The Priest bolted out of the confessional as a gunshot rang out through the hushed church, breaking the hushed silence of awe and reverence. Two elderly penitents, clutching their rosaries looked up in shocked bumusement.

"Everybody get out of here, there is a madman in my church with a gun!" shouted the priest.

The bullet richocheted on the woodwork. The priest felt a sharp stab of pain in his left hand as a metal shard hit it. As the preist and the two old penitents fled the church a second shot was fired and the madman left the confessional, with smoke rising from his weapon. A trail of blood from the preist's wound marked the way to the exit.

"How apt. After all these people believe blood should be spilled for the forgiveness of sins!" thought the madman.

The evacuated church was once again silent, apart from the sound of the rusty heater. The candles flickered.

The madman turned to the alter and gave a mock genuflection to the gaudy statue of the infant Jesus before he left.

"Adore me, I am the resurection!"

He had many more people to educate and instruct, many more souls to save. But right now, he had a train to catch.

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