A wretched crimson gash streaked across the sky as far as was visible to me. It was rich enough in color that I traced visions in its hues. I saw the crucifix, long and tall and fed into a wood chipper. The shards spewed forth, filling an endless walkway dug out of a golden floor. I saw the Nazarene tugging at the hem of the Patriarch’s cloak, pleading liberation over reprisal. I saw the First One swat his child away. And I followed the sneer to his eyes and out into the distance. Judas Iscariot, trembling and filled with terror took step after step along the infinite thoroughfare – each contact with the fractured pieces cutting fresh openings into his flesh. I saw his feet shredded to blood and pulp. I saw him drag on and drop fleshy chunks and drip puddles and I realized in horror the veritable origin of that crimson streak.
I turned to my compatriot: “Watchu reckon that means?”
And in turn she produced a silver coin from her pocket, tossing it skyward. “Heads or tails?”
Inchoate 