The trees looked like bars to an infinite cage that stretched beyond the horizon, their ice-laced branches trembling in the breeze as the frigid air sank its fangs deep into my skin. I pulled my jacket closer as I forced my stiff legs to keep moving through the thick drifts of snow, the taut skin of my face and fingers cracking. The west was obscured into a blur of browns and grays; the invasive wind stung my eyes and salty tears blurred my vision. For a moment I missed the warm walls of my room and the life-giving heat of the fireplace. I looked back through the heavy curtain of snow to my home- the house nothing more than a waning shadow with pale amber specs lighting the windows.
My legs frantically pushed forward harder, my hot breath breaking from my mouth in puffs of smoke as I struggled against the dense weight of snow. Ice and branches clawed into my legs like shrapnel, my shins aching from each fall and my hands stinging bright scarlet from the biting ice. I cradled my stiff fingers to my neck; my lifeless hands melting against the faint glow of warmth my neck offered. The outline of the house faded into grey and the lights winked out one-by-one, its tether to my mind slowly loosening with each step as I moved further and further west. The sky timidly darkened with each passing second, and as time slipped through my hands, I felt static; that no matter how much distance was put between me and that house, no matter how hard I fought, it wouldn't matter. The peculiarity of my future was like placing a scorpion in the hand of a child and asking it not to sting. A sad smile tugged at the corner of my lips. What a foolish notion.
Guilt wrapped her thin arms around my neck, begging me in her silky voice to go back, her breath hot against my ear. My chest tightened painfully at the idea, but the tender hands of Hope reassured me to go on, her soft lips reminding me what happiness used to look like, and her laugh of what it sounded like. I tightened my chattering jaw as death-numbing cold seized my legs and arms as I fought to continue walking; my eyes squinting against the midnight sky as I bumped into bushes and trees- their needle-like branches raking through my hair and across my scalp. My pace slowly lessened until I leaned against a wide tree, willing for it to block me from the wind's harsh grip. Hot tears squeezed through my squinted eyes as I looked out into the limitless forest, my muscles too stiff to move. Sleep tugged at my eyelids and my mind, my skin digging into the rough bark of the tree as my bones seemed to cave under the heavy weight of my flesh. For awhile, I fought against my drooping eyelids, but at some point they remained shut, and my mind dreamt of a blazing fire and a steaming drink to wrap my dead fingers around. I could almost smell it; the comforting tones of hot chocolate fanning my face. I could smell the sharp scent of cinnamon and nutmeg, the memory so vivid and real it sent of pang of agony through my chest. My hand painfully seized my stomach as I rolled forward and forced my eyes to open. Devastation pulled a broken sigh from my bloodless lips as my heart stilled within my chest- my mind murmuring vague notions of hypothermia that sent my gaze outwards.
The shadows had deepened under the trees and bloomed into an obscuring fog of night- cloaking the treeline into a deep band of black. My eyes followed the trail of my footprints to my left which faded into the darkness of the treeline; relief flooding my frozen veins at the vacant, pitch black. My head lazily lolled to the side and prepared to drift back to sleep when the smell of cinnamon and nutmeg re-blossomed in my nose, my eyes catching the faint golden glow of a nearby light peeking behind some trees. My throat cracked in joy as my mouth painfully configured itself into a smile, my legs wobbling as I slowly picked myself up. Each step felt as though I was falling and catching myself- my arms reaching for each tree and bracing my weight upon each one as I paused to catch my breath, the feeling in my hands nothing but phantasms of sensation.
Each inhale of cinnamon pushed me onward until the shadows melted away and the snow glinted with the gentle reflection of holy light, the ground exploding in a mirage of colors and shapes. I imagined I could feel the heat of the candles as I walked into the bright band; and I almost could feel it. I pretended it was the sun warming my flaming skin and wrapping around me like a blanket. My daydream melted away as the heavy sounds of an organ pulsed through the stained-glass windows and shook my brittle bones. My legs followed the archaic melody to the front of the building, my form consumed by its lead shadow as I gazed upon its trigonal spires and white wooden sides. I paused at the polished wood entrance, a part of me wondering if when I entered, if I would suddenly melt into a puddle or burst into flames. Isn't that the story of how things like this work out? My teeth chattered painfully as I could faintly feel the warmth rolling from inside in waves. If I did turn to ash, would that be a bad thing? If I had the energy, I would've chuckled darkly. That's one way to solve all my problems, I suppose.
"Going inside?" A weathered voice asked. I hesitated for a moment before bending my wax fingers to grab the handle and hold the heavy door open for her, half expecting my skin to hiss against it.
"Y-yes." My voice sounded like shattered glass, my teeth tightly clenched upon the syllable.
"Thank you dear, are you here with family? I hear the choir is going to perform tonight, my granddaughter sings in the choir. I've been so curious to what songs they've been working on- she wouldn't let me hear her practice…" The old woman faintly continued as she walked inside. I looked at the threshold for a moment before slowly edging one foot past it, than briefly stood in it, before I took a step inside. My heart stilled in my chest as I took step after step, waiting for hell-fire to consume me, or lightning to flash down upon me from nowhere, or-
"Dear, would you grab me a cup of hot chocolate over there? My hands are too shake-y to do it." I broke from my thoughts as the old woman looked at me kindly, her round face decked in gentle wrinkles which spoke to a long life of laughter. I nodded silently and turned to a small table to my right and poured us both a small cup of hot chocolate,the warmth both relaxing and painful as it felt magnified against my ice skin. I followed the old woman through another set of doors into a vaulted room adorned with thick wooden beams and enclosed lights. Candles flickered in every corner, and wooden pews centered around a podium and a large cross at the front of the room. The stained glass windows were adorned with figures of angels and saints, and by the podium a large organ with high silver pipes echoed a faint tune as an older man pressed on the petals and keys. I followed the woman up closer towards the far left end of the front row; still amazed with every step that I was still breathing.
I basked in the gentle warmth of the room, my nose running from the drastic change in temperature.
"Do you have a handkerchief, M'am?" My voice was still strained, but less broken than before.
"Handkerchief? Darling, you sound as old as I am! Here, have a tissue." I set the cups down on the seat next to her and took the tissue from her, my fingers struggling to bend and apprehend it. I cherished the soft tissue to my dry skin- each breath raking flames down my throat and melting my frozen insides. A tired sigh slipped from my chapped lips as I sat down next to her and palmed my cup of hot chocolate, my eyes roaming to the gold-leaf adorning the ceiling and the intricate velvet carpet on the floor. It was strange to think that this would be my first and last time inside a church, but also soothing. If it truly was to be my last time in a church, maybe that would be a good thing- some say you only need to do the most important things once. Despite the immense guilt I felt sitting in this seat, it was also comforting to be in this place. Here, the house of my family's immortal enemy; in a house built on decayed foundations of purity and love. Though I know the church had a history as unholy as my own; I found peace in that small moment, surrounded by families and nothing but merriment.
As the seconds ticked by, more and more people settled into the pews adorned in their coats and bonnets. Families sat near one another and spoke of their week or the upcoming holiday; their faces adorned with smiles and the room filled with laughter and conversation- with hope. After a little while, a group of young people bedecked in white robes silently walked through the pews and up into the choir stand.
"There she is- the one with the red hair, on the far left, second row." I followed her line of sight, her face decorated with freckles and dimples. She looked to be about my age, maybe even older, with a serious expression on her face as she scanned the pew for her grandmother. I averted my eyes and found myself fascinated with the antique carpet, the design full of hidden dimensions and depth. For a moment, I could have sworn I felt her gaze flick over me, but I busied myself further by taking off my coat and gently placing it under the pew. In an instant, the organ belted out the unraff of an old chord, the choir collectively taking in a deep breath before harmonizing into a beautiful triad of sound.
Slow notes echoed throughout the room, every movement ceasing and every breath held as their voices arched and bowed like calm ocean waves. Reality seemed to fade away, leaving me on a vacant ship in the middle of the vast sea; billions of stars pulsing and fading amid the backdrop of inky space. The sky seemed to reach for me like an old friend, and for a brief moment I was free. I blinked and was back in the church, the soft light warming my skin, and the scent of cinnamon and nutmeg stilling my shaking veins. My chest throbbed painfully and tears gathered in the back of my throat as I sat there, a ticking bomb. Sin wasn't a matter of if, but when. More so, the date was already set for my damnation. December 24th, two days from now. I quickly wiped my tears away and took a deep breath, my worn eyes lazily finding their way to the wooden cross in the back of the room- its tall figure reaching high and wide making everything seem small in comparison. I wrapped my arms around myself as I looked at it, wondering if somehow it was both a symbol of holy and unholiness; its history marked by both miracles and tragedies. I had never prayed before, but in this moment, I closed my eyes, and begged forgiveness for my future- I begged for my own death, and yearned to give it in the place of others. I opened my eyes and scanned the room- to the countless families and couples. I begged for their safety and longevity. I begged for their pure lives to outweigh my wretched one- the first rebellion webbed into my flesh, into my soul, if I could call it that.
My entire life, I had heard of how horrible the people of this earth were- how wretched and lowly they were. These creatures of free will who destroy their planet; who kill and rape. Who would kill me; if they knew what I was- if they even believed it. My eyes focused back on the cross- to the weak resolution of my spirit to submit and fall. I realized that tonight would be the only night I would stand un-marked in my entire life, and that I should cherish it. The things I've done could be forgiven now, and for just one more night, my soul could be close to redemption. Sitting here, I could almost feel the liquid-fire pooling beneath the soles of my feet. I could almost feel claws raking down my flesh and cloven hooves beating me into the ground. It was never a matter of choice- not when I was created to sin. My soul some flimsy copy of humanity, my body patch-work of someone else's ideas mended together by someone with only one goal in mind: chaos.
I looked back to the old woman's granddaughter, to her delicate skin and satin hair. I imagined she lived a life that was the exact mirror image of my own. She was divinely human, undividedly holy- her composure nothing short of angelic. No matter what horrible things she ever did in her life, it wouldn't scratch the surface of my own existence, and I realized in that moment that I had a choice. It was one I've had my entire life, though it didn't seem that way until now.
If the God's beloved creations could choose to be evil- why couldn't I, an abomination of the Devil, choose to be righteous? I would be the unholy martyr my mother always claimed I should aspire to up-throw, and...
The granddaughter flicked her gaze onto me, a shy smile gracing her rose-petal lips as her voice rose above the chorus for a small solo- the tones of her voice thrumming in a bell-like cadence that bloomed into the room before fading back into the melody.
And people like her would never have to face Hell like I have.