Somewhere a censer swings. This dark place is full of smoke and unutterable chants. Incense fills my nose as my desperate eyes search for the light. God help those whose prayers are answered. A bright explosion of deep, cherry red blinds me a moment. My vision adjusts: the stained glass glows with the wounds, and the light falling on me now streams across the floor like streaks of blood. In these crimson bars I’m held, suffocating in the thickening cloud.
Is it only blood and fire now? Is there no hope?
I’m brought to my knees, and a new light falls on my face. A soft, sky blue, pours from the heart, mixed with the blood. A window to Heaven. It is the last thing I see before I die. I keep my eyes on that pale hope until I am no more.
Tale Told 