• To fall on a mountain of blossom petals, to feel them caress my cheeks, to hear their whispers and embrace the intimacy. A needle, a prickle, or a thorn may not be found within these petals.
    This is where saintly sonatas by golden harps wraps its musical enchantment twice rounds our bodies, where untainted bliss will never be conditional, where theirs is no such thing as necessary evil - where our hopes and wishes have a glimpse of becoming true. This is a dream.

    Fragment I: Latent
    “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”
    A thick silence webbed its threads around our lips, the stagnant air grew heavier, my heart beats grew faster, and his refusal to speak another word slowly eats my tainted soul away. My faint whimpers finally slice through the threads.
    “What is wrong, Alexandria?” Father asks, his monotone voice bashing through the thin wooden wall between us, poisoning me with a feeling of uncertainty. His voice lingered around my ears, echoing the simple question over and over until a simple answer slips my quivering lips.
    “I –” A soft creak of the surrounding wood hushed me still, it was barely audible, like the batting wings of a fairy. My eyes darted in every direction while paranoia shrouds my under its blinding veils. Breaths quickly became gasps as I scavenge for the crumbs of sanity, while he, simply clears the phlegm from his throat and heeds.
    The walls of the confession box suddenly slam against my nimble body, I shriek at the unexpected attack. The walls themselves showed no mercy upon me as they slowly and sadistically crushed me between them. My shoulders dislocated in unison, followed by an excruciating pain holding me in its clutches as I tried to squirm and push the wooden walls back. My every bone began to give to the pressures of the confession box, and as I bawled Father did not uttering a sound nor show signs of alarm.
    “Stay calm, and breathe, Alexandria.”
    I attentively followed his instructions and closed my eyes while the walls could only tighten around me. I closed my tearing eyes and exhaled a heavy breath. When I dared make slits out of them, they flew open once they could not accept the dissipating pain, no longer did deep ridges scar the walls when I had clawed them for mercy, nor did my blood stain them. The air around us rapidly grew silent once again.
    Only to be shattered by my sobs, “Why?” Bitter tears stray into my lips and somewhat sooth my desperation, but where drowned by another wave of anger, “Why?!” I cry out, as I band against the impenetrable wall between us.
    The Father chuckles on the other side of the screen, sniveling as if his tears where only of previous amusement. “Tell me, Alexandria, what is it that you want to confess?”
    The fragile door trapping my fears within this horrid box bashes open with a forceful kick. A seemingly infinite single filed line of sinners waited outside, including nuns, other fathers, and monks. I hop over the rope fence and run through the aisle bisecting the nave. Besides increasing number of sinners waiting to be forgiven, only but a few remained sat on their assigned seats, praying, some are crying, others sleep.
    The brilliant light pouring through the stained glass shied away from touching the stone floors of the cathedral, forever shinning but never lighting.
    A faceless choir emerged from the horizon, all of them singing their psalms in perfect harmony, never off pitch or missing a beat. They almost seemed like angelic beings from Paradise itself. As I hear their psalms, they cast an enchantment over me. As I listen closer to their words, I begin to notice that they are speaking in a foreign language. The altar before them morphs into a conductor, feverishly swaying his baton at different, but never imperfect cues. He stalls his baton as high as his hands could, and the choir followed his order as they progressively heightened their pitch. They began to sprout skinned wings while their purple tunics transformed ripped cloaks, and as their pitch heightened, the conductor violently trembled before exploding.
    The stained glass, depicting saints, the Blessed Virgin, and apostles shattered, allowing a buffeting wind to flood the cathedral. Through the traceries trespassed hideous women with wings, screeching like starving ravens. In the meantime, those who waited for their forgiven sins, those who prayed, cried, and slept were oblivious and continued with their shady duties.
    The choir sprang from the floor and charged towards me while the hideous winged women snatched careless prayers and sinner from their feet. The fraudulent choir then gapes their slobbering mouths encrusted with rows of teeth as they flew closer.
    I screamed right before the choir began to maul my appetizing flesh. The winged women simultaneously rained down from the sky, dropping their meals. The choir itself disintegrated into ashes, all except their rotting teeth. As I look around, those who were once meals dusted themselves off and continued with their duties once again.
    Where the choir once stood, a baptistery flourished from the floor, its water gleaming from a light coming within. I reached my hand out as I dropped to the ground, allowing the ash to stain my clothes, letting the rotting teeth to skin my palm. Tears began to slither down my cheeks once again, once they touched the ashes, they sizzled and evaporated. A sudden weakness rested upon my body.
    “You’re almost there, Alexandria. Don’t give up now.” Says the Bishop as he stands beside me.
    Without another word, I begin to crawl to the altar. My weakness became torture as each inch sent an electrifying pain throughout my body.
    I pound the ashes with my fists, crying an angry cry “I can’t take it anymore! Please! What have I done to deserve this?!”
    “Know yourself, for no one can tell this.”
    My body involuntarily rises from the ashes and teeth, and stands poised without my command.
    “Don’t give up now.” He says before turning back and disappearing behind the crowd of sinners waiting for forgiveness.
    I instinctively run towards the baptistery with newfound strength. As I look down onto the holy water, shimmering with silver and golden lights, my heart floods with something I have not felt in years. I cup my hands and lower then just under the surface. As my hands slowly fill, I begin to experience a strange sensation on my back. Suddenly, my blouse rips open and a great wind follows. I raise my cupped hands to my parched lips and drink as my wings embrace me.
    I close my eyes, for Paradise awaits me.