“I am mourning, my eyes are stained
I feel his sacred tears upon me
His sobs strike against my heart
The faceless, haunts me
Scared but perfect and beautiful”

‘I have to tell it, I have to get it off my chest… I need to write it! Can’t you understand?  For my own sanity I must write!’
‘Tell it, tell it all… don’t write, don’t keep the sin alive…’
‘How can I? No. It will riddle in the air… Shht, Father, I cannot speak more of this.’
‘So what are you planning to do?’
‘Write it… burn it… Ashes to ashes, dust to dust… it will be lost.’
‘And the ashes? And the dust that remains?’
‘Time will make it forgotten… and the lies will cover it. My cross will be washed.’
‘No, my son… Don’t continue in peccadillo. You must not think of it… you must pray!’
‘I can’t… I see it before me. Even if I have my eyes open… I see it! I must liberate myself somehow… I must. I will. May God forgive me.’
So, he rose from the cold floor… the rug didn’t manage to stop the coldness of the stone from reaching him. He felt his knees weak an aching… but he walked in the light. He could hear the priest’s last words and somehow he knew he wasn’t supposed to hear anything…
‘Indeed. The mischievous sprite is above you… Pater Nostri…’

Whispers…. Whispers… Ah!! Why do they all whisper? Please give me silence!

Winters are so cold here, but so perfectly beautiful… White ground… mourning purity. He looked so confused while exiting the church but put his black sun glasses on and wrapped his coat tighter to his shivering body and he also pressed his hat firmly on his head… driving his fingers through his long dark brown hair right after putting his grey gloves on. He walked slowly on the path made in the snow, with his eyes looking as his own boots as he made step by step. He knew the road, he didn’t need to look up and for a fraction of a second he wanted to turn for the dormitories. Realizing what he was about to do, he straightened his pace, embarrassed, hoping no one saw his mistake, hoping no one would recognize him.

No… I’m such an idiot. God, help me! I left this place. I’m glad I did, you know this wasn’t for me. Worthless I was in here. It’s better where I am now… What is it with me?

He went through the wooden gates of the monastery and felt like the first time he deserted from this place. He could not return ever again, his soul was too stained with the guilt. He hated God, a hatred he couldn’t explain… but he still asked for His help. Within the monastery ground he felt the urge to believe and speak of no bad but while walking on the road to the town his anger awaked.

Pathetic fool! God doesn’t care for you! Want to do something? Do it yourself! Asking for pity… you never change.
He walked directly in an old inn and asked for some mulled wine while sitting on a chair near a fire place. It wasn’t so warn in the room so he left his hat on, just unbuttoning his coat. He stood examining his hands thinking about the veins he could clearly see under his skin, about his long nails. He felt his hands so rough but he could do nothing about them.
When the waitress came to serve him he intentionally took the mug from her own hands, touching her slowly with his palms. She said nothing but gave a warm, pleasant smile rubbing her hands together as she did when she put cream on them.
He didn’t know what to think, he never thought of how to unwind the reactions he got, he just wanted to do what his mind imagined. The scent of the spice from the hot wine invaded his smell and he closed his eyes but opened them back in a second because he feared the image. He didn’t want to think about that, at least not for now… he remembered that he had the cigarettes with him. So, he stood in that bar half an hour, enjoying the fire and the alcohol in his arms and legs. He could admit he was fairy bored but it was either this or the coldness outside.
After he finished the wine he asked for some food and another mug. It was given to him in short time… he didn’t feel drunk at all, just very warm. He settled his eyes on the waitress that was approaching.
‘Sir, May I give you something else?’
‘No, thank you.’
‘Perhaps you’d wish a room. It’s already dark.’
‘No, it’s only seven o’clock. I’ll be on my way.’
‘As you wish, sir, here is your check.’
He gave her the money and also asked her to change some coins for him. He opened his palm but she caressed him with hers while taking the money, without letting him drop them in her hand. That made him smile, he took his gloves and went out again. Snow was falling shyly and he barely noticed, still… he felt a cold drift invading his clothes.
He walked without stopping until he got near the city, he took a bus. He sat exactly on the last seat as he knew it was warmer there because of the radiator. He paid for a ticket and thought of home, but what was he going to do home? He needed some company, but didn’t want to speak just be spoken at, he wanted to listen to somebody’s problems without having to give them advices at the end. He wasn’t good at that. He knew it very well, his advices would be so pessimistic and also, he didn’t want to interfere in someone’s life. He had enough problems as it was. Suddenly he had an idea and got out of the bus., he was in the centre of the town, and he began running, crossed the street and went down the stairs in the park. A pretty awkward park, some might think. He ran on the alley until he lost his breath. His lungs screamed within him: cold air, cigars, running… that was too much!
He stopped, listened and looked at the water that was flowing beside him, beside the stone pavement. There were no lights in that park, it was in the heart of the city but nobody cared for it. Only a small, old light with an eerie glow and he never saw something like it, something more beautiful than that winter picture. The fog, the snow, the trees… all was heavenly white. No one passed by there… the snow was untouched. He kneeled. It seemed the only thing eh could do… repeating… the same word: “beautiful”. He sat down near a tree and he let the snow fall on him. The water was the only thing alive and the only sound, except the dogs that were barking near by from time to time. He couldn’t see far way in the dark, just what the light allowed him to see and with the fog it was impossible to view every detail. He was content, happy… tired.

Tired… so tired. All hurts, all my body. Please give me peace!

So… he died in his sleep…. Drowning in the simple darkness of sleep, drowning in the whiteness of the snow... He felt no body. He felt no pain… Cold… cold… cold… coldness…

What? Where? Awake!

‘You’re pretty much awake, but sleep… its better’
‘The beauty, my lord.’
He opened his eyes as much as he could but he could only manage to see blackness, a minute source of light that he couldn’t identify and the face of a man… He didn’t want to think of discovering who the man was so he closed his eyes again.
‘Do not speak… you’re going to die. It’s as simple as that. Sleep well, lovely. This image will be the last you’ll remember. Winter, trees, snow… the poisonous snow. Ah, and your breathe… colder and colder… as well as your blood. Frozen beauty, your place is here among the silence and the snow. Tomorrow, two days from now… maybe they’ll find your body. The snow will be your tomb, it will cover you… the snow will be your angels descending from heaven, the forest – your graveyard. For what more can you ask, my precious? Now, now… don’t be selfish. Oh, but I know this is what you want. That is why you sat here in the first place. I bid adieu from thee. May the dead guide you, beautiful. Rest in peace.’

Please give me peace! “Miserere mei, Deus secundum magnam misericordiam tuam.” Why are you mourning, symphony? I’m not dead! Whose tears are these? No! No! Not you! Away! Flee! I’m resting… resting. Who are you? Death? God? Agony? Sickness? WHAT are you? I fear! I fear! I FEAR!

“Silence... then Heaven…”

‘Breathe!’

All his body hurt him terribly. And he wanted to cry his pain. His voice couldn’t be heard. What was this he couldn’t tell… he couldn’t realize where he was. An odor of incense tickled his nose in a most pleasant manner. He could hear somebody taking to him but he could also hear the voice… that voice… whispering as always. He raised his arms and took his head into his hands, trying to block it. His body ached, he screamed in pain. The follower’s hands enchained him and he struggled to make them disappear. Heaven hurt. Was it God slapping him? What happened? Or was this Hell? Of course… he deserved Hell.

The seventh circle of Dante’s Inferno...

The seventh circle of Dante’s Inferno... that was what he deserved. He knew very well, he read the book more then two times… and he realized that not even Purgatory is for him. In his heart he hated God. Or did he love Him? Did he love Him so much that he couldn’t bear to be ignored? The lost sheep must be brought back on the right track by the shepherd…

“Yeah, thou I walk through the valley of the shadow of death… I will feel no evil” Please!

The hands stopped touching him and he fell in a deep sleep as he felt every muscle of his body relaxing in pain and the blood flowing like a dagger. When will we stop feeling the pain? He slept. He dreamt of a requiem sang by archangels. And the most beautiful voice was that of the first watcher… the one people use to call Lucifer. Oh, how beautiful he was! The most beautiful of them all! And his voice was above all others… and he sang of… death. They were all singing of death, of the magnificent death. In the eyes of one, which he believed to be Rafael he saw tears.

Stop crying… your tears fall on my face and I can’t carry the burden of your sorrow! Stop crying, beautiful one… For whom is the rebellious angel crying? Radiant one... your beautiful lips… let them descend on my face. God banished you, but I’ll caress you forever.

‘Why are you crying?’
He woke and he realized the tears on his face were his and there were no angels in the chamber he was. It was not heaven. It was not hell. It was a simple room. No ghosts, just a human voice.
‘Why are you crying?’
He searched for the one talking and his eyes found a girl. A beautiful girl, her dark brown hair loosen in timid curls. She looked worried and very serious. For a moment her seriousness made him fear but he kept staring in her brown eyes. He noticed her eyes first and the mascara that made them seemed even more clear and honest. She took step by step to get near to his bed and he couldn’t say a word. He tried to move and he was grateful that he could feel his body responding to his actions.
‘You can move. That’s a good thing. Luckily, I found you on time… I didn’t know what to do. I brought you here instead of taking you to a hospital.’
She sat on the edge of the bed and put her hand to his forehead… she looked concerned by his temperature and rose to get some tea. She made him drink it until the last drop but he hated it. It tasted awful, a dreadful taste of medicine. Boiled water with medicine and plans… he hated it.
‘What is your name? I’m curious.’
‘I don’t want to speak…’
He began coughing so hard he had to stop and make signs he wants more tea.  
‘…of myself. Call me Nobody. It’s appropriate.’
‘Haha, interesting sense of humor.’
He didn’t find that funny. He didn’t find anything funny for weeks. A ruin – that’s what he was. He wanted home even if he knew he had no place to call home because in his apartment he felt a stranger. And who was this girl asking him about his miserable life? Did she really want to know?
‘Who are you? Where am I? I’m sorry. I’m rude.’
‘Never mind, my name is… Alex, Alexandra, however you please. I gave you two names now you must give me one.’
He was not going to give his real name; he wanted not to speak of names, of jobs, of lives. So he invented one… actually, it was not invented. At the monastery he chose that name so he was used to being called that…
‘Gabriel…’
She nodded and continued saying that he’s in her house in the center of the city.
‘How did you find me? I don’t recall seeing… I recall seeing a man! Truly I must say I don’t know for sure what I really saw.’
‘Well, Gabriel… I was with a companion. We were returning from one of our friend’s anniversary and we took the short road through the park. We found you. My idiot friend wanted us to leave you there because he thought you were drunk. I mean, he was the drunken one! He could scarcely speak. Why did you lay there in the first place?’
‘To die.’
Alex’s eyes got dimmer and suspicious as she was going to ask something very important, as she needed to fill up some blanks with the vital information she needs.
‘Oook, what music do you listen to?’
That question made him smile, he was expecting something else. He was expecting for her to call him mad, a lunatic... instead she asks something completely different. And it seemed this was her nature, she brought joy to him… something not many could do just by asking a stupid question.
‘Alex, why does that even matter? Ask me something else… anything else.’
She studied him for a second longer and invited him to come and have dinner. Which they did. Together. And they talked about something they found to have in common and that was books. They read the same books, the same author… they discussed everything from religions to cosmetics… That was the point where He just stopped and listened to her talking about so many strange names for him. He remained in her apartment for the next nights… because she could make him think straight. She helped him not surrender in front of his lunacy, in front of his visions, of his dreams. Gabriel was a haunted man, a tormented man… He was tortured by visions, my dreams, by darkness, by sexuality, by the faceless… he was damned and she knew that. He told her about his suffering and she understood.

Dream. I want to stop dreaming of this shadow. I want to be free and I want to feel pain. I need to feel something. I need an out lid to help me release all the anguish. A blade… and I will… the holy pain… the holy wine dripping down my hand; the holy bread is stained with blood and tears.

He was alone… alone in her house and he stood watching how his blood ran down her floor. He didn’t want to kill himself. He just wanted to feel something! Anything! His never-ending depression got him numb even to more bitterness. His laughter was not fake it was just controlled by a force too big for him to cast away. But deep inside, he knew very well he liked suffering… no… not liked… he just rather preferred this to ignorance. What he knew… nobody knew. What he felt… nobody felt.  Whenever he crossed a street his head was up high, mocking everyone. Laughing inside of their stupidity then crying for his misery.

You never understood! Please give me silence! You never will! I won’t die for you! I won’t do as I promised. I’m not your sacrifice!

He found something to cover his wound with… but the cut still screamed to the sky and then began torturing him. He could not use his left hand properly. He noticed that when he wanted to pick up the telephone because it was ringing for some time now. His voice trembled as so did his hand. He did not recognize the voice on the other end and tried to remain calm and polite. The woman’s voice was searching for Alex. The dialog was short because he dropped the phone which accidentally fell in its place.
Gabriel rose and put his coat on. It had been four days but it was time for him to go home. He walked slowly to his house leaving his telephone number one of the desks for her to find. The road to his apartment seemed longer then before and the wind was making his eyes drown in tears.
Eventually he reached the place and opened his computer. He put some music on and took his violin from its case. He played following the music, he couldn’t create his own songs… his ideas and his notes didn’t want to come out of the bow in the right order. His music has utter noisy chaos. He liked to play with the low notes but that was all. All he felt he could do. Only when having the violin in his hands did he notice how much he had missed it. He fell asleep while embracing it tight to his body.
So, he dreamt of a man… a man singing in the shadows. A man playing a violin, but not any kind of violin, it was a Stradivarius. He took his knees in his arms and he listened to that shade. How beautiful was his song…

Who are you? Why are you playing for me? And what are you singing? Paganini?

No response, it was only the music that filled the room and he did not dare ask more. He was satisfied with the harmony he was receiving. In the morning he was so angry with himself for falling asleep in his dream, for following the dreamy theme of a song. He couldn’t ever sing like that. It was pointless to even try, so he destroyed the violin’s bow… and put in his place, in the case, a withered rose. It was a funeral gesture done with all the respect that was asked in such a situation. He sworn with his hand on the case that he will never play again. Since that moment a violin tune began to play in his mind… and since that particular moment the faceless was singing at the violins. It wasn’t just the breath, now it was music as well.
It was already dark when he began walking to Alex’s house. He missed her and her crazy jokes. He did not knock in the door but instinctively entered. Only after he had opened the door and took a few steps inside did he become conscious that what he did was very impolite. Still, he walked in the living room and found at the window another girl. It wasn’t Alex because this girl had longer hair with an orange red tone and whoever she was she did not realize that someone was in the doorway as nobody heard when Gabriel walked in a room, he was quiet by nature.
The solemnly of that moment amazed him and he took two steps letting his shoes make audible sounds on the wooden floor. And as he expected she turned startled… and again he felt stunned by her eyes. She was like a character in the books he read and he told that character’s name out loud.
‘I’d wish… I think… Gabriel? Alex told me about you.’ she answered with a half frightful voice.
He nodded and waited patient for a name... he must have had an indifferent attitude. It was his regular one towards new people. He had to admit that making friends wasn’t his greatest ability. He studied her while walking from a part of the room to another, still in a rather uncomfortable silence for her… as he could tell.
‘Mona.’ She murmured.

Mona… I’ve heard it before. She knows. She’ll figure all out.

Mona… so many things to say about her and yet very few… it’s a shame. She’s a silent one and wants only to listen, to know, to learn. Her eternal low self esteem. He hated that. He could choke her to dead just because she always said that she is ugly. Gabriel and Mona talked until he decided to go. Yes, he was right. Mona was going to figure all out… either that or Alex will tell her. He didn’t feel bothered by any of these possibilities. Actually, he wished she’d do it quick.
There was a period of silence between Gabriel and the two girls, period in which he stood home and cried. He would read his book and cry with every line. It wasn’t actually “his” book but he could identify with the character. Nobody could do it as he did.

What do you think about a blond haired Jesus?

He loved him as a master, as a lover, as God… as his own person. Such a narcissistic thought. But he was stronger, he did not fear.

I’m weak… I don’t deserve love and adoration from anyone. What could other see in me? They should fear me more then they fear the devil as I am nothingness, a bottomless well and I look like an angel.

And in the heavenly hell something odd started to happen. Dreams intensified and so did the feeling of being watched and followed everywhere. Gabriel felt the pressure of someone’s eyes always watching. Events in his life started to link to these dreams. You don’t need to understand this period of his life even if it might be considered as the most crucial point of his existence. Gabriel understood and accepted. He had to face it all alone. To face his fears. Fears that he asked to come. They came… firstly, in dreams as they always did. The violin song stopped but the voice didn’t, the whispers didn’t.

Please give me silence!

A glimpse of black hair and a glance to see his eyes. He knew who it was. The silhouette of a young man, dressed entirely in black. He called him and now he struggled to admit He was in front of him. Black, curled hair that reached his shoulders…. and the eternal, beautiful eyes of light color to match his skin tone. In front of him, Gabriel lost his mind and forgot about anything. He ran and embraced him and he could hear his phantom speak. He felt it all, he felt the fabric of clothes and the other’s soft skin, while the man started laughing, mocking him.
‘What do you want from me?’
Gabriel’s eyes were following his and he was confused, surprised, fascinated. He responded while still holding the man’s waist, feeling his perfect body lines. Gabriel wanted to believe. Gabriel had faith. For him this was a treat.
‘Haha, you foolish little boy, you’re too petite for this…. a lily that has yet to bloom. Stop searching for me! Give me peace!’
‘But… please… don’t go. I’ve searched for you…’
‘No, my lily… Leave me alone!’

The man pushed Gabriel away and grinned in a lustful manner but still mocking the other’s tears and desolation. Gabriel yelled he will continue searching him mo matter the circumstances and he could feel his voice fading in to the devoid.
Why are you crying?
He jumped pout of bed and headed towards the window where he opened it and inhaled a breath of air, he felt like chocking with his own haze. He turned violently when realizing what he had just dreamt and picked up a notebook trying to draw the face of the one he saw… White, clean, beautiful, faceless… but what could he draw? The white sheet of paper was enough to descry his phantasmal love. He went into the shower and lost himself in that miniature rain, almost forgetting his own name and purpose…. If he had one.
That night he drowned in alcohol and his own pitiful imagination. He got himself vodka, wine and two packages of cigarettes. He stood on the carpet with only a candle as a source of light and the TV that was running on some unknown channel to him. He listened to the voices coming out of the set, from behind the walls, from outside, from the hall way, from his veins. He drank and smoked without stopping for hours; he sometimes crawled to the window and stared outside, looking at street lamps and at the ruins of an old hotel. He wanted a girl to hold in her arms, to feel her breast and her neck in his hands. He was a sinner and he accepted his punishment with regret but not wanting to mend his errors.
An hour pass midnight he realized that he had no more cigarettes so he put on his coat, leaving it unbuttoned and walked into the cold winter. Everything was quiet and serene and he felt the fresh air making its way into his weary lungs. He did not feel the coldness of the night, he only felt the beauty of the darkness. He couldn’t leave that incredible beauty so he started walking to a park. And then he remembered about the boy, the boy he always passed by… that boy that stood on the same bench every night with his guitar in his hands and a pencil - composing. He wanted to see if the boy was still there. He lighted a cigar and went that way and for his amazement the boy was in his usual ….

What the hell is he still doing here? If I could only paint him… as he plays. So beautiful is this curled hair, a seraph ignoring the whole world just composing….

The boy suddenly raised his eyes as he sensed he was being watched. Gabriel encountered a brutal face with an unwelcome expression but he stepped in the light of the street lamp. The boy gave him a smile and offered him a ‘Good evening!’ and lowered his black eyes again to the guitar. Gabriel knew he didn’t salute him because he wanted a conversation but because he saw him every night and was accustomed to seeing him pass.
Gabriel did not go by him as so many times before but stood in front of him while leaning over a tree, smoking…
The boy didn’t look at him anymore but started playing the song he wrote from the beginning as to show his visitor what he had done so far. Gabriel had no expression on his face but he could feel very weak because of the alcohol.

“Walk without limbs
Walk through my soul”

‘What? What did you say?’

Gabriel walked towards the boy and gently took the guitar from his hands while placing it on the bench, near him…

‘What? What are…?’
‘Shht…’

Gabriel had no idea of what he was doing… of what he wanted to do but he started to caress the boy’s neck while speaking in whispers something that he couldn’t understand why he is repeating…

‘Walk without limbs
Walk Through my soul’

The boy began to shiver and tried to push him away but when he felt Gabriel’s tongue of his neck, he trembled and relaxed in an instant, as the pleasure invaded him. His face soon started burning with shame and desire. Gabriel kissed him on his silky lips but that was too much as the boy pushed him away.

What is it with me? What? What must…?

The boy took his guitar and his papers while breathing heavy and looking at Gabriel in anger.
‘Drunk! You’re crazy! You know that? I’m straight, you fag!’
Gabriel stood on the ground saying nothing as he couldn’t find the right words, he didn’t even watch the boy but looked far away in some unidentified point. He could see the boy turning his back at him.

This moment I am solitary as you watch me, eyeless. Gabriel laid on the ground and thought of the one who haunts him.

Come!

Gabriel closed his eyes and forgot about the world. Who would have seen his there would have surely mourned for centuries to come. They would lay him in a graveyard near one of the gothic crosses and leave him there to rot.

But he is not dead, Mary, don’t you weep! He will have his requiem and his murders will witness his redemption. Now, don’t persecute me with your weeping. Please give me silence!

Gabriel searched in his pocket for another cigar and because he moved he dared to raise his body from the ground. He began walking back home and there he took a pencil and started writing on the walls: “Please give me my peace!”

Please give me my peace!

He then fell on the bed, exhausted and too sleepy to make any more movements. He just kept thinking about that boy, how his body wanted him, how his muscles contracted and relaxed under his tongue… but his mind rejected him. And what a pleasant scent did that boy have….

“Walk without limbs
Walk through my soul”

The next day he was on his feet in the middle of the room, all dressed and looking at his walls. Terrible thing to do!

What was I thinking? My god, I have destroyed this chamber… I’m an idiot. Stupid! Stupid!

‘Gabriel? Gabriel? Ah, what happened here?’
He turned. It was Alex’s voice and beside her was Mona.
‘Please give me my peace? What is that supposed to mean?’
‘Exactly what it does, we should go Alex. Maybe Gabriel wants to be alone.’
‘No. No. Please. Take me with you. Please.’

He returned at night after talking a whole day with the two girls and he enjoyed their presence very much. He loved them both very much, he knew he could choke them with his love. So, he maintained a distance, hearing them talk, talking with them… inhaling their breath, touching the same spots they touched, taking Mona’s hand and Alex’s waist as they walked.    

He fell on his knees and began shivering, crying silent, his hands trembling, his tears falling without control. He would have liked to rip off his flesh and end the suffering in his heart but he couldn’t. The sensation of being nothing took over him again and it reigned for several minutes while he crawled in a corner of the room, screaming as someone hit him.

Don’t kill me. I’m already dead.

When did those arms embrace him he could not tell but those arms tried to protect him not harm him. He felt a woman’s chest holding him close. He embraced her as she tried to tell him something.
‘Why are you crying?’
He looked at her, a woman with a deep voice. His hands were bloody and now he had dirtied her hair with blood. His wounded wrist had opened as it did not heal completely and now his blood was dripping on her black shirt. She took his face into her palms and looked into his eyes and he could also see the shades of green in hers. She was wonderful, beautiful, perfect… so he buried his face in her black hair and in her neck… he felt her breasts pressed to his chest and he began kissing her shoulder very shy. She laughed.

Why do they all laugh at me?

‘Why are you crying, moonchild?’
She led him to his bed wanting him to rest…
‘I’ll be beside you, my dark angel. You just rest. I’ll watch over you.’

I want you…

She looked at his wrist avidly but did not move and did not change her smile. He rose and drove his hand to the back of her head while kissing her. She kissed him back without restrain and she put her hand on his neck. His tongue slipped in her mouth and he soon felt hers coming to great him. He couldn’t remember when was the last time he had kissed somebody as he kissed her now… wanting her, loving her, surrendering in front of her and dominating her.
So, she took off what he was wearing and put her hand over the little pentagram he had over his neck and he could feel her mouth smiling as she kissed him.

Laughing, my beauty? I’ll put an end to that. Who is this marble doll with such smooth skin?

He turned and she got under him… he unbuttoned her shirt and his hot chest felt her breasts and another much colder object. It was a gothic iron cross. It was his time to grin in her lips. She had her hands into his hair and when he stopped to admire her he observed that her body was full of blood stains from his wrist… and he instinctively started liking those spots of blood and he wanted to bite from her flesh, to feel the taste of flesh and blood in his mouth, but in the same time she took his bleeding wrist and began licking it, draining it.

What? Oh… my god, my god… I love you.

When she felt his wrist it wasn’t bleeding so hard anymore but he felt lithe headed for a few seconds and covered her with his body. In his mind were playing the same words: ‘My god, my god… love, love…’
And they made love… and every time he bended over her, his pentagram would hit the cross she wore making a sound like a chime. When they stopped he bended over her lips and then went down to her cross kissing it like when Christians finish a pray.
He sat next to her and began trembling and with her in his arms he fell asleep.


Blood, blood pouring from the sky… Silence… Then, Heaven…
Your death will be eternal… And the violins will haunt you forever. A curse upon you! A curse upon you! Sacrifice in my name or live forever… Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…

‘I had a dream father.’
‘What is it, my son?’
‘I… I dreamt that Jesus lies dying in my bed, he never really lived. Last night I beat him as he would not leave my insane eyes stare at him as his welted body bleeds frequently I rape him as I know nothing else he curls up like a fetus and paints his face with sadness now a fragment of remorse has etched I bandage his wounds, I kiss the face of Jesus Christ but he is dead. What can I do?’
‘My Lord! What path of Satan did you choose, my son? Come back to the herd and be no more the stray sheep. What demon possessed you? What spirit drank your holy blood and gave you filthy one in exchange? You sold your soul? To whom?’
‘I am mourning, my eyes are stained... but I can’t help him. I can’t help myself’
‘Pater noster, qui es in caelo sanctificetur nomen tuum: Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua…’
‘Stop, father... Stop! There is no use for this… better try that one: Yeah, though I walk through the Valley of the shadow of Death, I will feel no evil…’

‘To what god you pray, my bloomed lily? Search for me…’

‘Where are you leaving, brother Gabriel? The Devil possesses you…’
‘I am your brother no more… I am your fears. Please give my peace!’

She waited in the snow… sitting on a bench. A black bride looking at him… and talking to him.

‘He’s here.’
‘Was.’
‘Gabriel, wait! Where are you going, my son?’
‘Your demons are here, father…’

He kissed her and took her hand….  

‘Please give me silence!’