• Remember when you were young and it used to snow in the winter? We'd wear our winter clothes and go out in the day and just play for hours. The three of us- we were inseperable. Who were we again? I can't remember your names or who you were- or who I am... but I will never forget your face. I know you can hear me and you've dreamt of us as we of you. We find eachother in our sleep... why can't we find eachother awake?

    ---

    17 years ago, I was born to a wealthy family of a long line of doctors. My father, the town physician, had raised me pious, righteous, charming and fair. He said it would please the lord. But we never once entered the church. Mother, father and my three sisters all of which were older, would go every Sunday, while I would stay home to study. Father would always 'The Lord has big plans for you, I'm sure. To waste your time in a church is pointless. You must study on your own.' I believed him for 17 years of my life. For 17 years I studied the way of the cloth, to become a priest, without stepping foot in a monastery. And I finally figured out why...

    "What in the name of-! Father! Come quick!" A sister of the church called out
    "What is it Sister Aileen...?" The father stopped in his tracks and began to draw a cross with his fingers from his head to his stomach and then on both shoulders.
    I could see the fear in both there eyes as I crouched, paralyzed, to the wooden floor. I could see the cross for the first time, that my sisters lightly spoke about. The beautiful stained-glass window that shone behind it. The decadent gold flourished embellishments that crawled on the arms and head of the cross. The pews, row on row, each made of redwood- in pristine order. The roof seemed endless, and at the top- a picture of an angel with his palms out.
    "Sister... get me my holy water. NOW." The father said with urgency. Sweat beaded from the grey tips of his hair and onto the floor. He began mumbling a prayer, while firmly keeping his eyes on me. Sister Aileen hesitated and backed away quickly, never dropping her gaze until she was too far to see me. Was it that bad?
    "Why did you come demon?" He yelled in a clear tone. Though it was almost impossible, I managed to open my mouth to speak.
    "I'm not a demon. I swear upon-"
    "Do not swear in the house of the Lord! It is not of your rights!" His voice raised, interrupting me. I didn't speak.
    What seemed like hours, were only minutes. Sister Aileen came back with the Holy water and the father began to pray once again.
    "...heavenly father, we ask that you may forgive us for letting this demon into your church. Holy God, please grant us with your power to destroy this demon and send his soul to you, oh righteous Lord." The father took a cloth and dabbed the holy water on it, letting drops hit the ground. He then washed his hands with the cloth and started to come close to me.
    "...please... I just wanted to see the church... I've never been in here..." I spoke in an agonized tone. Sister Aileen looked terrified- as if she were about to cry.
    "Quiet. Please..." The Father crept back to his composure. He held out his hands and then clapped them together. My heart began to race. I didn't know what was going to happen, but I knew it couldn't be good.
    "If you cooperate, maybe they will have pity on you, in the gates of heaven." He took his hands and then kissed each palm. Tears streamed from my eyes. I closed them tightly and began praying as well.
    "DO NOT PRAY, HEATHEN" The Father screamed. He pressed his hands on my face with enough force to knock me down. I squelched and tensed ready to feel a burning pain or anything- but nothing. I didn't move.
    I heard the father scream and the shattering of the holy water vial. His hands had been burned, each with a cross mark where he had kissed them. He screamed profanity as Sister Aileen ran to the alter and began to pray and chant. I had enough strength to look up, only to see the angel smiling down at me. Was this what my father meant?

    ---

    The breeze blew in from the north. The small town in which Lucas had landed, seemed to be quiet, with only a few souls out. The cobble-stone houses were lit, but all the stores were closed. Snow had fallen and footprints made scattered patterns of a visual map to people's destinations. In the distance, Lucas could hear horse-drawn carriages and fancy cars passing through the town, as it was placed directly on a main road for travelling. He was staying at a local inn, owned by an old widower. His room was small, but enough. It only had one bed and its own bathroom, but Lucas wasn't planning on staying there for too long. She had said that she gets 'a lot of people travelling through and stopping by for the night, but none as young as him'. Though he was 18 years old, he looked to be only 14. His brown hair covered his forehead and reached towards his eyes, as if it were trying to call his attention to get a haircut. The local town barber even offered half off when he walked by. But his hair was one of the memories he wanted to keep.
    Looking out his window, he sighed heavily. His journey was toward St. Johns- a city in between Georgia and Bucharest, in Romania. As he let his eyes drift and stare off into the distance, he started to remember the day of November 1st. The day he entered the church. The day his father told him the truth. The day he was banished and wanted. The day he began his new life. His father had told him stories of the angels and the fallen angels, but he had never thought that he, himself, would be one of them. He recalled the conversation easily, playing it backwards in his head.

    "I thought I told you NEVER shall you enter the church!"
    "But Father, How can I be a man of the cloth, if I have never entered a church? I didn't know-"
    "I know. Thats my fault. Let me explain something to you. You were adopted. Your mother and I adopted you when you were 7. Back then, we were a part of a clerical group- The Crusades, or Holy Knights. We had found you on a hunt one morning in a church. You were standing at the alter, frozen. And there seemed to be a light- a Halo around your head and white fire surrounding you. You were angelic- and we immediately fell in love with you. We had to have you as our own child. So we hid you and kept you away. You were always so... happy and pleasant. Your mother said you were a gift from God. And we tried not to favor you amongst your sisters... but... it was almost impossible. The night after bringing you home, you had seemed to run away. We searched everywhere and we found you at the church, standing there with the halo around your head. You seemed to be talking to someone that we couldn't see. I went to go touch you- and then..." He lifted up his sleever and revealed a Cross burn mark on his wrist.
    "From that moment, I saw something... a man with seven wings. No- not a man- A demon. I cannot explain to any extent as to the fear I saw when I touched you. But I still loved you as my son. You smiled blankly at me and said 'Damon son of Lucifer shall come. As long as thine angel is one, so shall he rise. Be it thine body, word of the lord.' Your mother cried. We knew that you were the son of the Devil..."

    Lucas opened his eyes and realized it was day time. He stretched out his body to get rid of the kinks from resting in an awkward position. He drew over his black long coat made of fabric and shivered a bit, letting out a breath of cold air. The streets were busy as it was the day before Christmas- his Birthday. But this meant nothing to him at this point. His main goal was to travel to St. Johns, where the 'Grand Exorcist' had said to be seen.