Hey guys. School is approaching, so I won’t be able to post as often as I would like. Instead of posting just book reviews, I’d like to show you guys my creative writing as well. This one is called “Repent.” I saw a guy on the side of the road with a big sign that said repent, and the inspiration came to me. Tell me what you think!
He sits in the pews; sweaty, tense, still. Repent. He remembers Remy’s hand reaching down there. He looks across the aisle and sees him. His skin is glowing under the hazy light. Beautiful. Dangerous. Begrudgingly, he looks ahead. The air; stale, muggy, and stifling. It seems to take shape. It wraps around everyone, almost like an aura. The air around Preacher Ryan constantly wavers. Sometimes, the air turns pure and white, which makes him look like a god; other times, it turns angry and red, which makes him look like the devil. He can’t tell what Preacher Ryan’s true air was. Curious, he snuck a glance at Remy. His air was grey and still. No movement. No color. Just him. He looks at Remy’s lips. Full. Soft. Dangerous. Hot and sticky blood began to pool at his feet. It escapes his attention.
The church begins to shake as Preacher Ryan yells. “REPENT. THE LORD GOD IS COMING TO STRIKE US DOWN. REPENT TO BE SAVED.” The congregation yells back in agreement. “AMEN. AMEN. AMEN.” The air around everyone begins to sway. Preacher Ryan’s air began to turn a deep, dark red. Unmoved by the sermon, he looks at Remy and remembers the kiss they shared in the janitor’s closet. The air then was also stifling and muggy. The closet was cramped, so they could feel each other’s bodies. A broom was resting on the back of his neck as Remy pulled him in for a kiss. His heart, already beating fast, exploded into a messy melody. Their hands explored each other in the cramped closet. Remy’s hands, slightly shaking, asking permission, moved downward. He is seized out of his rememory when he feels something sticking to his pants. He looks down and sees the blood slowly rising up his slacks. He looks around, startled, the air is still swaying, Preacher Ryan, still preaching, and the congregation, still yelling. But the blood is rising up the legs of everyone in the church. Even Preacher Ryan. Even Remy.
“WASH YOUR SINS IN THE BLOOD OF THE LAMB AND REPENT.” The blood is at his thighs now. And he can’t move. The blood holds him in place, burning him. Everyone is acting normally, as if this is just another regular Sunday. Remy is still looking ahead, stoic, still, grey. “BATHE US IN THE BLOOD, GOD. CLEANSE THE EVIL FROM OUR SPIRITS.” Pastor Ryan’s speech is distorted now. His voice is deeper, and he is swaying with the movements of the air. He sways chaotically and sporadically, almost as if he’s having a seizure. His eyes are wide open, his voice still getting deeper, and his swaying is feverish. The congregation begins to sway with him. Held down by the blood, people start to throw their torsos wildly, and they begin to moan. The sounds that come from them are sorrowful. Remy is also moaning and swaying. The blood up to their waist now. The moans vary in range; the people in front of the congregation are the loudest. Their voices sound like a deadly choir, whereas the people in the back are the quietest, their voices drowning in the sea of voices in the front of the congregation.
The blood gathers at his penis, burning him. Everyone is still swaying and moaning, the church infected with a fever. The blood begins to slowly caress his penis. Gentle. Lovingly. Just like the time in the closet with Remy. The warmth of the blood makes his stomach tingle and his toes curl. A quiet moan escapes him. His hands fly over his mouth, shocked. He looks over at Remy, who is also moaning and swaying. The caresses turn into squeezes. He can’t help the melody that escapes his mouth. His arms start to tremble. His head starts to move independently. He tries to escape the satisfying torture, but the blood is holding him down. His body is not his own anymore. His mind goes back to the closet, once more. This time, Remy is on his knees. His hot mouth swallowed him. His eyes rolled back to his skull. His mouth produced a similar melody. His body, then, was not his own. He returns when he feels the familiar fireworks spreading throughout him. The blood is at his neck now. Everyone in the church, including him, is throwing their heads wildly and moaning. He feels his release coming. Cumming. He’s the loudest he’s ever been when he feels it. All he can think about is Remy as the blood swallows him. Repent. Rinse. Repeat. Amen. Amen. Amen. Repent. Rinse. Repeat. Amen. Amen. Amen. repentrinserepeatamenamenamen
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