lush red carpet and brass railings, through a couple doors, past someone holding a tray of Champaign glasses, I grabbed a flute from the tray and downing it in one gulp I continued for the front door.


I burst through the door like a child exiting from a tube at a water park.
Leaping the 12 steps I hit the ground running.

Trees lined the street, there were very few cars in this part of town.
It was Autumn, the differently colored leaves adorned the trees as well as the side walks and road.


It was 12 miles to where I was heading.
I knew the map back to front, I had driven it for the past 10 years every other weekend and on occasions during the week.
But. Never have I walked, let alone run this course.


The details of my run are vague at best.
I remember some people stopping to watch as I ran in the streets, jumping cars, and just outright acting like a wild person.

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It was only after I stumbled a bit that I noticed I was still holding the chalice.
Drops of wine swirling the cusp of the cup.
In my other hand was a beautiful flute shaped champagne glass, the contents mimicking that of the chalice.
I slowed, in a panic I searched for somewhere to hide them.


I spotted an old warn granite bench beside a waist high wall.
Under the bench was a bit of foliage, this is where I hid the chalice and the flute.

--

I reached their house in a little over an hour.
Rang the door bell, She answered.
I stated I would like to see my son.
I saw him playing on the floor and when he looked up meeting his eyes to mine, his face instantly ratifying happiness.

We played the rest of the day, even mommy and her new husband joined us is a game of tickle-monster.
That evening I said my goodbye.

My friend had come to pick me up.
As we slowly drove down the lane I watched my son playing and chasing rabbits in the yard.

As we reached the end of the lane I noticed that he was called into the house, something in the pit of my stomach said not to leave but to go back and investigate.

I told my friend to stop the car and wait for me at the end of the lane.
It was dark round the house and as I peered into the window I noticed both of them yelling at him and ordering him up the steps.
I saw her husband strike him and say something is a sarcastic tone "Us not beat him?! Pffftt.."
Her and my son had gone up the stairs, he was sitting in the chair reading the news paper.
I hopped the railing to the porch, swung the front door open, which was never locked, and meet him in a standing gaze.
I ran at him in rage, his arms out to protect himself, but I managed to break through and landed a sucker punch to the left side of his face knocking him on to his back and me following as he grappled my shoulders.
I grab his keys from the hook on his belt loop and pressed them into his eyes,
He let out a yelp and then I stopped.
I gave him a good left hook before getting up and trudging up the stairs.

They were in their rooms, but she was still paying no mind to me.
I went to my sons room opened the door and was struck from behind.
The world went black for a few seconds and before the blackness faded I swung around grabbing the bastard who struck me.

It was her husband.
I managed to get him to the ground again and saying in a snarled voice, while holding the keys to his eyes, again.

"You will either lay there and shut up or I will gouge your eyes completely out! Now. I don't want to have to do that in front of my son, but I will if I have to." His eyes began to bleed a little.

My son standing there, quiet, just watching my every move the whole time.

Just then she came in the room.

"I want my son right now you child abusers!" - I demanded
"He isn't your son." - She said calmly.
"Well. Not exactly, anyway." - She added
What the hell do you mean. 'Not mine exactly' ?! - I asked
"It's time you knew the truth" - She said, as she sat next to our son on the bed.

Her husband was still laying on the floor as I stood over him with the keys like claws through the slits in my fingers.

"He's a clone" - She said.
"A what?!" - I ask
"Five years ago your, our, son was killed in a car accident." - she started, all the while holding our son.