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Post by AdminRhea on Apr 25, 2011 2:00:56 GMT -5
Valentin picked at his food, sitting alone in the corner of the cafeteria, and tried to ignore the pulsing ache in his head. Think of something better than this. Before all of it started. He closed his eyes.
On the streets of Paris at night there walked a strange melange of people. Freaks of nature and whores and the sleepless and the holy. Valentin remembered being in the rain on the pavement and someone taking his hand.
"Come inside. It's cold out here, little one."
An old priest, the last of the order of silver candlesticks and incense at midnight, was taking him into a church. The young boy sat there all night and looked at the shimmering gold and listened to stories about a Christ child who did not leave children alone to the night.
When his mother came for him, he did not want to go, but the priest blessed her, offered her money, and let them back into the rain. Where was Jesus then? He'd left him alone to the night ever since.
Valentin opened his eyes. All of it useless and pointless. All of it utter shit. In a bout of frustration, he bit his finger until it bled, then hid it in his napkin. God. What was wrong with him? He wasn't tired, it was true, but he was angry. Angrier than he could ever remember being. This place wasn't right. Something was very, very wrong.
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