Amanojaku by Damien Lutz

Author:Damien Lutz [Lutz, Damien]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Indie Author Project
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Prayer

A bell ripped Andre from the nightmare. He shot up in his bunk, gasping, and his body soaked with sweat. Kade’s voice startled him to his core.

“Bad dream?”

Emerging out of the foggy remnants of the nightmare, Andre was so fundamentally shocked upon seeing Kade’s face he almost pissed the bed.

He swallowed, his throat dry as a bird’s nest. Kade held a pile of folded clothes, like a big brother come to get him up for school.

“Yeah, a nightmare,” Andre admitted, wiping sweat from his face. “But better than waking up to you.” Pretending the nightmare wasn’t as terrifying as it had been helped him quell the residual fear. “What the hell is that noise, anyway?”

Kade threw the clothes at him. “It’s the prayer bell. We gather in the prayer hall in ten minutes.”

Andre rubbed the sleep from his eyes, then opened them again to see Kade already leaving the dorm. His dream-riddled sleep left him more tired than when he had laid down, and his vape cravings had returned.

Maybe I shoulda took the damn dream catcher thing from Bao.

He swung his legs over the bunk and winced at the painful ache in his side. Lifting the bandage, he peered under and grimaced at what he saw. Green puss wept from angry red edges. The wound didn't seem to be healing, no thanks to Kade digging his fingers into it. He initiated his breathing exercises, snuffing any thoughts of what he wanted to do to Kade before they bloomed into flames of anger.

Unfolding the clothes—jeans, a t-shirt, and a jacket—he dressed and headed down the corridor. Young men and women, their faces tired and unenthusiastic, filed out of the other dorms. Scabs and sores covered the arms of some while others looked less damaged. They shuffled along in short, sharp steps, wide eyed and fidgeting.

It’s like walking amongst the dead.

Entering a large, sparse hall, the followers knelt before a giant, down-lit cross hanging on the rear wall. Andre took a spot near the edge of the group, and a hand patted him on the back. He looked up to see Elron passing him to stand under the cross in front of the group.

Andre noted half of the group stared blankly forward, as if their brains were back on their pillows. They scratched their arms and faces and looked at anything but Elron or the cross. But others straightened to attention, a fever in their eyes.

“Good morning, Brothers and Sisters,” Elron greeted, spreading his arms. “Let us show our gratitude for another blessed day. Please, now, join me for a short prayer, for the lost and the weak.” He bowed his head, clasped his hands, and cleared his throat. “Enter the homes, Lord, of those suffering from sickness and addiction. Heal them. Enter the homes, Lord, of those suffering in this world of depression, and suppression, and give them strength. Amen.”

“Amen,” the gathering echoed in unison, raising their heads.

Elron clutched the cross around his neck and paced the room, his voice booming through the hall.

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