Gabriel Fletcher (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
overdrawing) wrote2015-05-11 03:28 am
overdrawing) wrote2015-05-11 03:28 am
[ota - cw: religiosity and conservatism]
He hadn't meant to fall asleep in the church last night. To be honest, Gabe doesn't even think he wants to stay much longer here. His Baptist upbringing aside, there's something about St. Peter's Cathedral that makes his bones go cold. It's too beautiful and too ornate, made cold by the high ceilings and stone walls, and the stained glass has stories that he knows aren't in the Bible. Some of the stained glass windows have something deeply strange and pagan about them.
But it's the easiest church to find and hopefully God will forgive him for going into the wrong church in an effort to pray. It's why he'd gone in the night before, only to fall asleep curled up in the pew.
Now his neck aches unforgivably, refusing to let him quite turn his head all the way right before stopping him with a twinge of pain.
These days, Gabe feels increasingly grubby. He'd showered and washed his clothes in the motel sink during his first two nights, but that was before he'd run out of money. Before he'd slept in the bus station and the Wal-Mart furniture section after that and now the pew of the wrong kind of church.
"God, please," he whispers, kneeling without aid of the padded bench to ease the discomfort. His hands folded against the back of the pew in front of him, Gabe prays. "Please. I don't know what to do. I don't know what I'm doing here in this unfaithful town. Why am I like this? I know it's wrong...that what I did is wrong. I can be strong enough to overcome it but you gotta help me."
But it's the easiest church to find and hopefully God will forgive him for going into the wrong church in an effort to pray. It's why he'd gone in the night before, only to fall asleep curled up in the pew.
Now his neck aches unforgivably, refusing to let him quite turn his head all the way right before stopping him with a twinge of pain.
These days, Gabe feels increasingly grubby. He'd showered and washed his clothes in the motel sink during his first two nights, but that was before he'd run out of money. Before he'd slept in the bus station and the Wal-Mart furniture section after that and now the pew of the wrong kind of church.
"God, please," he whispers, kneeling without aid of the padded bench to ease the discomfort. His hands folded against the back of the pew in front of him, Gabe prays. "Please. I don't know what to do. I don't know what I'm doing here in this unfaithful town. Why am I like this? I know it's wrong...that what I did is wrong. I can be strong enough to overcome it but you gotta help me."