She didn't need to be told twice. The substance was at peoples feet now, eating away at their soles. My mother started to scream and too scrambled up towards higher ground. Herencia and Noël, along with my other friends, were jumping from pew to pew towards the back exit, becoming one of many rushing to get out.
My mother saw this and gingerly hopped away behind them, shaking the amberish goo from her feet as she went. As much as I hated my mother, I didn't want her to meet the same fate as his family, who were cowering by the large stained glass window at the front of the church. Unlike the outer family, their pride and lack of understanding kept them rooted to their son, who then looked at me in a way that should've been very familiar, but was brand new.
At last, I saw him feel the fear I knew so well.
I must've been a spectacle in that moment. Even my mother would've been proud at the absurd beauty of it, not that it matters. I could feel myself looking less and less human as I approached him. The tightening in my temples pulled my face up even more and I felt my eyes becoming more cat-like. My tongue felt like sandpaper, far too long in my mouth, and it unfurled in front of me as I let out a loud hiss. My ears and nails began to grow into points rapidly and the molten liquid was rising up past my ankles now.
He was by the window, backing away from his beautiful bride, when something clicked in the depths of my brain. I took my next step, but my foot didn't touch the floor. It stood suspended on the glossy surface of a wave, and when I raised my other one, the substance rose too and became fixed beneath me. I glided forward, rising meters above him, literally fuming. Glancing down, I saw he looked ill with terror, but I was not done.
I looked to the ceiling which broke into amber rain. It drenched the church to hell, painting the walls with golden vengeance, too painful to watch, too pretty to stop. It dripped from my outstretched arms, now hanging just a few feet above him.
He dropped to his knees in prayer.
He doesn't get to do that in front of me.
Nothing about this man is holy.
Truth be told, I didn't know where to go from here. I finally had something over him, physically, as the rain pelting him caused blisters to rise from each drop. He screamed in pain and begged for mercy, but I only extend what I've received, so mercy was not on the table.
Pleas to his God only made me more angry. I thought of my family and friends, my loved ones whom I lost and those I never had to begin with. It started to rain harder, so much that I could barely see in front of me. He was wailing in agony now, his less fortunate family members along with him. I couldn't stand to hear it any longer. I screamed at him to shut up.
He choked and stared at me, eyes bulging. He then opened his mouth but instead of noise, the hot honey colored lava poured from his lips and took his chin with it, along with his throat and clavicle and before I knew, it was my turn to be horrified. The liquid sprung from his ears, nose, and tear ducts: he was drowning from the inside. I couldn't stomach watching it for too long. His ugliness only intensified as his face and body dissolved in front of me. Disgusting.
