There was something special about the way morning sunlight poured through the east window and golden rays illuminated the high altar. Trembling, John stood at the west door for as long as he could. He was unsure what he was experiencing, but that sensation… stirring… within him.
Quickly he forced a lid on the bubbling cauldron of his emotions. This was the best way, the only way, to survive. By refusing to acknowledge his feelings, and their perpetrators, he remained strong – strong enough to return here every day and wonder: not why, but when, when would this end and begin.
This one hundred word flash fiction story of mine has been inspired by my reading and enjoyment of the flash fiction stories posted on The Drabble.