ANTICHRIST | phan ✔️

til death do us part

TRACK TWENTY SIX
"wonderland"
caravan palace

👼🏻

1989

the whole congregation was present once again; mrs hadley without her husband, dan's mother without affection and father lucian without remorse at the head of them all, only this time, there were no schoolchildren dressed in their virgin white school shirts and lined up obediently like little porcelain angels waiting for lies laced with hymns and bible quotes to be crammed into their heads until they were spilling over like a bathtub.

splash! splash! splash!

from the altar, father lucian addressed the congregation as he played his part of the holy man, free of sin, rosary beads in hand. as he stood up there with his voice filling the room and their heads, the priest felt as powerful as god. from the wide eyes staring up at him from the pews and bibles clutched to chests as if they were the answer, he felt their fear of god and of him and he fucking loved it.

"...give it back...please, i'll do anything j-just...you can hurt me again just give it b-back..."

he half-expected all those terrified eyes clinging to his every word to be bright, bright blue, and swung those rosary beads like a girl's silver crucifix.

"...well carmen, you only get it back if you beg for it...what's so special about it honey? it's just a necklace..."

yeah, he felt like a motherfucking god.

"...beg for it..."

the priest's sermon was suddenly and noisily interrupted by those heavy church doors being thrown open with a bang! that shocked a chorus of gasps from the congregation. the choir only continued to sing its song as phil lester stepped through and walked down the aisle, at which father lucian's jaw tightened like his grip on the rosary beads as he watch the boy with black hair that drip! drip! dripped déjà vu onto the stone church floor. phil walked straight towards the priest, the bloodied 666 on his forehead on show for all to see with his hair pushed back and his hands in his black trousers pockets giving him a calm, almost relaxed demeanour.

it was those telltale blue eyes that told a different story.

"...i want them dead ..."

told a story of princess, crowns, razor blades and two burning graves in the woods.

"...and i want to be the one to do it ..."

the church had grown as silent as a graveyard garden upon phil's entreated, so the thud! thud! thud! of his footsteps down the aisle echoed off of the church walls like the crack! of a whip in a little boy's bedroom back in '87.

"sorry to interrupt," phil spoke at last, his voice loud, steady and somewhat teasing as he crossed himself, "but i'm sure god will understand."

father lucian didn't say a thing, but lowered his eyes to give phil a switchblade sharp stare.

"the church doesn't want you here, boy," he growled from the altar, adjusting the rosary beads in his hand as if they were a weapon. "you're a sinner, and sinner don't belong in the house of god."