Jeremiah focused on the windows illuminated by moonlight, absorbed by crimson-tinged leaves of paradise as his man lay on top ofhim. Crimson, like the blood-scarlet skies that had loomed above New York just days ago, that he saw on the TV, on the phone.
Something appeared in the stained-glass leaves. Roving, menacing eyes. Red eyes, easily hidden amid the colors, making it easier to feast on its prey. The thing had now come to feast on this, the most cherished of Jeremiah’s memories. Of course, the fucker had taken everything else. The fields of gold. TheMan of God. The furtive kisses. All consumed.
The eyes grew, as did the shadow. The darkness overtook the stained glass, spread to Ebenezer’s glorious arches, to the pews, crawled up Doug’s soles and thighs and back and head and shoulders. Shadow filled Jeremiah’s mouth and clogged his nostrils.
He opened his eyes, woke with a choked gasp. His limbs, on fire.
Crimson streamed from his arms, soaking the hospital’s sheets. A bed of his own blood, blood that boiled.
The heat…
The heat…
Lord, have mercy on me… please…
The heat…
His arms and chest and neck swelled with blisters. Blood and more blood, bedsheets drenched. Crimson, evil… evil, glorious crimson that filled his insides, in places he never imagined. That made him ecstatic to give in.
His throat grew thick. He couldn’t breathe.
More searing pain… His eyes…
Jesus…
Jesus!!!!
… his eyes…
Matthew 6:9–13, yes… Matthew 6:9–13, protection. Yessssss…
protection. He needed protection. Remembered the infinite bounties of Psalms. He would not think of the words, would not place them on hislips, because they were lovely. Because they were full of grace. The thing would devour such lovely words…immediately… Yes, yes, he was sure.
He hoped Douglas knew that he loved him, though he’d never said it. His last days, in the arms of such a resplendent man. A brave man, who had the fortitude to live a life he chose. He imagined him somewhere lighting a candle. Douglas… yes, that was his name, Douglas… who probably had no idea where he was.
What if this thing was devouring Douglas’s soul as well? What if he wasn’t safe?
Jesus… the pain…
Something streamed down Jeremiah’s cheeks. Blood… tears… he didn’t know. Didn’t matter.
Help me, Jesus… please…
God’s words, exquisite things. The monster would take exquisite things for itself, would feast on exquisite things. All that Jeremiah had left to give… from his soul. Those words were for himself. To cherish, hold close… for his final time, too near.
He couldn’t remember his name…
He wanted to say his name one last time…
Please.
Help me.
The pain…
Oh, Doug… my Douglas… remember me… in our field of flowers…
Another mistake. Final thoughts… too sweet, too lovely… swiftly consumed…
