Chapter Text
Tears streamed down the child’s face. The wetness dripped off his chin, falling onto the fabric of his clothes.
He frantically banged on the wooden door in front of him. Pleading, begging to be let free. The child’s hands burned and ached from the frantic assault to the door.
The confession room of the church was off to the side of the nave. A single door led to a sectioned off area, one side for the priest, and the other for the confessor.
Normally, the common interior design of the ancient kingdom was sliding doors. For privacy during sacred confessions, the confession room door did not slide.
It locked.
The boy was trapped in the quaint church in the middle of the rural kingdom. Only a few neighboring villages practiced there, as it was placed strategically nearby for the rural population.
The child’s screams fell onto deaf ears. For some reason, not a soul heard the pounding of the door.
A larger hand fisted a handful of the boy’s short, spikey hair. He growled, attempting to sound threatening as he flailed around to ward off the hand. His throat felt torn apart from the rawness of screaming.
The hand yanked the boy away from the door easily due to his frail size. The hand, which belonged to a man, tossed the sobbing child to the other end of the room.
‘“How dare you disobey the Church!?”
A man stood wildly over the child. His booming voice bounced off the walls, making him cover his sensitive ears.
“You continue to act like those brazen wolves, you are not an animal!”
The boy whined and curled himself into a ball on the ground. His instincts begged him to fight back, but his body disagreed.
He continued cowering away from the man, pressing himself into the cold wall behind him.
The man’s black cassock swayed with anger. The priest paced crazily around the small room. His fists were clenched, turning his dark knuckles white. The man hurled his words so loud spit flew out of his mouth.
He was red in the face, and his eyes bulged with anger.
“If you were meant to be an animal,” He stopped pacing, clasping his hands together in a praying motion. “The Almighty would have created you, placed you into Their world as such.”
The holy man stopped to pray, holding his hands up towards the sky.
“But, no.” Spit flew onto the child, who whined.
“You are a human! How many times must I remind you of this!?”
He stopped to stare at the child. His nose crinkled with utter disgust as he watched him cry on the ground, snot dripping from his nose.
“You make me utterly sick!”
The hurled insults bounced off of the boy. He didn’t understand English, and he barely understood the kingdom’s native language, Korean. But the savage tone was enough for the child to know he was angry.
Not receiving an answer, the priest’s disgust turned to fury. He reeled back his hand. The child gasped sharply as he attempted to scramble away from the oncoming attack.
Violence was the only language the boy understood exceptionally well.
The man swung his hand towards the child at full force, hitting him harshly in the face.
“Why do you refuse to speak?!”
Slap.
“The Witches so dutifully created a voice for you!”
Slap.
“By the Gods, use it!”
The boy choked on his tears. He pitifully attempted to reel himself away. Using his shaky voice, he begged for the man to stop with the few words he knew.
“Geuman haseyo! Geu—Geuman haseyo!”
He sobbed, wiping his tears and his snotty nose.
“Jebal!”
“I do not care for your pleas! You are filth in Their holy world!”
Erratic fists continued to fly. The child did his best to block his face, forcing his arms and torso to bear most of the beating.
Fear and anger fueled his tears, he could never understand the man.
The small church only contained the priest, and three, very faithful, sisters. They found the boy, and a pack of wolves, left unprotected in a dangerous blizzard one day. After searching for the child’s family nearby, they decided to shelter him.
The women of faith had no problem letting the boy leave the building for most of the day. The small boy wandered the snowy mountains and forests with his wolf pack, some days only returning to the church at sunset.
While the familial relationship with the wild animals was odd to the sisters, they found it endearing. Somedays, they were able to see the boy tumble around with the pack. His smiles and giggles were contagious.
Giving the boy the freedom to roam as he desired, they also carved out time to teach him. They worked tirelessly to educate the wildly-raised child.
Extremely fidgety, it was difficult to have Crunchy Chip, the name they gave the child, sit still. Because of this, they struggled to teach him out of his primal habits.
On the contrary, the priest believed Crunchy Chip came directly from Hell.
Bearing sins from the devil so sadistic they dressed themselves as animals; wolves in sheep's clothing. Believing this “demon” was thrust upon him so he could fulfill his duty of ordainment.
It was his sacred goal to cast away whatever grip the evil realm had on the child. Casting away that devil proved difficult.
If it even had one.
Crunchy Chip didn’t think hitting and yelling was a part of growing up like a normal boy. He wished the sisters could hear him, they would come help him.
They were never around when the priest got angry.
“May the Witches know, hear my prayers, and be smiling down at me knowing that I am doing right!”
The man huffed, out of breath, as he fell to his knees. He again clasped his hands together in prayer.
“I am leading this poor, lost lamb away from those evil animals!” The priest spoke blissfully, as if he was drunk on the Holy Spirit, with his head tilted to the sky. His hands were irritated from his viscous attack.
“Soon, he will learn, and with your patience, Almighty, he will be reborn into a fine child! A fine follower of your teachings! A—”
The slurred prayer began to dull in Crunchy Chip’s ears as a ringing grew louder. A wild glow caught the boy’s attention, making him turn towards it.
Out of seemingly nowhere, a blazing fire fought its way into the small confession room.
Its flames wildly consumed the room in one, feverish gulp, making Crunchy Chip panically scream. He tried to force himself off of the ground, but with his body in throbbing pain, he struggled.
After falling multiple times, he shakily made his way onto his feet. Holding onto a warm wall, his slitted pupils went wide at the inhumane scene.
The priest, who Crunchy Chip thought was still in prayer, was consumed by the flames in mere seconds.
His body lay motionless. A blackish scabbing eroded on his skin. Red rawness outlined the black burns with white bone sticking out due to the lack of skin covering. His eyes were still wide, and his mouth was open wider.
Crunchy Chip could have sworn that he saw his eyes still moving.
He covered his nose. A burning smell of flesh filled the air that made Crunchy Chip gag. With no clue what was happening to the priest, the boy wobbly ran towards the door. It was unlocked.
Within seconds, his view was obscured by the extravagant fire. The nave of the church was covered in flames.
Melted candles were knocked over and books of scripture were lit ablaze. Wooden pews, with a few occupants, were being burnt. Their bodies all looked the same as the priest’s. Black burns with red outlines etched around their visible bones.
Crunchy Chip tried to remember if the sisters ever taught him about what happens to people in a fire.
All he could recall was them urging him to run if he ever saw one.
Instead of listening to his teachings, Crunchy Chip took the time to stare at one person on the ground. The boy was seemingly unbothered by the massive flames surrounding him as he wondered if the unmoving body was going to get up and run like he was.
The person he was staring at was surrounded by two other people.
All three of these mystery people, since it was difficult for Crunchy Chip to know who he was looking at, wore the same attire with headcoverings. He noticed the patterns on their clothing were the same patterns on the sisters’ robes.
Thinking, the child tried to recall the regular church goers that he knew well. His mind felt oddly blank.
Howling from behind made Crunchy Chip gasp, swiveling around, stumbling on his feet. His face lit up seeing a pack of wolves behind him.
“Chingu?” He squinted his eyes to make sure the wolves waiting for him were truly his friends. His voice was meek, strained from crying.
The large pack of black and white Cream wolves howled again, egging Crunchy Chip closer. He laughed giddily as he ran towards his true family. His beaten and burned arms were stretched out in front of him, running for an embrace.
The pack began running towards the exit of the church much faster than Crunchy Chip, making the little boy determined to go faster.
Getting outside of the church, he looked all around for his pack. Crunchy Chip felt his smile drop. The cold wind cut through his tiny bones, making him shiver. His bare feet crunched in the fluffy snow as he searched for paw prints that weren’t there.
Where did his pack go?
“Chi…?” He frantically searched for them. Only finding his cold breath in the air.
“Chingu? Chingu!?”
Turning around, he stopped to gawk at the magnificent sight of the small rural church burning.
Wood was so weakened it was falling to the ground like fluffy snow pushed off of a hill. What was once beautiful stained glass was now melted explosions of color decorating the violent scene. Wonder filled Crunchy Chip’s eyes as the out-of-control flames engulfed the entire building, with no signs of stopping.
Rubbing his teary eyes, the boy suddenly felt objects in his hands. He tilted his head, confused.
He didn’t recall holding anything.
His watery eyes fell onto his hands.
In one hand, he held two pieces of a broken crucifix. The beads poured out of the broken string, leaving a pile at his feet. The cross was snapped in two.
In the other, he held a newly opened, tiny box. Inside the box was matches.
Only one match was missing.
Crunchy Chip awoke in a cold sweat, gasping loudly as he sat up. His crazed heartbeat couldn’t keep up with his racing thoughts. He wiped the sweat building on his eyebrows with violently, shaking hands.