Flash Fiction: "In Faith."

[wolven7]

The light refracted through the stained glass window as if through a prism. His parishioners stood enraptured in dawn, singing hymns of praise to no audible music, except... The priest tilted his head skyward, as he did during most services, and while his flock perhaps assumed that he was raising his face toward their Lord, what he was actually doing was listening. He could always hear something else under their droning song, like a finger around the rim of a wine glass. A constant force in his ears, a resonance in the centre of his brain, and if he could just isolate it...

“Let us pray,” and they bowed their heads and he intoned the words, new-old words, words that he shouldn't be able to form, and yet which were... familiar. The ringing grew higher and louder, and he had to scream the words to be heard above the cacophony. He thought his head might burst from the pressure, but he raised the knife, time after time, and when he was done he turned his face to the rose window. As the glass shattered silently toward him, he felt Its presence, and knew what it was to come home.

©Damien Williams. All Rights.
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This flash fiction was written from thenowhere's prompts. Which is fitting, because every episodic writing exercise I do makes me think of her.

Well over Halfway there. One more tonight, before bed.

Comments

[thenowhere.livejournal.com]

Somehow, I missed this. Goddamn.

Thank you, so much.