Rubies on the alter
Angello was young, the church was old. He had seen only 17 winters in his life with the 18th one beginning in another month or so. The cobwebs on the church door had seen more winters than him. The stone church had been forgotten by Angello's small village ages ago and was now surrounded by old twisted woods that many people claimed was haunted by sprirts. The many people that went to those woods to end their lives aided this belief. It was commonly believed that those that intentionlly ended their lives had the misfortune of being bounded to the cursed spot where they performed the act. This was the very reason that Angello had wondered into those woods. He had no way else to go. The bloody knife, still wet with his brother's blood, was still in his left hand. Being caught would certainly end in a hanging or burning.
He had ran blindly into the woods, after the deadly confrontation. He had just lost sight of the path he left, thinking that he heard others chasing after him, when he ran into the courtyard. He hid behind one of the small stone walls, trying as hard as he could to silence his breathing. Only after listening for several minutes with no sound of followers did he begin to calm. "Oh, Benjamin. I am so sorry. I did not mean to. It was an accident," he cried to himself stareing at the bloody blade.
The blade was his father's, and he had been sharpening it when his drunk younger brother came up to him just half an hour away. His brother had insulted him, yelled at him, blaming him for their father's death the week before. He tried his best to ignore the brother, but Benjamin had tossed the mug of whiskey at Angello and it broke as it his head. His head still hurt from the hit.
In the old church yard, he tossed the bloody knife away from him. It hit the church doors, making a loud clang as it hit the metal knocker. The noise made Angello recoil, the noise certainly would draw the people hunting him. He closed his eyes and listened, straining his ears to catch any noise, but there was none. He got up and slowly peeked over the small stone wall that he was hiding behind. There was no one. It was odd, he was certain that he had heard someone chasing him, that was why he had gotten off of the old path. A loud creaking noise startled him, causing him to jerk his head into the wall. The pain making him grab his forehead with his bloody hands. Still holding his head, he turned around, towards the source of the sound.
It took a moment, but he realized what was different as he scanned the courtyard overgrown with grass. The church door was now open, with the right door, the one that the knife had hit, now opening inside the church. In another moment, he realized the knife was missing.
He bolted up, holding the wall for support. There was someone else, someone had the knife.
He looked around him and grabbed a rock that he use as a weapon. It was relatively light, but still had enough weight to it so that it would do some damage if he put some force into it. It also was slightly pointed. Taking one last look into the empty woods behind, he started creeping towards the church. He listened and looked carefully, hoping that he would find the misplaced knife. Maybe it had fallen in different spot. But, no, it was gone. "Hello," he called out softly, wondering what he hoped would reply. But there was no answer. "I am just. . . just looking for my hunting knife, increse the wolf comes back." The lie came easier than Angello would have expected, if it was a person in there, it would certainly not help if they know that it was human blood covering the knife. One step, two steps, he was right out side the door, yet he could still not hear anything. Nothing besides his own breathing. "Hello? I mean you no harm." Keeping an eye on the church door, he knelt down and plucked a large stick off the ground. It was a big stick, one that he could use to poke or fight off someone while keeping them a few feet away from him. There was still no answer.
Take a deep breath, he ran into the chruch, hoping that he would be able to dodge because of his speed. He ran through the door, giving a involuntary yell as he feared for his life. There was no hit. Nothing jumped in or out of his way as he ran down the chapel hall surrounded by decaying church pews covered in codwebs. He was in the middle of the small chapel before he stopped running. He rapidly turned to look in every direction, but he still could not see another living thing. There were plenty of nonliving things, just nothing living besides himself. There were bits of rubble where parts of the thatched/wooden ceilings had fallen down. On some of these piles there were some plants that had started to grow, using the water and brief amount of sunlight that they were able to get from the holes above them.
Now certain that he had imaginated the knife vanishing, he walked back to look for it by the door. He scanned and scanned, going over some parts of the courtyard a good five or six times before giving up. He was alone, but the knife was gone. Mumbling to himself about how he must have been going insane, he walked back into the church towards the front of the chapel where the alter and shrine was.
The shrine was pretty desolate, it looked like someone had come in and stolen everything that would of worth. The gold and silver plates and cups that would usaually be on the alter were missing. Like the rotten pews and the chapel door, the alter was covered in cobwebs with some of the webs looking like they went all the way to the ceiling. The steps leading up the alter were rotten and Angello had to step through their ruins to the stones underneath to walk up.
It was when Angello was facing the alter with his back to the chapel enterance that there was a loud slamming. He quickly twisted around. The doors hard slammed shut.
"Angello."
Angello, did not speak. The voice, the voice that he knew, was coming from behind him, from the alter.
He turning to face the alter, slowly this time, not wanting to see, but knowing that he needed to see who spoke.
It was Benjiman. He was wearing the same clothes that he had been wearing during the confrontation earlier that day and in his left hand was holding the missing knife. The cut in his neck, where Angello had sliced his brother after being thrown against the wall, was bleeding. The cut had nearly cut off the head, and Benjiman quickly had fallen when it was originally inflicted. Yet, he was.
"I'm sorry," Angello gagged, the sight of the blood pouring out of the wound was sending waves of nausea through his stomach. He felt like he was going to vomit out his chest. "I'm so sorry, I never meant for any of this to occur." Unable to look the ghost of his brother in the eyes, he instead watched the blood fall onto the altar where it was forming a large puddle.
"I know, brother." The ghost said. "I want you to know that I want this. I want this very much, after all it is your turn." Angello did not resist as the bloody knife cut across his neck. After all, did he not deserve this. There was only a small whimper that turned to a gurgle as he fall onto the alter, his blood mingling with that of his brother. Outside the chapel, among the woods, it started to rain. Later, during the night, the rain would turn to snow.