I stood outside the small church. At the back of the crowd. Today there was a baptism, or something like this, so the building was filled beyond capacity.
I did not mind, it only added to my animosity. And, my purposes for standing there, would only come to fruition once the crowd had left.
I heard the priest bless bread and wine and thank the lord for giving them the ability to cultivate it and reap what they, themselves have sown. I would have laughed if it wasn't so sad.
All these people prayed to a god to fix problems that they themselves could solve with very little effort. Yet still, they wish for a miracle.
As I reflected on this little hierocracy. The mass was ended and the priest dismissed the crowd "in peace"; a peace that would be very easily broken and soon.
They all filed out of the doors and into waiting cars that would take them to far more enjoyable things now that their weekly job was finished.
As they walked out of the yard, they were forced to walk past me. Making me something to be stared at. Yet, I was not.
They merely thought I was a child who had been allowed to dress up for church, if only to keep me quite.
But wait; I was wrong. One living being did stare. A girl, possibly six years old. She continued to stare at me as she went past. But, there was no fear in her eyes, only curiosity.
Soon, the church and yard was emptied. With a purpose I walked into the church and strode to the door that would take me into the hospital.
This was my real purpose for coming on this day. No-one would let me through the main doors on my own. I am just a child in their eyes.
I had nearly reached the door when I heard a crash to my left. I turned with my hand on the revolver.
It was the priest. He had seen me, and in the shock of it dropped what would appear to be very important religious items. He was no threat and I turned back to the door.
Yet before I could put my hand on the knob a voice cred out. Wary as it was strong.
"Are you a man or ghost boy?" The priest asked.
I turned back to him to stare him straight in the eyes. And, even despite the distance that separated us, he could not help but shiver.
"I am what I am and need to be. Nothing more, nothing less." I replied, and with those words I turned, opened the door and stepped into the hospital.
I would like to note what the boy wears in order to remove any confusion as to the priests actions.
The boy wears a cowboy outfit all in black. And I do not mean the cheesy ones you see in stores, this is the same as what they would have worn over a century ago. This means
-A large wide brim hat
-Collared shirt with long sleaves, buttonable cuffs
-Cloak with small string to hold together. No hood
-Long legged pants. Slightly tight but loose enough to allow for movement.
-Boots. High ankled and sturdy.
Bandanna. This he uses to cover his face and hence his identity.
All pieces of this boys costume are black and he carries a revolver a Glock 9mm as a back up. There is also a knife hidden somewhere on his person for good measure.