The girl who cried among the pews,
Looked lost and so alone.
What sin so great to shame the stars,
Could call her to atone.
The priest in black with holy eye,
Beseeched her, take her bow.
But stood before this diety false,
She never would kow tow.
“But child”, he spake among the dark,
“What chance to be redeemed,
If not the knee you take to bend,
And ‘fore the Lord be seen?”
The tears from eyes not innocent,
Then dried upon her cheek.
And with a voice not of the earth,
She then began to speak.
“False priest”, she calmly said to him,
“Do not mistake this form.
I am so come to free you from
Your piety so forlorn.”
As holy candles lost their flame,
A darkness fell about.
But from the pews a glow was seen,
And priest gave forth a shout.
“Begone foul spawn, I know thy name,
O damn-ed Lord of flies,
Lest I call down the one true God,
To smite you from the skies.”
A rumbled laugh rolled through the church,
To shake the very soul.
This demon foul would not be swayed,
The priest would be his goal.
“Your vows are weak, your faith has gone,
Your prayers no more are heard.
Your followers have fled the field,
You have no flock to herd.”
The priest knew then that all was lost,
He’d failed this final test.
No longer now live in the light,
Be at the darks behest.
Where once a church stood proud and true,
There are now only stones.
Where once a priest held strong to faith,
There is now only bones.
Experimental Fiction 