“Do you see it?” Gareth Pruitt Truman intensely looked each member of the massive congregation in the eye. “The darkness.” He stomps his foot and the members gasp, a woman faints.

“You see, folks… it’s in each and every one of us. What we, as humble servants, most desperately require… is power. The power… to bring LIGHT!”

The congregation responds to ‘high holy father’ Truman with a “LORD YES!” Viewers from home join in screaming at their TVs to the broadcast.

 

“Step forward, young man.” Gareth points to someone at the back of the auditorium.

Everyone turns to see who has been chosen by his holiness. It was a man comprised entirely, and poorly, of pillows, though it raised no question. Through a pillowy smile, there was a clear darkness.

“He who sits on high has brought your fate to our place of worship and you may now feel his grace within yourself.” the enthusiastic pastor proclaimed. The pillow-being stepped up the many steps to approach the podium and experience this grace.

“Take a knee before your lord.” father commanded.

A pillow leg squished into the ground and the being lost little height to it. It’s facial impressions softened to await the blessing.

“Lingering within you is the ultimate sin, the most malicious of evils.” Gareth placed his hand on the pillow head and turned his own eyes slyly to the congregation whose breath was held. “And you are not alone in that condition.”

Gareth slammed his other hand into the back of the one placed upon the pillow. The being stood and faced the others. Above a silly indented face was the imprint of the pastor’s hand. It quietly walked down the steps and out of the building.

“Another miracle before your eyes! Cleansed in the light of the lord!”

The service concluded with the congregation applauding what Truman was attempting to pass off as a miracle, and paying tithes to the crook. The penniless flock fled from the auditorium less fulfilled than when they entered, having given everything to their faith. And they would come back, excited for something to change, only to find the same result. In actuality, Gareth’s show was not all in vain. His actions tempted a much less theatrical fate than the path he currently walked.

Before laying for bed, he spoke to a fellow religious showman on the phone. “I think it’s time to expand. I want to open another location near the city. I’m just not making enough off these sheep anymore. It’s not like it used to be. They barely tithe!”

“Did you tell them the lord demands it of them?”

“Yeah, maybe I’ll tell them again.” Gareth bid farewell and put away the phone and swatted away a bee, one of many he’d been trying to eradicate of late.

As the pastor laid down to sleep, he noticed his bed was much more comfortable than he remembered. He started to believe in heaven as his head sunk into the most plush material he’d ever felt. In the dark, he thought his eyes were tricking him. In the pillow, a face. Above it, the mark of his own hand.

Truman fought for every breath, and was losing. He reached for the lamp beside his bed to hit the assailant with. His finger barely reached, but was able to flick on the switch and bring light.

The fight was over when the light came on. The pillow slithered away into the night and it was no surprise. The pastor came to his senses rapidly, realizing a man dressed in dark red robes stood above him, horns protruding from his head. On the ceiling a shadow was cast behind him of dark, shredded wings, spreading across the room.

“Demon!” screamed Gareth, pushing himself against the wall behind him.

10 voices bombarded him in response, “Silence.”

The assassin moved his hands in such a way that a red odachi blade formed. Truman was too terrified to make any sound, although he appeared to be screaming at an incredible volume. The long odachi was plunged through his chest, through the bed, through the floor and tragically through the more valuable lifeforms under the earth.

“Rise.” a bodiless voice spoke.

Gareth stood in complete emptiness, listening for the next word.

“You are here not because you are deserving of redemption, but because redemption is the only suitable sentence for your eternity. Above, below, between. You are unworthy of it all. You have led astray many who would otherwise have lived simple, righteous lives.” the voice did not allow Gareth to speak. “As I grant you the power needed for redemption, I will strip you of everything you have.”

An orb of pure white appeared in the blankness, light washed over the false holy man, followed by its shadow. He felt this was a fate worse than death… then, he felt nothing at all. 

Enter Gospel.