On this particular day the sun was cloaked with a bleak shroud of black and gray clouds, pouring down cold drops of seething rain that held the sole purpose of concealing tears. The clouds rolled over each other with a sense of pace that seemed as though they were afraid to be there - over this torn and sad town. Just outside of this small haven sat its pinnacle, the seed of it's horror and bitter cheerlessness. Just outside of the town sat the towns epic and bloodcurdling church. The small drive way of rocks and shattered pieces of concrete was greeted by a sign that once read: Fillmore Missouri First Catholic Church. But from the aging and years of torment it now read: Feel More Misery First Catholic Church, with the towns name crossed out with a crude red paint streak. The church was immense and it looked as though it had sprang from hell itself from the up growing of the ground around its base. The ground seemed to curve to its position. These walls were colored a gray that nearly matched the sky but had the absence of movement; of life. Vines stretched up the sides, some nearly reaching the tiled roof while others pinched against the window pains with clover and crimson etched into them. Dead trees filled the plantation, each with its own unique vibe of dreariness, each expelling its own version of pity upon the town and its church. The two large wooden doors that led to the entrance were scarred with scratches of tyranny and holes of old nails. Through these holes light passed through from within.
Despite the storm and the thundering bursts of light two men were running towards the church. Both were tall and lanky men wearing a pitch black cloak or sheet that went from their necks to their feet, completely concealing them. The hood stretched over their heads and ended with a slight point at the top. Covering their faces were pitch white masks of the Halloween type. They both resembled skeletons without the complete attention to bone. Instead they displayed horror. The mouths were dropped low expressing a scream and the eyes were sagging to the left and right, showing complete sorrow. Their appearance in the night was bizarre, but their cause was one of most certainty, or so they thought.
Once they reached the doors they both arithmetically pounded on it. The noise echoed through out the entire church like a huge orchestra was within its walls, welcoming the two masked men. Minutes later one of the huge wooden doors opened slightly and the pale face of a man was greeted by the even paler masks. He just looked at them for a second or two, not surprised nor scared and it also did not give off a sense that he knew them, but that he knew of them. He opened the door wider and the two men walked inside. Once they were all inside he shut the door behind them and leaned against it, his back feeling the icy coldness of the wood. One of the masked men spoke.
The mask barely moved from his lips moving, he almost couldn't tell which one had said it. Matt nodded his head and then out stretched his arm, as though telling them to have a seat among the vast rows of rotten, wooden seats. They turned and did so, near the front. They sat and placed their hands in their laps and watched as Matt walked upon the stage and stood behind his alter. Their lifeless masks moved to his motion. And as Matt reached the alter, the same masked man spoke.
"You know of our arrival so therefore you understand our intentions. Correct, Priest?" Matt nodded and then looked upon his alter as he spoke, his voice quiet and mysterious, but orderly and smooth.
"As this towns new priest I think we can both agree upon my importance, you won't need to explain-" He was interrupted by the other masked man, who had a slightly sharper and meaningful tone. "But we will. You needn't go against our judgement of you, and we know nothing of you, yet, so therefore we'll explain, and explain carefully." He stood from his seat and took a few steps forward. His mask now had light from the candles on it and it gave it a bloody appearance as he spoke. "Our intentions here in Fillmore are in deep secret, hardly any civilians know of our existence and even fewer have seen us. Over the past few years fifty-three people have been killed by means not of accidental origin." He turned around and glanced at the other masked man and was answered with a nod. He turned back and continued. "Forty of these young people committed suicide by means of rope, one by knife. The other thirteen was a small group of high school students whom organized a cult, and orderly killed each other un till the final one, a nineteen year old, stabbed himself in the throat. Because of these happenings we've organized ourselves to seek out and eliminate any acts of Satanism, which was the source of these deaths. Do you understand?" Matt glanced upon the two, he didn't know of this towns haunting history but he knew it was something he would have to learn and investigate, he was, of course, the towns last source of savior.
The seated masked man then pulled from within his cloak a small packet. It was pitch red and had black writing on its cover. He handed it to the standing masked man who then proceeded to walk up on the stage towards Matt. When he reached him he spoke low and nearly a whisper.
"This packet is a list of all Satanic items that have been banned from our town. Inside you will find songs and books and people and buildings and even food. Keep these far away from your sacred ground."
Matt nodded. The two men turned and walked out of the church leaving Matt standing there with the red book in his hand and the echo of the slammed door.