What Is The Purpose Of The Church?

Blinking, the woman stared at the duo. She could feel the pureness of the soul belonging to the child, and the lack there-of in relation to his butler. A malignant creature then. And his prey. Such an odd choice, she mused, as pure souls rarely wanted anything to do with creatures such as demons. She let her mind lick at the outer layer of his being, and she smiled at the feel of the aura.

Gawain’s throat tightened with emotion. “Never. I’ll leave an offering, too. I owe much to your father. His passing brought you and your mother into my life, so I will honor him until I die.”

“Ok, I will grant your wish, but don't be sad when you realize that it is not the change you were looking for,” Climatine said furiously.

Adjusting my midnight blue tie, I hurried down the sidewalk to St. John’s Baptist Church. Sunday morning, and I was barely awake, the thick fog blurring my vision. If you haven’t already guessed, I’m the enterprising young fellow that springs out of bed at five o’clock every weekend to ring the church bells, waking up my dead and dying little town. This Sunday was muggy as usual, the sun never showing up to greet me. Skipping up the cement steps, I took hold of the clammy oakwood door to let myself in.

During the Middle Ages religion was extremely important to everyone. At that time it was Christianity that people followed, they were greatly influenced by the Christian Church. The church hindered the medical progress by forbidding dissection of human corpses, insisting that people agree with the writings of Galen, encouraging people to rely on prayers to the saints and superstition to cure them of disease and encouraging the belief that disease was a punishment from God - this prevented investigation into cures.

The morning was wet and gloomy. Hunter and I approached the church, the wind was blowing at his tie, and sweeping through my dress. We walked into the house of God and found our spot on the hard pews. Shortly after our classmates found their seats and joined us. They stood alone with their sponsor behind them. Waiting their turn to walk up to the bishop and speak in front of the church. Yes, Hunter and I walked up to the bishop alone but when we both returned, we returned to someone, unlike our class mates.

The room was sparsely furnished, and cold as ice. On his right, was a bed torn apart in disarray, as if someone in it had been thrashing about uncontrollably. The sheets lay twisted on the floor, and appeared to be soiled with sweat and urine. By the window, on the opposite wall, was a single oak captain style chair, and off in a, particularly dark, corner crouched the lone figure of a man. The only light came through the grey-black curtains, draped across the rain spattered window, which looked out onto the drive below. The priest stepped forward, sucking his breath in silently and quickly and holding it. After scanning the sparsely furnished space, he turned to the man sitting in the dark far left corner. The man was scrunched into a tight ball, with his knees tucked tight to his chest. He stared down at his bare feet with a smile plastered on his face, and a slight heaving in his chest as if he were stifling mad

“Kingsman,” he hollers, as several gather behind him with the second commander standing directly behind Gabriel. “Escort Prince Gabriel to the dining room, and if he refuses to go, have the servants make him a bed in the dungeon.”

“It happened long ago in my days of youth, a tale so bizarre, it was as if history itself tried to hide it from the world. Yet those events etched into my heart deeper than I could ever forget, even if I were the only one left who remembers.” A wrinkled, yet sweet and endearing, hand stretches out to touch a young child’s face. A face of innocence to world. The candle that flickered in the room grew strong against the night sky that pierced the windows.

"Okay, how's this for a wish? I wish that Sara, Jack, and I had a million dollars into our bank accounts."

“ Settle down I understand that most of you don’t like what is happening, but I can’t change that.” The priest said calmly.

The young man stood in the center of the empty cathedral. The morning sunshine still struck the floor through the snow glazed windows, and there in the light from the stained glass, Cyrus Ainsworth saw the mirage of a young woman. Unlike his ghostly and understated appearance (though not unattractive), he recalled her bold and dark features, ink on the canvas of her fair yet still warm skin. Ringing like the bells in the chapel do, he remembered her strong yet soothing voice calling out for the last time, and the detail of the way she composed her every movement with such elegance, and even when she lay motionless, it was with grace. She was truly an angel in his eyes, but an angel that had now fallen.

“I would hardly call it a wish,” It whispered under its breath, “But very well!” the creature then declared so the girl could hear.

"I am here to serve your king. I do not want to be in my fathers kingdom anymore. I wish to make peace with your people and bring destruction over my fathers people!" he quickly stated. He held his head high, hoping the Crondel would let him join and not kill

Niece: “Have you ever had the conversation with anyone in the family about what you want when you are at your last days on earth?”