Jul. 16th, 2005 11:32 pm
proofofstrength: (Default)
[personal profile] proofofstrength
The cathedral bells echo across the forest, calling all the villagers to worship. Inside, the congregation adds to the clamor with the hushed buzz of gossip. It's not an unusual scene, until the Belmont Girl appears. The buzz grows stingers, slashing at her as she silently walks into the sanctuary, even as the other villagers ease backwards, leaving a bubble of space around her.

Face determinedly neutral, she marches through the gauntlet, taking her accustomed place to observe the Mass.

The priest appears, and order gradually settles over the crowd. From the procession to the kyries to the offering to the sermon, there is no sound but that of the Litany.

Closing her eyes, Sonia breathes and enjoys the presence of God's people, trying to forget the circle of nobody around her. The one pleasure she has left in this world- to hear God's word, to feel at one with His creation- not even Dracula could take from her.

The bread and the cup are brought. The Belmont Girl stands at the back of the line to partake Communion; nobody wants to drink after a witch.

"The body of Christ, given for you."

She places the slip of unleavened bread on her tongue, blinking out of her reverence- have they changed it? It feels... different.

"The blood of Christ, shed for you."

The cup is brought to her lips, and the lukewarm liquid flows. Not lukewarm...



Wine never tasted like this.

She looks down, then up again in horror at her reflection.

A collective cry shreds the silence as she drops to the floor, retching and coughing, face contorted in horror.

The liquid on the stone floor is much thicker than wine.

Oblivious to the renewed buzzing, Sonia breathes, staring down.

Her face slowly lifts, and she raises a shaking hand toward the priest.

"Father..." She coughs again, forcing herself to straighten up. He stares at her, at the red stain, abhorrence plain on his face. His hand flashes the sign of the cross.

"Father," she repeats desperately, "Let me have it again! Let me be cleansed!"

Shaking, the man holds the cup at arms' length, its bounty perilously close to sloshing over the edge.

With a breath, she tilts it into her mouth again, quickly swallowing and crossing herself, forcing her tongue not to register any taste.

Conscious of the myriad eyes on her, she returns to her place and kneels, bowing her head. Drops of water join the minute drops of blood on her dress.

Holy Father... I don't understand... What just happened?
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Sonia Belmont

February 2008

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