Heaven

chapter 12: the blood of the lamb

"Have you been to Jesus for the cleansing power? Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb? Are you fully trusting in His grace this hour? Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?"

Sina neared the church and stood on the yellowing grass. Through the sheets of rain, he listened to the hymn. He wasn't sure if he should cringe or drop to his knees and lose himself in the drops of rain. What if I were to melt like a cube of sugar? Some inside there may say that's a miracle...not melting. Sina let out a faint snort and then leaned into the singing. He could easily pinpoint Cookie's voice – that deep baritone that should have been coveted in an opera house and slapped with a hundred-dollar ticket. Sina firmly believed his friend did not belong in a place like Purgatory — the shit hole—where no one would ever know that Cook. E. Jackson sounded like a fucking angel.

"Damn, you've got a good voice, Cook..." Sina whispered using his friend's given name and not the nickname Cookie had been given by those who knew him well. "You don't belong in fucking Purgatory. You're better than that. Hell, you're better than all of us combined."

Taking a few steps onto the lawn of Saint Agatha's, Sina stopped as the storm swiftly began to lessen. When he cast a look skyward, he saw the clouds part. It was now drizzling comfortably, but Sina was already soaked.

The singing continued to filter through the windows and cracks. There was another voice lost in the mess of what sounded like gargoyles in heat. Perhaps not as refined as Cookie's but it made Sina want to know who it belonged to. There was a lilt to it that conveyed some sort of secret, as though the singer wanted to sing but didn't want to be heard. Shrugging away his thoughts, Sina kicked at a spot of mud and looked down at where a single dandelion was growing. "No booze for you, buddy. Your brother was a lightweight. Betcha you are too."

While he was busy talking to the weed, Sina realized the singing had stopped. He heard the pastor thank his congregation for coming and then he heard him say that he hoped more people would show up in the following weeks.

"Hah! Fat chance, padre," Sina huffed. "No one in Heaven gives a flying fuck about God except those creeps in your church warming their butts in the pews who think their shit don't stink...Cookie excluded."

As Sina detected the people inside beginning to rise off their seats, he scowled and bolted towards a cluster of trees. "Where's my invisibility cloak when I need it?" He ducked behind a pair of large oak not wanting anyone – especially Cookie – to see that he was there. Of all places. Sina touched his forehead to the bark. I was never here.

"It's a miracle, Father," Delores exclaimed animatedly. She followed Cal like a lamb as he led them to the door.

Caleb reached for the handle. The buggy-eyed grin on Delores' face made him think of Jack Torrance's unsettling smile as he hacked the door in The Shining. The others behind her looked just as comically-cruel as they alternated between cooing over Louise's baby and looking over their shoulders to the back of the church to scowl and then whisper – in a rather gossipy manner – about Cook and why he should not be in our church with us true Christians. Their words pelted Cal and the interior of the church. He felt like they were slinging mud everywhere and were ruining the immaculateness of the building.

Cruel words were demons as they clawed at the holy place.

"He should know his place is in Purgatory with the rest of the trash Heaven has collected over the years."

"Doesn't he know he no longer belongs in Saint Agatha's?"

"Certainly not after what he did. Tsk. How dare he show his face? Has he no shame?"