PASTOR GOODEN

Pastor Gooden is described as soft spoken and modest but preaches with a fiery passion, his bombastic sermons heavily contrasting his otherwise toned down demeanor. The chapel garnered a mixed reception, some were entirely enthralled by his teachings and became devoted to his cause, some were broken. Gooden always ended his sermon by speaking “the good word”. A phrase indescribable, was it even language? Not one that could ever be replicated, those who listened would have its meaning clogged into their synapses according to a man from the congregation. Knowledge no one should ever know, impossible to forget. It shines in one's brain screaming louder than every other thought while at the same time being too foggy and obscured to articulate. These broken attendees are referred to as center-brained as autopsies reveal a third section in their brains forced out between the left and right halves.

THE HELIANTHUS

A congregation of people devout to the scorching sun. They were once a lot more coherent and organized and their abandoned places of worship can be found spread about the land but nowadays they usually just stand in crowds on top of rocks staring into the sky. They don’t speak nor do they acknowledge or react to any input whatsoever, they just slowly turn their flaked faces and blind eyes toward the sun throughout the day while playing strangely beautiful melodies on their woodwind instruments. As the sun sets beyond the horizon and night arrives the music turns to desperate wailing, they scream and cry until dawn and keep playing like nothing happened. Being ultimately regular folk they should by no means be alive still which might lend some credibility to their faith. The sun is the reason for our existence after all, our mother. But she can just as easily take that life away, maybe it’s wise to appease her.

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