I'll come back to all of this stuff one day.
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It Burns in Midnight
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A deep, low voice sung words about his god, swaying his hands to and thro in front of a large captivated audience. They all watched quietly in their wooden rows, some not moving a single muscle, others, praying for their loved ones and friends for health or fortune.
"Our lord works in many mysterious ways. Some, for good; others, quite the opposite." The preacher called through the masoned walls, in front of over two hundred people in wooden rows. "Whatever the outcome, it is probably for the best - even if it may be an emotionally terrifying experience that ends for the worse. But we must remember: with faith, our woes will be washed away, our pains be dampened, our lives ferried on to the future."
A few of the listeners started to weep as lost memories boiled, epiphanies striking. The preacher arched his neck forward, having shadows cast down upon his baldhead from the overhead glasswork by his pedestal, shadowing under his eyes with deep black rings. He raised his voice and spoke: "Though if your path lay uncertain. Without faith that you show to our mighty lord, there is no salvation. He shall cast you into that prison in which he calls madness, throw away that key, then burn you to cinders bit by bit, for eternity." He yelled out over echoing gothic hall. Many of the listeners cast brave faces, others shivered with the preachers words, drumming silently through their minds.

Bells rung out through the temple in a bellowing cluster across a valley thick with mossy stone and grass, surrounded by a wide range of mountains that lay guarded by thick pine trees. People spilled through thick doors, going back to their daily routine. As the halls cleared, the preacher walked down the aisles, farewelled and blessed few remaining people, then shut the door and locked himself in. Kneeling down in the ruddy candlelight and low ochre sunshine in front of a large ornate shrine rimmed with gold leaf - the one he conducted sermons so often in front of. He stared vacantly at its visage. He sighed in wonder, as he always did. Candle-wax dripped and soaked away around its curves, giving it a lively sheen of fleshy, red texture. Its piercing gaze gave a sense of benevolent oversight, or even deviance. The preacher slowly draped his hands over two overhanging tentacle appendages, and he sung in deep rhythmic hums with his throat. He broke free of hums, beginning to chant in pseudos words as it were, like gibberish.

Bits and pieces about his person disintegrated, revealing vacant darkness within its wake. As the preacher chanted, his heart raced, his eyes blurred when he tried to readjust his vision to his changing scenery. He loathed and longed almost every afternoon for this moment, however brief. Just to talk to him - or does gender mean nothing to It? He closed his eyes and exhaled a sharp cold breath. As he opened them, his scenery was transformed. He knelt deep in shining night; covinous howling whistled deep in his ears, emerald swirls paved twisting and exaggerated pillars and cones with undescriptive pictographs and hieroglyphics. Deep in a gaping bowl of stone within the domed centre of area the preacher currently occupied. All of what he saw is hard to describe, as edges of his conscious vision boiled, yet the imagination didn't help but fill in those macabre blanks.
Writhing, noodle-like appendages soaked most of the interior, wrapping around objects, constantly moving; jagged rings of bone spun from under multi orifices, giving off a dry grinding sound; mouths lined with black teeth gnashed and gnawed upon hapless victims, brought forth by its followers; upon a slime bathed network of stems connected to a vast sphere shaped eye of hexagonal chromatic plates in a semicircular recess within the middle of its form, it stared directly through him.
"I - I understand my lord. I live to serve." He stuttered, fearing rather than being calmed by its awesome presence. His mind simmered, sounds almost sounding like an electric hum, buzzed in his ears as he stared, unblinking. "Tonight - yes. It shall be done. Vatailzt shall be raised."
He gasped sharply as his vision burned in white-hot light; he flinched away with his eyes covered and slammed his back against a wooden bench. Slapping a pair of hands over dripping pupils, he stumbled awkwardly up onto his feet and sat on a bench.