almighty and everlasting;

Look with pity, O heavenly Father, upon the people who live with injustice, terror, and death as their constant companions. Have mercy upon us, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. Aidan Latimer // 24 // Birmingham, Alabama

[house-martin]

-Casper had been hard at work in the basement, taking the smallest amount of his decrepit remains and attempting to grind up the bone. With a pestle and mortar, he’d put everything his being had left into breaking down the calcium bonds, the carbon foundations which had once supported a healthy, strong lad. Now a useless, vacant framework, the specter saw it as his final hope of being free from the prison he had once called home.

Adding ancient herbs and floral buds used by wiccans his father had once homed for a while, he recited incantations that had been engraved in his memory since he’d learned of them in his undead state. He hadn’t quite thought up an option as to how his remains would be distributed, but that would come later once the hard part of grinding them up had been done. 

His process has ceased however, when he heard the familiar voice he expected to be busy at work in the shed for at least another hour or so. Biting his lip, he placed down the tools and headed toward the healthy staircase that lead up to the house. Standing on the top step in feigned awkwardness, he carefully pushed the door open and stepped upward hurriedly as if the entire framework was due to collapse should he not spring from it in that moment. Blocking the entranceway casually by leaning on the door frame, he wipes the back of his hand across his brow, nodding exaggeratedly.-

I apologize for sending you out there… just I’ve encountered no-one else without an allergy like myself. How goes the pest control?

-In that moment he realizes how his plan must unfurl for him to successfully leave the plantation once and for all, even if it means remaining by the boy’s side for all eternity. It seems like a catch, but after such a long period of time ensnaring people into the house just to remain alone once more, he decides it’s a small price to pay for freedom.-

Is there anything I can assist you with? My only issue is of course, I cannot go anywhere near the back garden at this point now the wasps have been disturbed but I can point you in the right direction?

[aidanlatimer]

[Casper seemed hassled, as though he hadn't been expecting Aidan back, as though Aidan had interrupted something important -- which, of course, Aidan had. The work needing to be done on the stairs was no doubt important, and Aidan felt the tiniest twinge of guilt at stopping Casper before he had finished, but his arm was hurting like hell and if he was to truly go out and buy groceries he needed to actually have use of the limb.]

Yeah. Do you have something for the sting? I think the stinger's still in my arm and it hurts like hell.

[He paused for a moment, still vaguely out of breath. Not vaguely. Just out of breath. How had he gotten so far out of shape? He made a quick resolution to himself to start jogging again, jog far away from this place that -- although nice -- was still too close to home to provide him warmth.]

If you have a phone book lying about, I can find the number for an exterminator to take care of the bees. It looks like the shed hasn't been touched in decades. Were you a boy when it was stopped being used?

[That feeling of unease, of malaise, he had been feeling earlier returned to him, stronger than before. But again he crushed it: it had no foundation, no relevance, and probably was subconsciously related to the guilt he ought to be feeling about ditching his whole life behind. As soon as he left this town, no, this state, no, this country... as soon as he escaped, maybe that feeling would go away. For now he'd have to hunker down and power through it, as his father might have said in one of the sermons he had long ago learned how to tune out.]

Either way -- [He added, if perhaps only for his own benefit] -- if you want to use it in the future we'll need to call an exterminator.

[Quietly, he chided himself for his choice of words. There was no "we". There was Casper and there was Aidan, there was Aidan who was already gearing up to leave, and any similitudes of peaceful domesticity he felt here were projections of his own desperation. He knew that, dammit. He knew better. He ought to have known better.

Quietly now, stupidly self-conscious and embarrassed:]

Get the stinger out for me and I'll find the number.

[house-martin]

Only a brief one — just for a moment or so. I would rather hope you could do me a favour; at the bottom of the garden there’s an old shed, a rather dilapidated thing that I hope to restore sooner or later, perhaps make it a guest house should the time present itself.  I’d love to go and take a quick investigation but I’m deathly allergic to bees and wasps and the shed gives a particular hum. Would you take a short while to take a look for me? I’d be ever so grateful.

-Knowing full well there’s a rather large nest of wasps in the back of the shed, hidden behind several pieces of old furniture, he presumes it should take enough time for Casper to grind up a few of his bone for the journey.-

-Not waiting too long for an answer should Aidan have a chance to refuse, he stands and turns to tuck his chair in, nodding toward his company.-

In the meantime, I’ll be attempting to fix up the steps to the basement, but I wouldn’t advise trying to come down to find me. Knock on the top door and I’ll come up and speak to you, since it’s unreliable structure beneath the basement.

-A small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, he bids Aidan a good afternoon, walking down the hallway before summoning himself into the basement to begin grinding up his bones.- 

[aidanlatimer]

[Oh, right. Aidan had seriously been hoping Casper would say no, but he could handle this. Bees and wasps weren't his favorite creatures in the world, but he wasn't allergic to them. So if that was what was needed of him, he'd suck it up and do it. Casper had done so much for him, after all. This was no biggie. He'd be in and out in ten minutes flat, and on his way to... wherever. Somewhere with fluorescent lights and refrigerator chill and all the cooking supplies he might desire.]

Of course. I'm not quite the architect you are, but I can go and make sure that there aren't any bees -- and if there are I'm sure there's an exterminator we can call. 

[He smiles and nods at the instruction about the basement stairs. He's been curious about what lays beyond the wooden door ever since arriving, but out of a mixture of respect and fear has laid that curiosity in its bed as best he can. Hopefully, perhaps at some point Casper would invite him down to see. But if he has to move on from this house without ever taking a peek, it shouldn't haunt him for too much longer.]

Good luck!

[But Casper was already gone, so Aidan rises. He gently puts his dishes in the sink, making a note to remind himself to wash them when he got back. Then he grabs his coat and steps out of the house. The sun shines behind several clouds, and he makes his way down a narrow stone path that leads to the backside of the house. There, as Casper described it, sits the shed.

It definitely has a hum to it, but Aidan swallows his fear and approaches it. The door is slightly askew on its hinges, and he carefully moves it aside. The interior of the shed is no less creepy than its outside. Several planks of the wooden floor splinter into the darkness below. The floor space is crowded by broken-down furniture, caved-in couches and a television with its screen shattered. Aidan swallows nervously.

He moves towards the back end of it, toward a pile of boxes that seems to have collapses in on itself, and where the faint hum seems to come from. He hopes that it might be a broken refrigerator, its last vestiges of life coming from a watered-down version of the majestic noise it once made. But in his gut he knows that can't be it. In his gut, Aidan knows what's behind the boxes. And when he pushes them aside, revealing the absurdly large wasp nest, a part of him isn't surprised. But only a part.

The other parts of him stumble backward, his foot catching on one of the broken pieces of wood, sending his body crashing down. The noise and hassle didn't seem to jive with the wasps, who flooded out of the nest and into the space. One of them managed to sink its stinger into him before, flailing almost comically, Aidan was able to get himself out of the shed and slam the door behind him. Of course, the structure didn't do much to keep the bees in, and some of the more agile ones found ways through the rotting wood and out into the sunlight.

Cursing under his breath Adain flung himself back toward the house, running as fast as his slightly out-of-use legs would let him. Inside the building at last he let himself catch his breath leaning against the front door. His arm hurt where the wasp had gotten him, aching up and down and around the spot of impact. He wondered whether Casper had something to do about it somewhere lying about; with his allergies, Aidan assumed he must. So he forced himself to stand up and make his way to the cellar door, which he knocked on sharply.]

There are... definitely bees... [he manages to get out.]

[house-martin]

-Shaking his head, Casper glances at the remains of his company’s breakfast, chewing the thought over for a few minutes of what it used to be like to eat food. What it felt like to be hungry — the only hunger he felt now, in this house, was a ravenous appetite to leave the prison he’d been trapped in. 

His bones had been found once, by a priest no less. Word had gotten back into town that there’d been a malevolent spirit killing anyone whom entered the infamous Martin plantation. The jolly old man had found them in the bottom of the well, placed them in a fancy box and said a few words over them; Casper hadn’t given him the chance to set them on fire before he ripped him open from the inside out.-

I’ll have to politely decline. Bread substances tend not to agree with me and I’d rather not take the risk.

-Casper had already come to the realisation that sooner or later the young boy beside him would notice his odd habits; no eating, feigning drinking.. breathless speech. But he had remembered the box and kept it hidden in the house in the hope one day he could cast it out and walk amongst the living. That was where, he had decided, that Aidan would come in.-

I think whilst you go for groceries, I think I may have an attempt at cleaning up the garden and removing some of the tree debris that the storm has blown onto it. That way you have a rather more presentable view from your bedroom window, no?

-He could not leave the plantation on his own — he was bound to the house he had died in. Being so spoilt and bitter and vengeful had trapped him here and up until now, he had successfully killed each and every living thing that had walked through the door. But now, now he had a chance to leave this place for good and wreak havoc on the rest of the world.-

[aidanlatimer]

[Aidan nods; his aunt was gluten-free, and he totally understood why Casper wouldn't go for the bagel. It was a little odd that the man wasn't eating anything, but Aidan had seen weirder. And Casper was a weird man. What else did it mean for one more oddity to sit on top the list?

He lifts the bagel up to his lips and takes another bite. Tasty, of course, but not as good as what he could be having. What a lovely concept. Without the strife of family, without the worry of keeping his identity under wraps, without the constant stress of being in a house he knew he shouldn't be in, the only concern he had in his life was the taste of his food.]

Oh, that sounds great.

[There is a certain brambled beauty to the garden, but Aidan can understand why Casper would want to clean it up. He doesn't really harbor any belief that it is being done for his benefit, but he appreciates the sentiment nonetheless.]

Thank you. Do you have any jobs for me to do before I head out?

[He wants to give Casper all the help he can, of course, but part of him is hoping he won't have any assignments this morning. He's itching to get moving, stretch his legs, breath in some fresh air. 

Aidan pulls out his phone and pulls up a map to the nearest grocery store. The internet is slow, much slower than he'd have appreciated weeks ago, but instead of frustration the buffering draws peace from him.] 

[house-martin]

I’d say it’s the aesthetics of the house; it’s given many a guest of mine nightmares unfortunately. Probably the old décor.

-Watching his company for a moment as he moves around the kitchen making himself breakfast, he shrugs softly, sitting when prompted to with a small smile.-

-Hands knitting together on the table, he sits with perfect posture, almost like a figure in a doll-house unmoving and stoic. It hardly looks like he’s breathing.-

If you’d like; though I must say, simply out of good-faith that I trust you’ll tell me when you plan on leaving the house indefinitely. I’m a fool for final goodbyes and too many times have my guests left me in the depths of the night. 

-Clearing his throat, he sends a sheepish smile of sorts toward Aidan, attempting to get his point across without seeming too odd.-

Just so I can thank you properly, of course.

[aidanlatimer]

That must be it. [So Aidan isn't the first guest Casper's hosted, then. It made sense: a house this big and remote must attract visitors, especially those under a similar duress that Aidan had been. But a small twinge of jealousy burst in him. 

When Casper joins him at the table Aidan looks up from his meal, taking in his host. The almost too-formal attire, the almost too-perfect posture. He is an oddity alright, but Aidan likes that about him. Likes the fact that it's likely not many others might enjoy the blond's company. He feels oddly... possessive of him.]

Of course! [The notion is absurd to Aidan. He could never just slip off into the night, not after all Casper had done for him. He took in Casper's sheepish smile and grinned widely back at him.]

And I'll have to thank you too! [God, he was falling in love, wasn't he?]

Do you want some of this bagel? I'm not going to be able to finish it. 

[house-martin]

-The novelty of being unable to sleep, despite being unnerving to most, meant that Casper could do as he pleased at any and all times of the day. Watching Aidan carefully, he’d set the male tasks to prove his strength, to observe his resilience — to test his will. So far, everything he’d done in service of Casper had been above-par and for once, the host felt somewhat impressed by the rejuvenation of young spirit.

It had been so long since he’d come across anyone above the usual standard of today’s society. Spoilt, arrogant pustules had come invading his house, claiming king of the castle and oh, oh how he’d burnt them all down. He hated nothing more that self-centred, sponging children and despite making himself a hypocrite in thinking so due to his upbringing, watching the centuries pass made him despise everything he’d once been. Aidan was a refreshing change to reality’s newest generation and he felt it somewhat an obligation of his to keep him that way.

Deciding to himself he’d been watching the individual for long enough, he’d make his way downstairs, smoothing his hair as he descended under the pretence he’d slept until this point. Nodding toward the male, he smiled some, heading toward the sink to run a glass of water he’d pretend to drink.-

Good morning to you too, Aidan. I take it you slept well?

[aidanlatimer]

I slept alright. Had another nightmare and kept waking up, but it's nothing a cup of coffee can't fix.

[Aidan had, in fact, been having nightmares ever since arriving. Garish, violent, terrible things, things that his Father would have attributed to the devil or unruly spirits, things which Aidan knew simply came from how unrooted he suddenly was. 

He moves out of the way of Casper, shifting the cutting board where he was slicing a bagel down the counter so his host has room at the sink.]

I was thinking maybe of going grocery shopping soon. There must be a town somewhere nearby and I wouldn't mind a walk. I've been missing eggs in the morning -- and maybe I could cook us dinner?

I'm not the best cook, but. It might be nice.

[The bagel buttered, Aidan makes his way to the kitchen table and sits down, knocking loose one of the other chairs gently in an attempted 'come sit with me' gesture.]

[aidanlatimer]

[About a week passes. Aidain had only intended to stay a day or two at most, but there was something about the physical labor of scrubbing vandalism off the wall, something concrete about existing in a contract with another human being. And besides -- the room was warm, it was comfy, and he had all the privacy he needed most of the time. He hadn't left the house since arriving, and though he was starting to want to go into town, maybe do some shopping, at least for the novelty of seeing other people, but he wasn't sure that Casper even owned a car.

And Casper. There was something so fascinating about him, some strange contradiction of cold and warmth that drew him to him. He wanted to learn everything he could about him, wanted to be near him at all times, wanted -- well, it was unsettling. He'd barely known the man at all and yet he was already heading toward oblique fascination with him. It had to be watched.

Aidan rises early in the morning, knowing Casper would already be awake, and after showering drifts down into the kitchen. No Casper in sight yet. They've never taken their meals together, which is disappointing but understandable. So Aidan sets out to make himself a small breakfast.

After some time he hears a noise and looks up:]

Good morning, Casper! 

[house-martin]

-Nodding some, it only confirmed to Casper that his guest would not be missed by as many as he would think. No job and a traveller, there would be few who would see him regularly and as a result, his lack of contact with the rest of the world would mean little.- 

Ah, I see. Not a bad life, you would agree? I enjoy a much simpler existence - relying on others has never been a strong suit of mine.. and a religious figure in the family? You must feel blessed, with no pun intended.

-Smiling with a slight inclination of the head, he turns the doorknob and the door swings open with a soft creak. Turning the gas lamp on by the door, the room illuminates and appears as the only room in the house Aidan has been shown without any signs of destruction.-

This is where you’ll be staying; the bathroom is only down the hall, while my room is across at the other side of the house. If you require anything, don’t hesitate to get it. Good night.

[aidanlatimer]

Well, I relied too much on my Father. That's why I left and why I'm here. There were definitely perks to being his son, but I'd have to wager that his stifling attitude and our arguments and the presence of that book on my life far outweighed anything I gained. That simpler life you live: that, more than anything, is what I want.

[The door swings inward, displaying only an inky recess of darkness until Casper lights yet another gas lamp. The room gains relief, shadows amongst the light, painting for Aidan a relatively normal room -- no blood, no indecencies splattered on the walls -- only a bed and a dresser and a tiny and rickety desk. It comes as a relief to him, that he would not need to stare at peeling wallpaper and wet stains as he tried to sleep every night.]

Thank you again, Casper.

Good night.

[He gently closes the door, leaving himself, at long last, alone and warm and dry. Tomorrow awaited eagerly, the first full day of his new life, and he was anxious to start it on the right foot.]

[house-martin]

-Shaking his head once more with a small smile, he was always pleased with the boy’s apparent appreciate yet felt no need to act humble before him.-

I’m grateful to hear that. Ah, work? I haven’t had to work for years. My family came into wealth a long time ago and opposed to spending it on moving, we simply farmed at the plantation and added to the wealth we rarely dipped into; my inheritance only increases with time. 

-Turning onto a wide balcony, he waits for Aidan to ascend the rest of the staircase before heading toward the room he’ll be occupying.-

And what do you do, if I might be so bold as to ask?

[aidanlatimer]

Oh-- [The question took Aidan by surprise, if only by merit of the fact that he no longer considered himself to truly do anything. He existed, and there were certainly acts that furthered his existence instead of hindering it, but it had been a long time since he'd had to work for money, to have food on the table. It was a blessing and a curse, although the mention that thought anywhere aside from the insulated walls of his skull was to encroach upon more dangerous territory than he was willing.]

My father is a pastor. I do some logistical stuff for the church, print pamphlets, flyers. Help make up the perfect triangular family. I did some painting in high school, but I haven't touched a brush in ages. So I suppose you could say we're in a similar boat.

Aside from the whole increasing inheritance thing.

[They stop before a wooden door about halfway down the hall. Aidan takes his eyes off his host for only a moment to glance at it.]

Would it be an unfair guess to assume this is the guest bedroom?

[house-martin]

That would be most generous of you. Of course, you’d be my guest so I wouldn’t request anything of you initially.

-Smiling some, he shakes his head and though the formality pleases his, he reminds himself that a more casual relationship offers trust.-

Please, call me Casper. Mr. Martin was my father.

-Climbing the stairs, again igniting gas lamps as he goes along, his eyes glance at the red blood and nail scrapes along the wall-paper. Turning to Aidan as they ascend.-

Again I apologise for the state in which my home is in; I feel downright ashamed at it’s appearance. 

Oh, of course not. Years and years back, beyond the 18th century as a matter of fact; through the years the place has been redecorated, but never refurbished. The foundations though old are still impressively strong and I suppose my ancestors felt no need to remodel. 

[aidanlatimer]

If you say so. But it wouldn't put me out at all. And, if you say so -- Casper. Thank you. Thank you, Casper.

[He follows Casper up the steps, trying to ignore the blood stains. Aidan wonders blithely what sort of vandals left bloodstains, but pushes those thoughts away.] 

Oh, of course. [That did make sense.] And what do you do, Casper?

[house-martin]

-Smiling somewhat brighter - from what you could call ‘brighter’ as the poltergeist always carried himself in a close to melancholy demeanour - a the male’s response, he gestures to a dark hallway just across the room.- You’ll have to excuse me whilst I turn on some lights as we go along. I’ve recently come home from an extended trip and I’ve noted my home has been vandalised - I apologise for the state it appears in, but as far as the place is concerned, it’s a place of shelter and warmth.

-As he wanders further into the building, he ignites yet more gas lamps, always checking behind him to ensure that Aidan hasn’t wandered off anywhere he shouldn’t.- Martin- Casper, that is. This here is the kitchen, stocked as far as I’m aware unless you’re dissatisfied, in which case I’ll send my maid to pick up a few things in the morn. -Pointing now to an old wooden door at the back of the tall, ornate kitchen.- Behind that door lies the cellar; though you’re welcome to investigate, I wouldn’t recommend it. The stairs are old and worn with only old furnishings below the house.

-Knowing full well the stairs are stone and in good condition, he turns, pointing out of the kitchen back down the hall in which they’ve just come from.- If you’ll follow me this way, I’ll take you to your room and show you around the upper floor of the house.

[aidanlatimer]

I could definitely help cleaning up some of the vandalism.

[Something uncomfortable and weird pinged in the back of Aidan's head; something about that didn't line up. But why should he have any reason not to trust the blond man -- Mr. Martin -- ?]

Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Martin.

[He didn't. What he had here was warmth and hospitality and a host who seemed kind if not overbearing. So he quieted the little ping. He could deal with that later. He glanced around the kitchen, noting the antiquated appliances that looked in remarkably good condition, wondering whether Martin's definition of well-stocked lined up with his. He'd have to poke around a little at a later time. He took one, uninterested look at the wooden door that lead to the cellar, following Martin wordlessly back out of the kitchen and up the stairs.]

You said so long as your tree stood this house belonged to your family... how long does the Martin family history stretch back? This house seems so antique -- vintage. If you don't mind me prying.

[house-martin]

-Raising a brow gently, he slowly wanders closer toward the other, hands slowly lowering as he leans more toward a wall and tampering with a lamp, ignites a gas lamp fixed to the peeling paper to illuminate the room.- Ah, I see.

-Somewhat the exact words he wanted to hear, Casper attempts his most reassuring smile and gestures around the house.- I could give you a short tour if you’d like. There’s been a spare room here for years, only gathering dust as I rarely sleep. I suppose I could use a hand around this old place; it’s been too long since I had a helping hand.

[aidanlatimer]

[Aidan watches the man intently intently as he fiddled with something on the wall. A trap door switch, maybe, or the on button for a gas chamber-- no, just an old-style lamp, jumping to life and filling the room with welcome light. Tentatively he switched the flashlight on his phone off and pocketed the device.]

A tour would be lovely.

[Taking a careful step toward his would-be host:]

I'd love to stay on-- as long as you'll have me, as long as I can be of service.

[Why did he say that? Where did the desire to settle down even for a night come from? Wasn't the whole point of this all to flee, to put as much distance as he could between the life he'd lived and the life he now would pursue? Yet here he was, perhaps agreeing to indefinitely stay here, a plantation not even fifteen driven minutes away from home. But there was something enchanting, some sort of Victorian charm to the place that -- now that he was here -- glued him to it like flypaper. So long as he didn't have to sign any contract, so long as he didn't have to stay for any certain amount of time (could leave, then, whenever he wanted), he supposed he could settle down for at least a little while. Until he could figure out his monetary situation, turn what had been an act of passion into something which the future could feed upon.]

I'm Aidan.

[house-martin]

-Nodding his head calmly, the spirit slowly makes his way toward the living, hands raised in good gesture despite needing physical contact to do real damage.. or any weapon of a kind.- This house belongs to me, yes. Passed down through our family, it belonged to my father, and his father, and his father before him.. and so forth for as long as our tree stands strong.

Understandable, the weather is unrelenting and at such an hour, one shouldn’t be wandering about these shelterless lands alone.. unless you have company awaiting your return?

[aidanlatimer]

[Aidan keeps space between himself and the man, turning the light to ensure he keeps the stranger in full view at all times. He might have been desperate for some sort of hospitality, for some sort of kindness, but that didn't mean he needed to throw himself into harm's way unnecessarily.] 

I-- no.

[He conceded this with last-second honesty.]

I'm a traveller now. No one expects me except my next destination. It would be appreciated if I could stay here until the storm quieted, but... it would be no damage either to continue now on. I could always do some work, make myself useful to you, if I were to stay.

[house-martin]

-Deciding upon a much more.. extended plot with his next victim, Casper meanders down the old staircase, glancing over at the fresh meat come poster-boy glinting in the light of an electrical device from the rain upon his food. Stepping onto the floor, he offers a less-than-sincere smile to the other, raising an eyebrow-

You look weak from your travels, friend. Take a moment to settle, for there are no dangers for you at such a time.

[aidanlatimer]

[Movement on the grand stairs of the foyer drew Aidan's attention, and he tentatively -- all the horror-movie know-how he had acquired over the year stripped away by the fear clutching him so tightly -- moved the light away from the blood and toward the figure. His brow furrowed; the man certainly seemed corporeal enough. So where had that blood come from?]

Do you own this house?

[Then, less assertively:]

The cold. And the rain. I had to... stop for a moment.

[aidanlatimer]

Prayer for Enemies || Drabble;

The ceiling of the church stretched upwards, away, the pines of slanted supports nearly as far away as Heaven in the sky. Panels of sunlight broke through stained glass, and bits of dust danced in their ensnaring gaze. Low notes from the organ plodded through the air, soft enough to be tangled into the organic tapestry of sound in the room but not quite quiet enough to blend away completely. They rang through Aidan’s head, bringing him out of the prayer. He looked up, looked up at his father up at the altar in his green robes. The greying beard. His muscular composition. A smile broke across Aidan’s lips. How was he so lucky, to have been brought that much closer to salvation simply by being born? How was he so lucky, to be where he was, when he was? God was good. God was very good, and Aidan sent a small smile heavenwards before turning back to the prayer.

“…whose Son commanded us to love our enemies…”

Movement to the side, the row of pews several feet away, filled with men in suits and t-shirts and women in pants and dresses. Aidan brushed blond hair out of his eyes and looked over. Peter shifted, and Aidan met his eyes for the briefest of seconds. A flash of a dark bedroom, skin highlighted by strains of moonlight, driving adrenaline and lingering touches. Then Peter looked away, refused to smile even as Aidan broke his lips in friendliness. He swallowed, looked down at his spidery hands. Tapped a beat on the Book of Prayers he had balanced against the back of the pew in front of him. His father shot him a disapproving glare, and Aidan drew his fingers up to his eyes. He massaged his eyelids, and tried to bring himself back to God.

“…Lead them, and us, from prejudice to truth…”

The other day, his father sat him down. Aidan had known the conversation was coming, but had ignored the concept for as long as he could, filling his days and nights with Peter and with running, and with video games. But George Latimer had come to call, and spoke plainly: “Aidan, you’re twenty-four years old, son.” He had nodded, perched on the edge of his bed. Father leaned in the door frame, seeming almost naked without the robes. “It’s time for you to make a decision.” Aidan looked up, brushed hair out of his eyes, absentmindedly rolled his sleeves up. “You know, and I know, that I want you to follow in my footsteps. I think you’d make a remarkable rector, bring pride to us all.”  Aidan nodded, his lips glued together by the insurmountable pressure of confrontation. “But ultimately it’s your call. But you’re twenty-four,” father repeated. “If you don’t want to stay, you have to move on. Get your own place.” Aidan didn’t respond. “Think about it, kiddo. We’ll talk again after Mass on Sunday, yeah? Just, give it some thought.” The he left, leaving a George Latimer sized hole in the fabric of Aidan’s bedroom.

“…deliver them and us from hatred, cruelty, and revenge…” 

Pastorship was not the life Aidan wanted. He wanted to travel, to run, to flow like water in a river. Then why hadn’t he, a nudging little voice that sounded suspiciously like Peter’s said in the back of his head. Why hadn’t he learned to ride a horse like he promised himself he’d do after he graduated high school? Why hadn’t he taken that trip to Europe his father told him he could go on? There were a million excuses. Peter… money… it was never the right time, never the right moment. And could he really let his father down? Could he really leave Birmingham and the church behind, to live like a vagabond from one shared bed to the next? That wasn’t fair, though. He didn’t want to go about having sex with all the boys he could. He wanted to live all the lives he could in the fragile space between his life and his death. That was all. Binding himself down to one single life was more terrifying than eternal damnation in Hell.

“…and in your good time enable us to stand…”

Aidan studied his father intently, knowing that with each passing word, with each passing prayer, he was getting closer to having to make the decision: free himself and break his father, or break himself and free his father. He flipped open the Prayer Book, as though the answer to his problem might be found on page 46. But blank latin words floated up at him like cadavers in a river, swirling blots of flesh and blood dried up and broken. Floated up like death sentences, like eulogies, like a mother’s last goodbye. The organ music swelled up, towards heaven, and Aidan tugged down his sleeves to cover his arms protectively. 

“…reconciled before you…” 

The prayer was almost over. The service was almost over. Aidan looked back at the people in the pews, eyes skating over Peter, over his parents, over the woman who cried at every service, at the young couple expecting a child, at the man who baked cookies for every church function. So many futures, so many possibilities. And then it became clear, almost as if through a message from God. A small smile spread across Aidan’s face.

“…through Jesus Christ our Lord.”

The service over, Aidan rose and joined the thronging mass of people leaving the church. He slipped in to them, became them, became a particle of water moving through a stream, a body of motion in a chaotic world. This was it. It was simple. He would just leave. Never know if he disappointed his father. Never know what he would decide if he stayed to talk.

“…Amen.”

Aidan fled through the doors into Alabama winter. He turned up his coat against the cold, and set out briskly, into the wind, into the brewing storm.

[gifthescreen]

» [28/50] photos of Dane DeHaan

[aidanlatimer]

[Aidan stops walking, lifts the light from his cell phone to highlight a splatter of blood on the walls. He reaches his free hand over to touch it, but pulls back right before his fingers can press against the wall.]

Spirits of this house, if you can hear me...

Reveal yourself.

[got7virgoline]