There was a Chapel by our school. Of course, no one ever goes there. It's rusted down, every pew covered in grime, and from what I've heard, there are weeds growing in the chapel itself. Not that it mattered. Nowadays, either you don't believe in God, or you hate him. I don't believe in God, or any god for that matter. It goes against all logic, science, and reasoning. I mean come on.
That Tuesday morning, while passing the homeless man, I heard him whisper my name. Turns out it wasn't the homeless man because he was asleep. No one else was around though. I continued walking, thinking I just needed sleep. But the voice continued, whispering my name all day. "Maxwell."
I fought through it and was able to ignore it, which was very hard considering I was trying to keep from getting beat up, as well as trying to learn.
"Maxwell."
I'm losing my mind. I'm losing my mind. No one is speaking to me, but I'm hearing voices, great.
"Maxwell."
God, God... Shut up.
"Maxwell!"
"WHAT?"
Oh. That was verbal. I'm in class. I just shouted 'what' at the top of my lungs in the middle of class. Goodie.
I got up and left the room.
The voice was never loud, it was always a whisper. I considered trying to speak to it, but even putting that idea on paper seemed dangerous. Talking to voices in his head? Yeah, that Maxwell kid is a creep.
I went to the bathroom and sat on the floor. Out of frustration, I began to softly cry.
"Maxwell."
I waited for the Maxwells to continue.
"I have a very big plan for you, Maxwell."
That was it for that day.
YOU ARE READING
The Chapel
General FictionMaxwell, a teenager in a world of hurt, discovers that something greater is taking place than what meets the eye in his own homelife, school, and neighborhood. He and his new friends team up with a stranger to fix up the old Chapel building near his...
