The Golden Chapel

The Golden Chapel Part Two

The Golden Chapel Was Silent


Sunset on the Golden Chapel.

In the west, the sky played host to a round silhouette, slightly golden in color, and wrapped in a challenging haze. The giant star watched blindly as the third planet held secrets that only God knew about.

In the courtyard, covered in an array of flowers stood a figure of a man in a dark robe. He had chosen the courtyard that evening because of the evil that was perpetually looming in the halls of the church. Evil he summoned through no fault of the church. Evil that plagued the Golden Chapel.

Here at the edge of the garden, the religious man never tired of watching the sunset, was lost in prayer. He thanked God for all the beauty that colored the chapel. He thanked God for the chance to teach his word to the civilized world that wanted to listen. Few indeed were only coming to the chapel to cleanse their sins. However, the religious man never turned them away. It simply wasn’t God’s will to do so.

The religious man drew a deep breath of the evening air, then let it out slowly. It had a slightly sweet taste, and it made him feel good. He gazed across the garden, wondering why evil has planted roots in the Golden Chapel.

It was a strange evil that deepened around him as he allowed it to consume his sanity. It was the type of evil that didn’t hide in the darkness. It penetrated anything it wanted. It was almost a religious evil.

A deep voice whispered.

The religious man stared fixedly at the flowers as he wished the voice away. A warm breeze touched him. It was almost like a breath against his cheek. A warm, dry breath.


Ashes to ashes

Somewhere in the distance, he knew God was watching this. The religious man turned his head, catching a glimpse of something demonic. His olive features were compromised, as evil whispered, his mind would not be still.

The breeze touched his face again, warmth against his cheek. It taunted him, but he did not challenge it in any way.


Ashes to ashes.

The whisper was haunting as it penetrated his sanity. He knew it was evil, but he couldn’t stop it. It just came against his will.

" Stop it! Stop it!" he demanded.


Ashes to ashes

The religious man cupped his ears and closed his eyes, but that did not stop the whispers that assaulted his mind. It did not turn away the voices in his head.

" Can I pick some flowers?"

He was confused.

" Excuse me, father?"

The religious man opened his eyes slowly, and saw a young girl standing in front of him. She was carrying a woven wooden basket and a pair of rusted shears.

" Well, can I?"

" Flowers," he trembled.

She nodded.

" You want to pick flowers from my garden?"

She smiled.

" Yes, well of course you can," he replied.

" Thank you."

He nodded emphatically, and relieved that it wasn’t evil playing tricks on him.

" You have a wonderful garden," she added.

The religious man smiled.

" My name is Clara Walker," she offered.

The religious man nodded slightly at the young girl, knowing that he allowed her to pick flowers only because it kept the evil voices out of his head. He realized that having another person with him allowed the sanity to flow freely.

Turning away from the religious man, the young girl walked toward the big red flowers that didn’t seem to close up like the roses. They dangled in the breeze awaiting attention. The young girl knew it, and she wanted to be the first to offer those flowers the much needed attention. She envisioned her woven wooden basket completely filled to the brim with those flowers.


Ashes to ashes.

The religious man couldn’t believe that he still had the voices in his head. For a moment he saw a demonic Being standing behind the little girl as she picked flowers. It was a crazy feeling that raced through his body. He experienced a flicker of amusement. A trace of jubilee entered his heart.


Kill her!

The garden was decorated for most part in typical Italian style. The pretty vines were sprawled around the structure of the Golden Chapel. The essential garden furnishings that included water falls, and bird baths covered the courtyard. It was a very attractive garden, and they purposely avoided the bareness feeling, and covered every spacious surroundings with some garden ornament.

A water sculpture splashed a faint mist on the religious man’s face as he walked closer to the young girl. Her golden hair was pulled back, and held together with a blue ribbon. Her innocense emanated from her tiny torso like the halo would from an angel.


You now would have the chance to experience the flesh of another human. Take her, and use her. She is pure.

" She’s a child!"


Take her, and use her. She is pure!

The voices in his head conveyed a depth of feelings that he may have been keeping stored away.

" Stop it!" he shouted as he ran back into the Golden Chapel.


Ashes to ashes.

The religious man stood in front of a large mirror in the entrance way. The mirror had dark red wooden trims, and it was slightly cracked near the bottom. The light from the entrance way came off the mirror and reflected on the religious man’s face, revealing new age lines that had not been there before. His bones seemed more prominent, and his gray hair, thinner. He had cheekbones showing through his olive complexion.

" Does my age and this insanity travel hand and hand?"


Kill the child!

" I will not take the life of an innocent child!" he shouted while gazing at his reflection in the mirror.


Take her, and use her. She is pure!

" Is it warm out tonight?" a cleaning woman asked as she stopped directly behind the religious man.

" What?"

" Is it warm out?"

The religious man turned toward the garden. " I think the temperature is normal for this time of year."

" It feels warmer," she added.

He nodded.

" Are you done in the garden?" she asked.

" I am," he replied, gazing out at the garden hoping to catch a glimpse of the little girl. " I am done for the evening."

" I thought about taking a walk through the garden," she said. " But I just had so much work to do."

" Enjoy it while you can," he suggested.

She looked toward the garden, " I will."

He smiled slightly.

" I do regret I must leave early tonight," she said. " I have so much to do, and leaving early is the last thing I need to do."

" Is everything okay?" he asked.

" My mother is sick," she replied. " I don’t really know how long she has left."

" Sad."

" She will confess all hers sins to you this weekend," she added. " She wants to go to Heaven with a clean heart."

The religious man smiled.

" I too will have to confess the many sins I have engaged in," she continued. " There is just so much to get off my chest."

" Please," the religious man interrupted, raising one hand., " you are not going to confess your sins now?"

" I thought now was good," she looked confused.

" Now is not good," he half shouted.

The cleaning woman opened her mouth to protest, then closed it abruptly as she felt the rage coming from his eyes.

" Have a good night," he said as he turned and walked away.

" He doesn’t even know my name," she whispered. " I’ve worked here for decades, and he doesn’t even know my name."

The Golden Chapel was silent.

© 2011 Frank Atanacio

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Comments 6 comments

Ruchira profile image

Ruchira 4 years ago from United States

Wow frank, you have me twirled in a mystery.

Voted up as interesting.

Didn't know that you were such a good mystery writer. Great work indeed!!


Frank Atanacio profile image

Frank Atanacio 4 years ago from Shelton Author

Thanks Ruchira.. I forgot about this little story :)


winbo profile image

winbo 4 years ago

great job frank..


Frank Atanacio profile image

Frank Atanacio 4 years ago from Shelton Author

thanks wimbo like i told Ruch I forgot I wrote this months ago.. thanks for bringing it back up Frank


thelyricwriter profile image

thelyricwriter 4 years ago from West Virginia

Wow Frank! Your just a great all around writer Frank. You have so much talent my friend. This was very impressive. You have as much detail in your stories as your poems. It is a great quality to have as a writer. Will have to read some of your other stories. This is impressive. Deep s*** Frank. Vivid as it gets.


Frank Atanacio profile image

Frank Atanacio 3 years ago from Shelton Author

You are good for my ego Lyrics LOL thanks bro :)

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