THE SKY, CLOTTED WITH CLOUDS THE COLOR OF FRESH BRUISES, WEPT QUIET TEARS OF SYMPATHY WITH THE PARISHIONERS KNEELING IN THE HUSHED NAVE. THEY SUFFERED IN SILENCE, VAINLY TRYING AND FAILING TO IGNORE THE BLASPHEMY HANGING IN THE APSE. INFECTED SCARLET RIVULETS FLOWED UNCEASING FROM THE NAKED...