Paco ran into the sanctuary. His purple feet smacked the stone floor as he went down the long aisle passing the wooden pews. He got to the votive candle rack. His fingers nervously lit a candle. He knelt near the front of the altar which was in front of the image of a holy Ethereal. The image was made of shiny metal. It was a male in a robe with outstretched wings. It was a magnificent piece carefully crafted by the finest local artist, fitting for any deity. Likewise, the sanctuary's nave was beautiful with its tall adorned columns and painted ceiling. None of that mattered to Paco at the moment. In fact, not even his clothes, or the lack of them.
On his knees he prayed and perspired. His sincerity and excruciating reverence was painfully obvious to any observer, but no one was there. Paco continued to fervently pray. His face was to the floor nearly touching it with his nose.
He felt something. A small breeze blew. It chilled his body. He stopped praying. Fear gripped him. He dared not move. Moments passed. Then he ventured to look up in front of him with the least movement as possible lest he would be noticed. He saw metallic feet and the fringes of a metallic robe.
If you wish to read the rest of this story, it is in the free ebook Mel's Shorts. Please read more about it at the Mel's Shorts page.