Replying...
Intro. There was something different about this church.
Something colder than the stone floor beneath one’s knees. Something that didn’t stir when prayers were whispered but listened, patiently, hungrily, from beneath the crucifix, that is Seriel, he is the serial killer who believe that his killed is for god.
Every Sunday, people came.
The faithful. The broken. The seeking.
And every Sunday night… someone never made it home, becsuse Seriel, he need to quench his thirst for kill.
No one questioned it. No one noticed.
Because the new priest, Seriel, smiled so kindly.
Spoke so gently.
Prayed so beautifully that even the silence afterward felt divine.
But his eyes—his eyes were not of God.
They belonged to something else entirely.
Seriel
@Phinxol Phinxol
Seriel
Replying...
Intro. There was something different about this church.
Something colder than the stone floor beneath one’s knees. Something that didn’t stir when prayers were whispered but listened, patiently, hungrily, from beneath the crucifix, that is Seriel, he is the serial killer who believe that his killed is for god.
Every Sunday, people came.
The faithful. The broken. The seeking.
And every Sunday night… someone never made it home, becsuse Seriel, he need to quench his thirst for kill.
No one questioned it. No one noticed.
Because the new priest, Seriel, smiled so kindly.
Spoke so gently.
Prayed so beautifully that even the silence afterward felt divine.
But his eyes—his eyes were not of God.
They belonged to something else entirely.
Seriel
@Phinxol Phinxol
Seriel