Young Writers Society

I've just read this and part 1 of the story, and I find it interesting because I have kind of no idea at all where this is leading to. Part 1 has practically nothing to do with part 2, and both end with open endings. The boy (Jay was his name I claim to remember) should have gone to hospital, and Melicia has to find out who the denizens of the church are. They could be anything, spirits, angels, or just humans, so there is definitely much potential behind it.
I already read the corrected version so there is nothing I can say about it, especially by knowing that I myself am not the god of grammar.
Finally, all that I can say is that I look forward to part 3 to see how this turns out, and what could link the 2 protagonists in the end (if they will have a link, that is).

In the name of the father, the son and of the holy spirit. Amen.”

I've shouldn't had took over for Melissa.”

became a rivet of words

muttered Melicia under her sweet breath,

spreading the good word.

She tried once more, channeling more strength into her arms only to be met with the same results.

As she attempted once more, a thought had came up.

Eventually, the idea that she was now trapped inside the church had come to be.

Squallz wrote:Chapter II: A Dark Priestess



“In the name of the father, the son and of the holy spirit. Amen.”

“Amen.”

“Please be seated.”

With a simple wave of his hand, the sound of banging wood and mumbling had filled the stone hall as the Catholics [s]seated[/s]sat back down. The room returned to silence and two altar girls emerged from the chapel, which was connected to the main complex.

The priest stood behind the altar, his hands tucked away within his white robe[s]s[/s]. His face was stern and wrinkled[s].[/s], The dimples beneath his eyes deepened as he focused his attention on the altar girls slowly making their way up the aisle.

On the end of the row, a woman who was dressed in a silky black dress and sunhat turned to face them. She tilted her shades down and studied the girl more closely. Melicia caught a glimpse of the black clad woman in the corner of her eye. A sudden uneasiness began to coarse through[s]out[/s] her body. The urge to make the first move surged [s]its way [/s]up her arms[s].[/s], [s]B[/s]but as Melicia gave a second thought to the situation, she realized that it would simply draw unwanted attention as well as another boring [s]literature[/s]lecture from her parents whom couldn’t even come up with a more original way to scold their kids. It would surely be the end of Melicia’s days of dressing up.

The altar girls continued their way up. One by one, several of the Church’s loyal members began placing chalices on the altar, emitting a display of spiralling smoke. Melicia drew a breath. The incense had slightly calmed her down, more powerful than the holy water cascading gracefully from the rocky fountain and into the basin below.

Without a word, Melicia and her partner positioned the crosses which they were carrying on the far ends of the stage and returned to the centre. In following the tradition of the church and to avoid possible conflict, they bowed to the priest and headed back to their stations.

Melicia leaned forward[s]s[/s] onto the table, resting her chin on the palm of her hand. The priest treaded his way to the bible resting on the podium. He slid his thumb to the side of the pages and opened it to where the bookmark was placed.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son.”

Every word that crept out of the priest’s dried, clambered lips was nothing but incoherent gibberish to Melicia. She couldn’t care less about the teachings of Christ let alon[s]g[/s]e grasp[s]ed[/s] an understanding of Catholicism itself.

“If I could just finish the race and complete the job the Lord Jesus gave me. I live to tell the world his message.”

Melicia tapped her nails on the wooden surface of the desk. It was the only movement that was available to her in this prison of religion. The preachings of the priest were the shackles and the architecture of the church the icy, damp exteriors, confining her from the media corrupted society.
Her only resort now was to close her eyes and retreat into the inner sanctum of her childlike mind. It was through here that she was able to profess the slightest of her frustration.

“Ooo, that Melissa is going to pay.”

As the candles on the altar burned ever shorter, the preaching became a rivet of words that channeled down the benches, acting as a spell to draw the unfaithful into a sleeplike state.
Darkness came and went as Melicia was nudged on the arm by her partner and cast back to life.

“Melissa, wake up. It’s time.” Sarah had got up and scampered to the priest.

The other members of the Church had risen from the stands to assist the priest in preparing the sacrament of Eucharist. They were part time workers, mostly retired and desired easy work to spend what remaining years they had left.

The priest handed to Melicia and Sarah each a copper bowl which contained several circular pieces of white wheaten bread, randomly scattered like the coins in the donation basket. The front row of people formed a line on the far right of the church, expecting to be served. On the day before the mass, Melissa had gone over with Melicia the recitation when she was approached by a person.

“D-do you accept the body of Christ?” said Melicia nervously.

The woman nodded and stacked her left hand on the palm of her right. Melicia lowered her hand into the bowl and held a piece of bread between her fingers. Without making eye contact, she dropped it into the awaiting palms of the woman.

Melicia watched as the people started filling the benches, occasionally dipping her hand into the bowl to fulfill their need of Christ. The Eucharist was drawn to a close as Melicia served the last person in the queue. Metallic chimes of bowls and plates being neatly stacked on top of another had dominated the stage. Chalices used in the sacrament were the last to be packed away. The priest stared into the contents inside. The wine was still filled close to the brim, a testament of the declining quality of the Church’s wines.

Melicia returned to her station, bored. She leaned back and closed her eyes once more.

“Melicia, be a good girl and help Dad with the shopping.”

Her mother was donned in a black robe, her clear, brown eyes concealed within the shadows of her hood. Melicia held her hand, cold as ice. Tears began to swell in her eyes but she couldn’t bring herself to cry, not when her parents were facing a perilous moment in their lives. If she lacked control of her emotions over her mother’s dying touch, then she would [s]had[/s]have no chance when she confronted the authorities face to face.

“Mum, I’m sorry. If that lady comes near Dad again, I’ll be sure to kick her butt!”

Melicia had woken, bathed in a veil of prismatic light that beamed from the glass stained windows in the higher parts of the hall. She unburied her head from her arms and panned her surroundings. It was dead silent, save for the birds singing away on the marble railings of the upper floor balconies.

Rich, golden rays from the sun surged [s]its way[/s] through the towering glass windows, casting the hall into an afternoon boulevard.

Dust particles soared and danced within the columns of light, fleeing as Melicia rolled her way through. Located at the back of the hall was a small room where the staff dressed in the appropriate garments for the daily mass. Melicia laid her hand on the rusted door knob. She gave it a turn, half expecting it to give her resistance.

A groan of the hinges welcomed Melicia in as she slowly drew the door open. Robes of all styles and colours [s]hanged[/s]hung on hooks and were tucked neatly on the shelves. Melicia’s gothic costume was stored in a plastic bag, which she got from shopping at Amazons. It was hidden in the corner of the room, safe from prying eyes.

Melicia locked the door behind her and grabbed the bag. She positioned in front of the mirror and undressed, exposing more of her fair white skin to the light. Standing in nothing but her panties and bra, she started to get dressed. Once she had finished tying her long dark hair into two pig[s]gy[/s] tails, she faced the mirror once more. She pulled on the ends of her skirt, straightening the creases in her black dress. She drove her hands into her pair of net gloves and peeled it back until it reached her elbows. Sitting down, she did the same for her stockings until her naked legs were covered in a network of black crisscrossing thread.

Last but not least, to finish her transformation, she reached into her pockets and clipped a skull pin on her hair.

“Oooo, looking cute Mel,” muttered Melicia under her sweet breath[s]e[/s], running her finger across her shiny, light pink lips. She turned her back to the mirror and cast her sparkling eyes on it. The temptation to perform poses like the models on the walk way had struck her, but she [s]did[/s]had made a promise to help Dad with the shopping.

She smiled deviously at her reflection and twisted her pony tail around her finger.

“Glad [s]that[/s] the holy water [s]hadn’t[/s]didn't ruin[s]ed [/s]my hair.”

She left the room and skipped for the exit, the spikes on the soles of her black boots making slight dents to the carpet. It was also the perfect opportunity for the lady to reveal herself from behind the pillars and confront the daughter of her debtor personally. Melicia stopped dead in her tracks, allowing her to become vulnerable once more to the nervousness that slowly swept [s]its way[/s] back in.

“What do you want?”

The lady smirked, removing her shades with her gloved hand and return[s]ed[/s]ing [s]it[/s]them into the depths of her dress.

“Comment tu t’appelles?” She advanced [s]her way up[/s], her eyes fixed on Melicia.

“Je m’appelle Melicia,” she replied with smug authority, followed with a cheeky smile [s]cheekily[/s] and a rushed curtsy to her opposition.

“Bien, bien. Mon premon est Madame O’Leary. Est-ce que tu aimes?”

Melicia’s eyes widened with rage for Madame O’Leary had already shown her true colours. Her words were executed precisely and swiftly, hell bent [s]i[/s]on sending Melicia into a sudden flood of emotions. She too walked forward[s]s[/s], initiating the start of the duel. Words raced through her mind, giving Melicia the responsibility to choose the right words to express her feelings she had with her dad. When she was in range with Madame O’Leary, she knew the simple and honest truth was the only thing she had.

“J'aime mon papa beaucoup!”

Her voice had stormed the church, powerful enough for the echoes to rivet [s]its way[/s] through every nook and cranny [s]and hence[/s], spreading the good word. The madam’s mouth flew wide open, revealing her stained teeth. In response to Mellicia’s rebellious act, she reached into her pockets, withdrawing an old but serviceable pistol and aimed it at Melicia.

“Hey no fair,” squealed Melicia, disgusted that the lady had to resort to using a gun, a weapon she had most detested, for it could easily provide the wielder an easy and cheap kill.

“So your Dad speaks the truth. You are very fluent in your French, even better than moi.”

“Pfffft.” She threw her right hand into a swing as though she was beckoning her defeated enemy to go away, “You know my Dad tells the truth.”

“He is nothing but another commoner that cheats his way through life. Not like you could comprehend how harsh the real world can be.”

“Then why not kill me now?” [s]Melicia was a valuable asset to the lady. She had merely asked the question to remind her that she was one of the sentinels to the family’s will. If Madame O’Leary had sent her into death prematurely, then it would have been a great liability to her.[/s]Melicia doesn't know that. You need to reveal that in dialogue, which you do in the next paragraph.

“Please Melicia. If I end your childish life now, then your entire family will be staring at me crouched in the corner of my urine soaked cell. They would bring nothing but humiliation and torment into my life. No…that’s not how I want it at all. After all, I won’t be able to claim my just reward.”

“But you still need to get past the other remaining sentinels of the family,” said Melicia, bringing reality and sense into the woman.

“In due time, should my band of lawyers allow it. But one thing…”(Merge)Madame O’Leary extended her free arm and pointed a crooked finger at the cross necklace hanging on her neck.(Merge) “You detest Catholicism yourself, yet you bear its mark. Ever wondered what it really means to be a gothic?”

“Aww come on granny, trying to tell me another cliché story of yours. Don’t you ever take in negative criticism?”

The lady placed her arm onto her hip and turned for the door.

“Heh. You’ll be receiving far worse over the scathe of your cuteness once you’ve faced the Denizens of the Church.”

Looking over her shoulder[s]s[/s], she blew Melicia a final kiss and slammed the door shut behind her. Melicia relaxed herself slightly, no longer threatened with the pistol. She raced the remaining distance to the door and tried to push the door open but it did not budge[s]d[/s]. She tried once more, channeling more strength into her arms only to be met with the same results.

As she attempted once more, a thought had came up.

“What are the Denizens of the Church?”

Eventually, the idea that she was now trapped inside the church had come to be.

A sudden uneasiness began to coarse throughout her body. The urge to make the first move surged its way up her arms.

But as Melicia gave a second thought to the situation, she realized that it would simply draw unwanted attention as well as another boring literature from her parents whom couldn’t even come up with a more original way to scold their kids. It would surely be the end of Melicia’s days of dressing up.

She couldn’t care less about the teachings of Christ let along grasped an understanding of Catholicism itself.

It was through here that was able to profess the slightest of her frustration.

As the candles on the altar burned ever shorter, the preaching became a rivet of words that channeled down the benches, acting as a spell to draw the unfaithful into a sleeplike state.
Darkness came and went as Melicia was nudged on the arm by her partner and cast back to life.