After some time, The Caretaker stumbled to the altar and raised an empty glass, their face glazed over and eyes shining.
"Take your seats, take your seats..." they murmured. There was a rush of quiet scraping as the guests sank into their seats, every pair of eyes watching the silhouette at the altar, glistening softly in the moonlight.
"Now...thank you all for coming tonight..." They smiled that unnatural smile again, teeth like knives. "This is a special occasion, a very special occasion...I hope you all wore your best." There was an empty pause where there should have been laughter.
"It was...an important choice to come here..." The Brother's stomach twisted as he wondered for possibly the first time whether this was the right choice. Should he really be in this cathedral, surrounded by people with empty eyes and unnatural smiles?
"And undoubtably a hard choice for many of you..." The Caretaker continued, "But I assure you...you made the right choice..."
Tall, thin waiters began to hover around the room, setting glasses full of a clear liquid on the tables. It smelt of flowers.
"Society is flawed. Friends change." The words had no hatred, no menace, no bitterness, only a sense of defeat. This was the voice of a person who had completely given up. "Life...is not worth living."
The words echoed around the cathedral and this time, there was a hum of agreement.
"If you will raise your tablecloths," The Caretaker murmured, "you will see explosives strapped to the pedestal." They were right. The blinking red timer on the bombs were already flashing at thirty.
The Brother turned to look at his sister. Her eyes were empty. As they had been since the day Mama had died.
He turned back to the gaudy figure at the altar, who was swaying to the ticking sound issuing from each table. They raised their glass, something like relief flashing over their face.
"Cheers."
The last thing the siblings saw was the glow of the moon reflecting from each other's empty eyes.
YOU ARE READING
an untitled story about ambivalence
Mistério / Suspense𝘵𝘸 - 𝘴𝘶!𝘤!𝘥𝘦, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘦@𝘵𝘩 "Seems a shame," the woman on the couch whispered, "To be inside on such a nice night." "Not for long," her brother mumbled, almost mournfully, "not for long..."