[Vyvian Blackthorne]

2nd Part of Crucifying Vincent
* * *
Outside stood Ms Buff, an elderly and overweight woman with a strange voice. She was dressed in her Sunday clothes (just getting back from Church) and walked with her purse on her side to her home. Her habits were dangerous, for she would randomly yell at people and things she believed to be unholy. Misconceptions included that she was an alien, or a monster, maybe on the inside, beneath her so called good heart, there was only pure and true nothing. The children were familiar with her, for she went door-to-door selling cakes for the Church’s fund, she would smile but when internal conflicts would arise, she would scream and yell at any person she would come in contact with. A woman blinded by her faith from reality, she lived in a world where whatever God says, goes.
Jonathon, Anthony, and Belle were dressed in brown Boy Scout uniforms. They thought up a plan to give the creature to her, and leave her with it to do whatever she pleased. Jonathon held a bag in his hand and tried to keep the creature safe from reality. Buff citied them and tried to look friendly as she thought: Jesus would be nice to them, why can’t you?
“Hello little ones, what’s in that bag of yours?” she said with her creepy and welcoming smile.
“Hello misses, we were wondering if you would be so kind as to take this injured animal home with you,” Anthony said. Jonathon added, “It would do you good for the community.”
Gladly she said, “Well, I do love the community.”
Fuck the kids and grab their money.
She was about to lose her mind, into darkness she would drift, not knowing the beauty within such.
Ms Buff took the bag to prevent any further dis-cussion, and the children knew they were safe. The creature in the form of the antichrist gurgled and laughed sinisterly as it shook in the bag, being carried to a new location. A new spawn it thought.
Miss Buff placed the bag home as she entered her white, Christ-loving home. A home only God could love was the houses’ motto. Something that Buff was well aware of but tried not to think of was that the house was filled with ATHIESTS! ATHIESTS! a while back from the previous owners. The ATHIESTS! ATHIESTS! were people she did not clearly accept, Buff didn’t accept any different form of people. She knew that if she painted her house Church white with so called ‘nice’ colours, she would be safe from the ATHIESTS! ATHIESTS! (to which the nuns considered them to be).
The spawn gurgled in the bag, it barfed small foamy material from its own mouth-the presence of such franchise in the room. Burned it slightly, yet it knew that she had no real faith (much less common sense) therefore it could not harm him. Soon, the spawn leaped out of the bag and onto the ground. Miss Buff turned her head as she unzipped her clothes, revealing her sixty-something and droo-ping breasts. She saw that the thing in the bag, the animal had escaped its prison, without even knowing what it was. What was present in her home? Could it perhaps be something unholy? No matter how disgustingly exposed she was, Miss Buff searched the house to find what was with her. A rodent, she thought and then added: rodents aren’t holy! She finally saw on the clean white carpet, drool-like sticky material that could only be produced by perhaps a slug. Finally, Buff began to speak, not even remembering the names of little boys who gave her the bag.
“Come out wherever you are, you old pile of sticks!” she said, picking up the broom clearly visible from the kitchen. The drool trails lead to the opened garage door not far from the kitchen. Her heart pounded. What was there was beyond her, what would happen; only God would know. In preparation she shielded her eyes. She unwittingly entered the garage, not knowing what to expect or to find.
What happened next is hard to recall, for she heard noises gurgling like the unholy antichrist himself-such noises were those that terrified her to death. Sweet, sweet death.
And then everything went black and she rested in eternal peace, not knowing what exactly had gotten her.

Vincent lay dead, hanging on the wall upside down. His eyes were shut gently and half of his left hand was nailed down to the gigantic cross. The fire had burned out by then yet the deep smell of roasting, burning flesh still stayed present in the room. All of the boys had gone home to their care-free houses. Jonathon’s parents seemed not to mind of what happened to their son-they had enough problems on their own. Vincent’s parents returned home to find him in that position, both of their bodies had immediately become lifeless.
Feeling they were with their son in eternal peace, Vincent remains in the upside down (inverted) position he remains in. On a Sunday afternoon this had occurred, right after Vincent had gone to Church to learn of the meaning of life and death.