Pray

“Our Father, Who art in heaven-” Logan started with great conviction.

“Almighty God, our heavenly Father:-” Father Maathuis began with a great sadness in his heart.

“Hallowed be Thy Name;-”

"He has sinned against you,-”

“Thy kingdom come,-”

“Through his own fault,-”

“Thy will be done,-”

“In thought, and word, and deed,-”

“On earth as it is in heaven-”

“And in what he has left undone-”

“Give us this day our daily bread,-”

“For the sake of your Son our Lord Jesus Christ,-”

“And forgive us our trespasses,-”

“Forgive him all his offenses;-”

“As we forgive those who trespass against us;-”

“And grant that he may serve you-”

“And lead us not into temptation,-”

“In newness of life,-”

“But deliver us from evil-”

“To the glory of your Name-”

“Amen” finished Logan.

“Amen” Finished Father Maathuis.

Breathing. The soothing melody filled the silence of the church. The calming chime was the only tangible evidence of life. Not harsh or stark but somber and accepting. The music of two souls sharing their last moment together in the presence of light and dark. The stench of spilt blood, and the stinging of coming fate. There was neither whining sadness nor pitiful fear. Only the filthy truth burning forgiveness.

“Dear Father, you should not have asked for forgiveness on my behalf for I am not worthy or deserving of such a thing. It was only days ago that I had no such belief in our Father and Savior” Logan silently cried. He remained broken and beaten in the same position he was found in, yet was contempt with his choices. He was losing his life, but was regaining his perspective. He was at peace in this moment, finally able to breath without fear or pain.

“You may not have believed, but you chose to believe in the end and came here. No person can come through those doors and not expect to be given the chance for forgiveness” Father Maathuis sighed.

Logan listened, and remained on his knees, hunched over, clutching at his abdomen. He could feel that it was almost time as his body grew heavier and his mind even more clear. He fell forward, and Father caught him into what looked an embrace. Logan's hands feel away from his body as his body grew slack. Father could feel the warmth spread onto his white clergy robe, he could see the scarlet life flowing through the cotton and embedding itself into the robe as if it belonged there by design.

“Is it almost time for you to go young man?” Father asked. Logan tried to smile, but could only manage a grim through his tiredness. His breathing grew slower as he tilted his head with what strength he had left to look Father in the eyes. Father tried to support Logan’s neck when he saw the glistening red on his fingers. Logan noticed as well as the smell of iron faintly hit him from where Father was supporting his neck.

“I-I’m s-sorry Father. My blood doesn’t need to damn th-the pure beauty of light. F-forgive my weakness. Now, please leave. Th-they are almost here. L-leave so that I can let go knowing I saved a-at least one life”Logan said no longer looking at the Father. No, he was no longer looking at the Father for he was falling somewhere he could finally be free.

Father Maathuis held Logan for one more minute before kissing his forehead and saying a silent prayer towards Logan’s soul. Standing, he could see the blood trail leading from the door to where the body and he remained now. The blood that was now intertwined with his clothes and his skin. The blood of the stranger who spent his last breaths with him. Father walked out the back entrance of the church and stood in the forest behind it.

The bloodthirsty night gave way to helicopters barging in, and suits with skin and bones yet nothing in the soul. They surrounded the church, they defied the light, they burned down the faith and all the good inside. They withdraw and leave only flames with the desire to destroy and lick at any good left in the area. There is no more church. There is no more light. There is no more of that lost soul. There is only ash.

“For I had no knowledge of the who, nor why, or even what. I cared not for the blood latching on to my every move. And, I feared not for the well being of myself nor the church that was once there. There was only a man giving his last breaths for the Lord and myself. I did what I could, but I was nearly an unnecessary accessory” The Father would say upon questioning and in ceremonies and at the funeral in which he was the only attendant. There was no body, no identity, and no sadness. It was just Father Maathuis and his thoughts and memories.