The Black Chapel

XI

There is a certain corner near the cemetery that I must visit.  I force myself to come to this gate, simply as a reminder.  A reminder that salvation burns as much as the hatred in my soul.
        Here, as I pause on a desolate and lonely corner in the heart of the Dark Alleys, I can feel the closest thing to emotion that perhaps I ever will again.  I pick up a small handful of dust and debris that always lies here and stare at it fixedly – it has become something of a ritual.  A slight drop of pity, and even sadness, wells slowly within me as I stand here, watching the stars fade one by one with the coming of the dawn.  Then I let the dust drift back to the ground.  It shines ever so slightly in the first piercing rays of dawn and then disappears.
        The truth does burn: the light does not accept us, Nicholas; there is only the blackness that mirrors the void within our tormented souls.

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FICTION
copyright november, 1999 noah mclaughlin