The sun splintered off the interior cathedral windows, a sight Bridget had never seen before since light had never been allowed in the immense building. The ruin of the building still maintained the high arches, but instead of spider webs interconnecting the intricate mouldings they now served as a trellis for kudzu and morning glories. A diverted creek spilled through the roof purifying St. George’s sword in the small vestibule where he stood guard. The cathedral, free of dragons, was now home to other flora and fauna.
The earthquake decades ago had shifted this small piece of land so that it was no longer useable. Bridget never liked cathedral for its original purpose, but now with it opened – with nature and light an integral part of its architecture she wanted to keep it exactly as it was. A pagan monument – a fitting reminder that the human species may leave a mark, but the earth would eventually erase it.
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