porkyandthemob

David lay unconscious on the sofa.  A large crucifix hung on the wall over him.  Lightning flashed outside, the light sparkled through the small window opposite from him.  The window was also stained-glass, but very simple.  It was a green tree; the blue sky was its backdrop.  In the foreground was a child sitting against the tree, with a book.  The priest came in to check on him.  Seeing he was still asleep he left, smiling.  He walked out, up the center of the nave, passing benches and seats.  There were hundreds of them.  He stopped at the transept where another priest was waiting.  They spoke quickly – in Latin.

The priest heard the commotion and made his way to the foyer.  Seeing the drunkard on the floor, he helped him up and brought him threw the doors.  Another priest joined him.  They pulled him across the back of the nave – through more, old, oak doors and into a study of sorts.  They laid him down on a red sofa along the wall.  The first priest made a cross with his hand and gave a smile of encouragement to the unconscious man.  The main hall of the cathedral was vast – made up of the nave, transept and apse.  Each section was noted by a new set of columns.  There were 86 columns in total, each soaring to majestic heights.  The ceiling loomed over 50 meters high.  The top of the columns blossomed out into arches, forming the ribs of the ceiling.  The columns were of volcanic rock too, but they had a reddish-purple color.  Unlike most other cathedrals and their smooth marble and other precious stones, the volcanic stone was rough.  It would cut anyone that brushed up against it.

Seen from above, the cathedral was a cross shape. The top of the cross was arched, forming the apse. The roof was tiled in blue and green. It was over 100 meters long and the highest point was well over 120 meters high. There were two arches per story in each tower. Within every arch there were two long, stained-glass windows. Beautiful cornices with minute detail divided each story. The rain continued to pour down, deluging the streets and ally ways. David looked around and cursed. He pushed the heavy, iron latch on the door and crept inside. It was dark, and quiet. He was in a small room with a low ceiling; the foyer. Wood panels made up the walls; in front of him were more doors. These had extensive decoration on them: beautiful hand-carved ornaments – flowers, saints, and crosses. The doors had thin, stained-glass windows – dark reds, greens, blues, purples, and oranges. On the right there was a wooden box on a pedestal. Seeing it was locked, David frowned. There was a small bench on the left. Breaking the serene silence, he slipped moving towards it. His head landed hard on the cold, stone floor.

David felt the water hitting his face, but then it spread over his body – it had begun to rain. The streets were quickly emptied into shops, porticos and even busses. It rained hard. Large globules fell from the sky, inundating wherever they fell. David got up looking at the disgust on peoples faces in the full porticos. He turned, rounded the fountain, stumbled twice, but made his way up the stairs to the cathedral. Small columns held up a layered, arched awning over the strong, yet ancient oak doors. The awning was made of cylinder arches, held up by intricate capitals decorated with acanthus leaves. Under the awning he waited.

Families quickly moved on their way.  Others took steps back.  The mass of people parted like the Red Sea as he staggered back into the square.  A large fountain sat between him and the cathedral.  He fell at its black-rock base, closing his eyes.  The fountain was made of dark marble and granite.  Gargoyles, like those on the cathedral, circled – facing outward.  They had long tongues from which the water poured into the fountain pool.  Their teeth were jagged, stained by the calcium rich water.  Their wings were spread open, boasting an impressive span.  The gargoyles held on their shoulders a large monument framed in gold.  It had an inscription that read:  “Pour ceux qui souhaitent entrer ce temple divin, faites-le avec caution, le cœur contrit et l’esprit de repentance.  Car ce sont les lois.  Nul n’entre sans penser qu’au bon dieu.”– “For those who wish to enter this divine temple, do so with caution, a soft heart and will to repent.  For these are the laws.  No one can enter without a thought of the good god.”  Crowning the monument was one more gargoyle – it was covered in gold.  It’s tail wrapped around its foothold – its wings semi-closed.  It looked into the sky with its beady eyes.  It bore its teeth and tongue.  Water shot out of the open mouth.

David stumbled through the square and into the street.  He reeked of booze, and had small, recent punctures along his arms.  The street was crowded, full of Saturday morning shoppers.  The cobblestones under their feet were smooth and rounded.  David tripped on a permanent rut, worn deep into the stones.  They vaunted their hundreds of years of use to him.  David cursed aloud.  A small pool of blood formed under his knee.  Getting up he looked up at the cathedral before him.  He cursed again.  His sweatshirt was tattered and stained. The holes in his trousers presented his thin legs to the world.  The flowing blood mixed with the dirt on his legs.  His wild, curly, orange hair had not been washed for some time and his hands were brownish-green from rolling marijuana cigarettes.  Someone tried to ask if he was OK reaching their hand out, touching his shoulder.  “Don’t touch me!” he shrieked.