Ambrose I

Dully the church bell tolled as screams echoed within the chapel. Abbey thrashed as serval priest pinned him on to the altar while the Father ensnared his head.

“Repent, my child! Repent!” roared the Father, “And be cleansed of all you filthy wrong doings. For ye are full of bile and spite. Lord, bless this child as his fag lover descends into the fiery pits of hell!” 

Abbey! Please help me! Don’t let them take me away! Abbey!”

Jerking awake Abbey’s pale body was drenched in sweat, while his azure eyes adjusted to the darkened bedroom. He panted as the haunting memory retreated back into his subconscious, leaving him cold and numb.

“Shit, what brought that up.” he hissed as he dragged his fingers through his crimson hair. With a glance at the table side clock, he groaned and collapsed back into his bed.

“Damn it’s only three in the morning. Still got another three hours before the meeting. Shit.”

An hour painfully crept by as he stared up at the ceiling bored. With a sigh, he got up and lazily wandered to the bathroom, where he splashed cold water on his face. He peered up through his bangs into the mirror and winced.  His reflection reviled many sleepless nights, due to the late sessions of prayers, and nightmares.

“C’mon Abbey old boy get yourself together. Q&R’s are sharks and they’ll do anything to blow this meeting. You have been preparing for three months now, you got this.”

He had to be prepared, the congregation of Great Horizon Chapel was counting on him. Not just as one of the priests, but as their financial spokesman for the chapel was on the brink of foreclosure. With the remaining hours, he got ready and prepared himself a light breakfast, and headed to the chapel.

Upon entering the chapel Abbey noticed worshippers had already begun their morning prayers. A little smile pulled at his lips as he entered a back room where the other priest resided.  Inside many priests whispered nervously, fearfully, that they didn’t seem to notice him, well all but one.

“Morning my son.”

Abbey glanced over his shoulder to see the Father, his father approach in robes.

“Morning Father Davidson.”

The man’s green eyes saddened, “Why can’t you call me dad?”

“Because you are the Father of this chapel, and a high ranking man of God shouldn’t have a lone child. The flock are your children, I’m just one on many. Do you have the documents I asked for?”

Father Davidson sighed, and handed him a binder, “Do you think we have a chance?”

Abbey smiled and press his forehead to his father’s, “I’ll give it my all Father.”

The meeting dragged into the afternoon, and not once did the Q&R’s director utter a word. It was unnerving thought Abbey as he adjusted his collar. To make it worst he was staring at him and no one else.

“Gentlemen, allow me to educate and elevate you. As the board here can tell, this chapel is one of the oldest building in Garigill, therefore, it should be protected as a historical site. I have a document here in the actual words of the town’s historian that this chapel is rightfully a historical site.”

Abbey fumbled through the stack of paper to only to yank backward when the document he needed was soaked in blood. He couldn’t catch his breath as the red liquid oozed across the table and dripped onto the floor.

“Abbey are you alright?” his father whispered.

Abbey shook his head and stared at the bleached white papers in front of him. There was blood. He saw it.

“I’m fine, I’m just tired I guess.” he whispered as he nervously restacked the documents.

The board members started whispering to one another in critical tones, except for the director who smiled up at him. The meeting came to a close in the worst way possible, they had lost.


He had failed them. Abbey bit his lip as he gripped the bathroom sink until his knuckles turned white. They were all counting on him and he lost, their devastated faces burned in his mind.

‘It’s painful when they destroy something priceless of yours no?’

Abbey whipped around to no one, as a chill ran up his spine. Quickly retreating out of the small bathroom he made his way to the living room.

‘I must be going crazy.’ he thought as he eased himself onto the couch, ‘Perhaps some mind numbing television can help smooth my nerves.’

The small TV came to life with the evening news blaring. “Woman Savagely Murdered By Escaped Mental Patient” the headline read. The press were surrounding a middle age man at a podium. In the background, a massive building rose up out of the fog behind him. An arch sign above his head read “Riverside Asylum”

The man cleared his throat and started the interview, “This was a fluke in our system. At Riverside Asylum the staff and I  take great responsibly in the care of our patients and their loved ones who come to visit them. Mr. Bush God bless his soul, had an unsteady mind he will be missed. My prayers go to the Koran family, may Lisa Koran rest in peace. No further questions.”

Abbey sat there glued to the screen as the known details of the crime came to life. Minutes passed when suddenly the TV went black.

“What the?”

Crawling off the couch he came to rest in front of the TV when it roared to life, static screeching.

“What the hell!” he screamed falling onto his elbows.

Just as fast as the static came it shut off leaving a blue screen in its wake. In the top left corner, a message started and filled the screen.

Abbey please save me.

Ambrose II

9 thoughts on “Ambrose I

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