Heaven and Hell (NaNoWriMo)

[Alx]

Since my rival Power Shot is not doing anything, here goes my story!


Heaven and Hell



On a dark and gloomy night, a man walked down the dark alleys of London, England. This man was a child of sin, bore no name. He had no home, no place to call his own; his only mistake was to be born. Yet he knew of these things, seeking redemption and acceptance, he was heading to a local church in England, a small church in the heart of the city.

The man himself was no older than thirty-one; he wore a long black leather jacket, clean white tennis shoes, torn up light blue jeans, dark blue shirt and black cowboy shaped hat. His mother was an elderly woman of French royalty, while his father was a wealthy English man. They both had the same thing in common, they worshiped the devil. Satan took advantage of the two, creating a child worthy of himself. The devil spoke to them, granting them a child, who two days later was on their doorstep. But, the bargain was for the family to give up three gold pieces they had received as a gift; Satan had an avid love of gold. But the family being greedy, kept the gold. When the boy was twelve, his mother and father were murdered by a servant of the devil; in front of his own eyes. The man walked up to the kid and said, “Being the devils child, you could not live up to the bargain, be lucky you don’t have a soul you pitiful thing” The man left, but that phrase stuck to the kid for as long as he walked the earth. He lived on his own from then on.

The man had no education, all he had was survival, and he was an avid vampire hunter. He had made a living slaughtering vampires, praying that would redeem himself enough to be worthy of God. But nightmares haunted him for all his life. He was now seeking redemption from a man of the church.

The man exited the alley into the streets. He was close to the church, only about three fourths of a mile away from the church. Heavy drops of rain poured down from the sky. The rain drops felt like a thousand tiny broken crystals scraping against his skin. He had lost track of the time, hoping to arrive with a man of the church inside. After around three minutes, the man arrived at the church. He had only hoped that he had not arrived too late.

He opened the door, feeling a slight breeze come in. The church on the outside looked fairly impressive, it was made of marble, it was about forty feet high, with a large wooden cross on the top, extending about ten feet into the air. On the inside, it was quite small, everything you would expect from a church. It was furnished with wood, everything from the ceiling to the floor, even the pews were carved with wood. Other than that, it was an ordinary church; but the church looked ages old.

“Anyone here?” the man asked loudly.

“Yes, who is it?” an elderly man said, rising from a pew.

The man was a bishop, elderly, probably no younger than sixty. He wore what the people in the church wore, except that he had a wooden cross hanging from his neck. The man that had come in approached him.

“Greetings father, what may I call you?” the man asked.

“Father Mark” the bishop replied.

The man slowly bowed down his head.

“I am sorry father Mark, for I have sinned for being in existence” the man replied, lifting up his head.

Father Mark looked puzzled, almost lost, for everyone is born under God.

“Excuse me, I beg your pardon?” Father Mark asked.

“I am a sin of nature, looking for forgiveness” the man answered back.

“You are in the church of Saint London; everyone is a child of God, no greater, no less.” Father replied, almost relieved.

“May we sit down?” the man asked, taking in a breath afterwards.

They both sat down on the pew to the left. The mans right hand stuttered, it was moving without control. His breath was divided into parts, almost like chapters.

“So what is the problem my son?” Father Mark asked

He hated to be called son, he didn’t know why. He didn’t like in school when they called him son, kid, man, dude, boy and stuff like that. Though he had no name, he made names up for himself, his favorite of which being William.

The man spoke of his past, leaving not one detail behind.

“That sounds farfetched child” Father Mark spoke.

“Look into my eyes Father Mark, for eyes are the window to the soul, and you will see what I am.” The man replied.

Father Mark turned around and put his hands on the mans cheeks. He leaned over and looked into his eyes. There was nothing, his shining green eyes had nothing behind them; it was pitch black, hollow and empty. The bishop fell back, letting his hands free. He was in horror, not once in his life had he seen a demon, much less a child of the devil.

“W-why have you come here you beast?” Father Mark said, fumbling the words as he shuttered with fear.

“I have come for forgiveness. What must I do? I can not even shed a tear, much less give of any emotions. I have tried many things, but none have worked. I can’t sleep, nightmares keep haunting me” the man said, trying to show as much emotion as he possibly could.

“Nightmares?” Father asked. Neither demon, nor beast of hell had ever had dreams, much less nightmares. Not that the Father knew of.

“What are these nightmares… my child?” Father Mark asked, sounding interested yet trying staying calm.

“What is the time Father?” the man asked.

Father Mark took a glance at his watch on his right hand.

“Ten even” he answered.

"If you really want, but I hope that you have some time to spare" the man spoke.

“I’d be more than interested, and I have plenty of time to spare” Father Mark said, swallowing hard.

“Alright, here it goes…”

Word count:1,038