Nothing sacred is safe,

he thought to himself,

smiling as

he moved

stealthily

through the

sanctuary.

The smell of fresh

fear he fancied as

he stalked his latest victim

through the halls of the Abbey.

Twelve-year-old Veronica had no idea...,

Monsters lurked in shadows.

As she made her way to the restroom

jovially rounding the final corner,

he moved in quickly,

stealthily placing the filthy rag laced with chloroform

over her mouth and nose,

stifling her screams to that of a whimper, then silence.

While

in the background can be heard

the congregation singing,

'Oh what a wonderful God is he.'

And as her body fell limp into his arms,

he scooped up his prize and nonchalantly carried her to his car.

She awoke, from her drug-induced sleep

disoriented and afraid,

chained to a rusty pad-eye

in the middle of a cold concrete floor,

with all of her clothes removed

and frightened,

she wanted badly to go home.

She screamed until her throat hurt,

but no one came.

God was on vacation.

Nothing sacred is safe he sang,

as he watched her silently satisfying

his voyeurism.

Nothing sacred is safe.

The door shot open, and he stood at the threshold silhouetted against the back-light, a frightening sight.

He was short and flabby with dark hair, and he stank,

that much she knew for sure.

he reeked of death, sweat, and alcohol.

He was completely naked and

covered in blood as he stepped through the door.

She screamed and cried,

yanked, and pulled on her restraints,

until chafed and bruised.

She appeared to him, a mouse caught in a trap.

He smiled as he collapsed on top of her,

her cries trapped forever in that cold, dark, dank, place,

music to his ears.

He grew weary of her by months end

and toyed with the thought of tasting her flesh.

His tongue clucked about

his palate in anticipation,

his arousal peaked.

What a pity,

what a shame,

so pretty, as he

made his first cut.

Nothing sacred is safe.

he sang,

as he tasted of her,

impeccant offerings.