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was afraid the shadows themselves would collapse on him at any moment, wrapping their long, blurry

tentacles around his body.

               "Forgive me, God! I didn't want to run him out of business! I just wanted to give people

something to tide them over until they die. You understand! Look how many are coming to church

now. And the old ones, they have faith like never before. Please, God, just make it a lousy

department store. I'll go back to the old holidays. The fun and games, it'll all stop. No more Open

Bar Bingo, I promise. No more Thursday night Dark Agestournaments (you know, that fast paced

board game where participants use torture, imprisonment, and execution to beat the fear of God into

the inhabitants of their territories, while using slave labor to build sanctuaries and cathedrals. But

watch out! Be careful you don't land on an opponent's space or you'll be tithed! Also comes with

Acts of God and Penance cards. Will yoube the player with the least number of black marks on your
 

soul? Or will you end up burning in the fiery pits of hell?

Go directly to hell. Do not pass Go. Do

not collect 200 God Bucks.)Oh God! It will all stop! I promise!"

               Father Feinstein made the sign of the cross and jumped into bed. He lay there, shivering,

staring at the ceiling. The black flames danced above him. He hid himself under his blankets.

               The ceiling creaked. It was suspended above Father Feinstein by four measly walls. He prayed

it didn't fall. He hoped someone was listening.

               Someone had to be listening. Otherwise-- would it hold? Would he be safe from the

shadows?

               "There has to be more than brick and steel," Father Feinstein whispered. "There has to be."

               The priest fell asleep, his soul momentarily at ease before the nightmares came. He was not

crushed by the ceiling that night. The brick and steel had all the strength he was hoping for. They

required no help from a bearded man, no ghosts or goblins, and not one shred of a priest's consent.

               "Father! Father! Wake up! Have you seen it?"Sister Susie's voice scratched across Father

Feinstein's raw, sleeping brain. It wasn't until the words "wake up" that he realized he wasn't

listening to a pair of Siamese twin Siamese cats getting popped underneath the wheels of a station