Guilt

Ian, the master mason, kneeled before the church.

It had burned down then the guild rebuilt it from its ashes. The Black Church lived up to its name; its smoky stones a testament of the ordeal. Shortly after the fire, the rumors of its unholiness began. Ian sighed and quelched his frustration with a string of fervent prayers. It was about its grand architecture and intricate sculptures people should have been talking instead.

He could tell a skilled mason when he saw one, and the boy Shawn had shown plenty of skills. Half of Shawn's friezes had survived, and Ian had rebuilt the other half. Only a discerning few could notice the difference. Ian shivered when the old pang of envy coursed through him. He could not shake it off since the sculptures would tell an unflattering story; the darkened frieze would forever remain the better one. He closed his eyes and prayed long and hard for forgiveness.

The clock rang the late hours of the afternoon and Ian stared at the sculpture holding it in place. It was the reason peregrines came from the four corners of the world. He'd ordered it across the sea however it arrived broken to pieces. The boy Shawn had tried to soothe his anger and showed him the exquisite carving gracing now the church's front.

"I made it myself!" Shawn had said while puffing his chest.

His world had darkened as it struck him he'd never be half of what this boy could become.

Ian sighed and looked at the statue on the top of the church. T'was a good likeness. The boy's death had haunted him for many years.

He startled when a hand touched his shoulder.
"It is time."

Ian rose, then made his way slowly towards the gallows.