Creative Writing: Cathedral

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The silence disquieted him, his arrhythmic heartbeat raging in his ears like a torrential downpour. He resided, alone, in a cathedral built upon the lies Elias heard, of false promises he knew he never should have believed. Loneliness attacked him at all angles. There were no numbers that could assuage his tremors, no patterns that could erase his memories that spilled out of him, wrenching him in four different directions: down, out, up, forward. Above him came an echo of birds crying in mourning, their wings fluttering, as he stood, expelled from the elevator that gave him no other consolation than a reminder of everything he left behind. In front of him, three tables stood in the center of the room, each one different than the last. …show more content…

The golden hues turned to greys and greens and all of a sudden the familiar fumes of his home filled his senses. A familiar scene lay upon his eyes: his home. He reached down, trying to feel the ground but yet little sensation came as his fingertips grazed the rough pavement. He tried shouting at a passerby—a worker rushing to a factory—but no head turned to greet his bewildered eyes. The sun was just rising over the tall skyscrapers, and his home, squat and grey, looked better than he remembered. He walked up to the door, and walked through—the door was ajar. Inside, he could hear wailing. Odd, he knew, for there were no children in the Eamon household besides Exton and himself. He turned to look at where the calendar always hung: turn right, near the door, rusty nail, always a year off. But it was not there. Instead, the calendar had been replaced by a photo of a smiling family—his, he presumed, though he had never seen the photo before. He realized, too, in that moment that his clothes were now questionably dry; and he took a step closer to the photograph, looking at two children, smiling, beside their father and mother. Elias had barely known his mother. His grandmother had always forbidden contact except on their birthdays, and the memories he had, or was told, about her were not his fondest. And yet, there she was: a smiling ghost of the past, wrinkles barely lining her face, strong arms supporting her two

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