The Call

Word count: 676 

This is from a story concept I call Dragons of the Cross. It takes place super far in the future when almost the whole world has fallen away from God. Nature and animals are really different (such as some evolving to be dragons) and even some humans have changed. Hope you like it! 

Landric padded through the cave nestled into the tall cliff. His wings, which were also his forearms, rustled along with him and his slitted pupils seemed to be able to see the faint area of the tunnel, though no light should have been able to reach out here. Behind him, his two companions followed; his brother, Auxentius, and their friend, Sylvi. 

All three dragons had been called to his place. They’d all had dreams and felt a need come here, like the pull of the magnet in the earth. They didn’t know why. They didn’t really know much at all about the world, as they had grown up with humans and never really been outside. Until recently, when they had been separated while traveling. 

Now, they were in this unknown tunnel. A kind voice in their dreams had told them there would be something special in this cave. Something that had answers. 

Finally, the tunnel ended. It opened out into a cavern, but not a natural one. This one had smooth walls and ceilings, obviously made by humans. Candles braced to the wall provided light, though not much. Some bookshelves stood around the room with some old books on them and a couple small tables were near them. On the far wall on the right was a closed door, but in the middle, in front of the three dragons were some large wooden doors that were open to them. 

Silently, Landric, Auxentius, and Sylvi walked through them. Immediately. Landric felt a warm, calm presence in the room. A row of long benches that took up most of the space were on either side of them. On the walls there were colorful pictures made of glass, illuminated by some artificial light behind. In between those, other pictures were carved into the stone and more candles hung around the walls. 

But most interesting was the far end. A platform of stone rested on the ground. A carved stone table sat in the middle and there were candles in holders on it, but they weren’t lit. A few chairs were off to the side and in front of them was a podium. Behind the big table, against the wall, was a small table that held some sort of container. Next to it was a lit candle in a red, glass holder. The dragons had never seen anything like this place. 

“Where are we?” Sylvi asked in awe. 

“I don’t know,” Landric answered, “but it feels peaceful.” 

“I wonder what it’s for,” Auxentius said. 

Suddenly, a door on the right wall opened. The dragons froze and a man walked out, also freezing when he saw them. He had tan skin and short dark gray hair. He was dressed in all black, except for the little white square on his collar. By his appearance and his scent, he seemed to be a rare  Unchanged human. As he took them in, a wide smile grew on his face. 

“Greetings,” he addressed them. “This might sound crazy, but I have been expecting you.” 

Landric started at that. He glanced at his friends, who also looked uncertain. They were always told not to talk to other humans. 

“It’s okay,” the man said. “I know you can talk. I know you aren’t normal animals, though I don’t know how. I’d be happy to listen to your stories, if you want to tell me.” 

The three dragons looked at each other, and nodded. Landric took a step closer to the human. “We were experimented on and given human DNA.” 

“I see,” said the man, “and how did you find this cave.” 

“We were told to come here in dreams,” Landric answered. 

The man nodded. “But you do not know why, yes?” 

The three dragons nodded. 

“I can tell you that. But first, let me introduce myself. My name is Aylen. I am a priest and I have been pastor of this church for thirty years. Few come here, but that may change soon. Because you three have been called to bring God back to the world.” 

The Sacred Church 

By Melissa Judith Avila

I didn’t become an angel like my mentor did. I didn’t drown in a river to protect my lover.

And I didn’t become an angel like my best friend did. Everyone knows the story. I don’t have to mention it.

Somehow, The Lord granted me a more peaceful transformation. It started in a secluded chapel, the day before I was to be ordained as a priest. It was a dark chapel built within a cave on the outskirts of my old academy’s gardens. The room was lit with candles and it permeated with the smell of frankincense.

I prayed over the ceremony that was about to befall me, but in that dark room came a piercing light! I awoke in the bright expanse incapable of feeling. And then a voice spoke to me.

“Demetrius, you have done right by me. For all your life you have been devoted to my Sacred Heart. And now the time has come to complete your faith! I offer you this blessing. When you are consecrated as priest, you will be admitted as My own, such as the great principalities— and your dear friends. You will be committed to My will, and as soon as it is done you will hear the cries of My people. Tend to my flock, as the day is made glorious before you.”

And I awoke. In shock I hurried to my feet and completed the disrupted prayer, snuffing out the candles but leaving the incense to burn.

…

Now the day of the sacraments has come, and none of my prayers are empty. In my nervousness, I had forgotten the day before, and His glory now arrives.

The processions and ceremonies had gone without a stir, until the time of the bread and wine had arrived. The Eucharist was now to be taken, and the women had presented the elements to be taken.

I was now kneeling before Him and the bishop. But taking the bread and the wine in my hands, I felt my body becoming lighter and brighter. Soon I realized myself levitating off the ground. The bishop, in awe of what had happened, let go of them and could not help but watch as I rose into the air.

And before the people, before the students of the chapel, before my family and before my friends, I became a flash of light. Wings sprouted from my back. My body became taller and stronger. And from somewhere I’m not even sure of, a staff appeared before me, tall and wooden like a shepherd’s staff. And out of this building, I could hear the thoughts and cries of everyone. Now, I, who once was a mortal man, am now an angel!

I do not remember what happened after that. I believe the Mass went as usual, and I was ordained as priest. It was a joyful day, as the Lord made his promise. And I, too, made my promise to Him.

…

I was back in the secluded chapel a few days after my ordainment. I became the academy’s parish priest and I was praying after the students’ Mass. I was praying until I heard a student’s thoughts in my head.

“I must get to the caves. Oh God, I must get to the caves!”

The thoughts were too rapid to comprehend past that, but the footsteps told me that he was close, and that it was frantic.

The steps came closer and closer to the chapel, and as the student ran down the stairs I heard, “My Lord! My Lord!”. He then arrived panting, and then he saw me.

“Father! Father Demetrius! For- Forgive me for disturbing you. I didn’t know you were here.”

“It is no problem, child. Please, sit down. Tell me, why do you come with such alarm?”

The boy huffed furiously as he tried to explain 

“I- I don’t know how to say this. I’m constantly stressed- like- every day. My thoughts are too rapid, the assignments too quick. My social life is in ruins too. Just now I had to outrun some bullies that were about to jump me! This is the only place I can go to where I feel like I have solace. This is the only place where my mind feels quiet and stress-free…”

I considered his words for a moment, then I responded.

“The Lord grants you sanctuary here. I am sorry for the things you go through. But I assure you, the Lord grants you peace, and one day, He will repay you for all you have suffered. For now, though, you may stay as long as you’d like.”

The boy seemed relieved at my answer. His body relaxed and his breathing grew steady. 

“Thank you, Father.”

“That’s quite alright. Is there anything else you’d wish to tell me, child?”

He paused for a moment and twiddled his fingers around nervously.

“Well… there is something else. See, there is this girl I’ve been seeing. Deborah. We’ve… talked a couple of times in the library, and sometimes I see her leave this chapel as I enter. I… think I may fancy her, but I’m not sure if she likes me back.”

I pondered a little while longer at that question. The children of the academy had been there at the time of my ordination. I heard their thoughts when I transformed, and I did hear a couple of romances, but I was not sure whether or not I heard one for this young lad.

“The Lord will open up the hearts of you both in due time.” I replied. “All you must do is pray.”

The boy was again pleased by that answer. He thanked me and then went on his way, quite more merrily than before.

And that is when I realized, no matter how simple or how complex my duties as an angel were, I was an angel, a helper nonetheless, and I had a duty to the Lord.

The Last Christian, 996 words, possibly part of a bigger story I've been thinking about

Joe had found the last group of Christians over the course of nearly a year. He had three detectives reporting to him: Morgan, Devon, and Ms. Helen. They were all undercover and planned to stay that way. Joe had worked with Morgan and Ms. Helen for a couple of years, they had been assigned to his project right from the start. Devon had only joined in the last couple of months. Joe had a lot of respect for his team.

The tips had dried up as they cleaned up more and more hidden churches. The Christians being driven deeper underground or they were dead. Joe, himself, had uncovered the final cell. He talked to people, watched people, listened to people; Joe knew people. When he was sure, he tipped off his team; they began their infiltration, one at a time. Joe co-ordinated resources, information exchange and kept track of all the evidence. Joe was good at his job. That was why the tips were drying up. There weren’t many left.

Twenty-two year old Morgan met him every other Monday. They sat back to back at a small coffee shop under Morgan’s apartment. Information was passed with he housing classifieds that Joe asked to borrow every week. Joe never read the housing section but he thoroughly checked every page, writing down addresses and names, times and codes. All rewritten in the listings. He made a few notes in the margins and passed it back as Morgan left.

Devon was middle-aged but looked about twenty years older in his begging clothing. Joe dropped a note rolled in a twenty dollar bill in Devon’s empty mug. Devon yelled nonsense and chased after him, shoving a return note into Joe’s pocket. He had repeated the exchange at an arranged time and an arranged place every week.
Ms. Helen was the best he had ever worked with, in all the years he had worked in missing persons and then she had continued onto his project to flush out the last of the Christians. She was nearly eighty-three, had never married or had children and truly lived for her work. She was always the furthest undercover, He saw her once every couple months but that was enough. When she said move, Joe moved. She called the final shot. She had been right this time as well. That final service in their so-called secret church had been full.
Joe stood on the sidewalk as the arrest officers went in. The basement of the abandoned fish cannery was not even four blocks from the Police Headquarters, but it was on the far side of the train tracks. It was Saturday night between the traditional Good Friday and Easter Sunday. Joe’s feet were cold; he was wearing his regular dress shoes with his suit and tie. He had worn an overcoat and leather gloves that morning, thankfully, as the late March weather was unpredictable.
An Officer marched Morgan out in a set of handcuffs, his head tucked into the front of his jacket as flashes went off around him. This wasn’t his first arrest and the officers hadn’t been informed of undercover agents on purpose. There were two young men, also cuffed. Six women of various ages, nine children and Ms. Helen among them. The children wouldn’t be executed. They would be reindoctrinated into society after their parents were either burnt at the stake or crucified, their choice. The last man to be escorted by an officer out of the building was the pastor, the maker of Christians and creator of churches. Joe watched the cross swing across his chest. The news cameras getting it from every angle, guaranteed to make the front page. The pastor had a tattered book still clutched between his bound palms.
Joe approached him as he was led to a patrol car. “Care to tell me anything that may save you?”
The man smiled at Joe. His silence and peacefulness unnerved the detective. Some were crying, but none were arguing or pleading. It was somehow less satisfying when they just accepted that their lives were over and spent the last hours of their lives in meditation.
“Hand over the book.” The officer demanded, holding open a large zip-lock evidence bag. The man dropped it in gently, “Now the necklace.” The pastor lifted it awkwardly over his bald head and placed it in the bag as well.
The pastor looked over to a different car and called out, “Ms. Helen, do not be afraid. Your are forgiven. Simply believe.” Ms. Helen waved her hands at him, neither confirming nor denying her belief.
The pastor also raised his hands and mouthed a blessing over Morgan being loaded into a different car. The ride to the station would be moments and then they would all be formally charged. The judge would declare convictions in the morning unless there was some very strong case that indicated coercion by someone else. It occasionally happened with teenagers but not adults. The undercover agents would disappear back into the world to live their shadowy lives until their next assignment. Joe didn’t acknowledge them at all.
They didn’t have much on the pastor. No one had been able to get close to him, he was careful unless the doors were sealed and chained at the cannery. They hadn’t tried to hide their service this morning with white noise or static. His officers had simply followed the people from their homes to downtown before taking videos of them entering the cannery. They had greeted each other with religious words and hugs. They had more than doubled the allowable group size and didn’t seem to care.
It had taken nearly a year since hint to arrest, but it had almost been too easy. Joe felt deflated now that it was over. In the last year there hadn’t been any other churches or even hints found. Joe was convinced these were the last Christians and this was the last hidden church.