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'But I have been taught to respect you.' 'And do,' I replied. 'Respect those around you. You will realise the power of it when you least expect it.' He nodded and ran away into the distance. My tears had stopped by the time I lost sight of the boy. I felt somewhat better now that I had done something good for a change. However there was still the little voice in the back of my head which kept on churning the events with Bartholomew. I looked up at the temple. It had gotten darker - people had left. I began to head towards it, hoping that it was safe to enter. I needed to talk to someone - not a priest, but a guide. A heavenly guide. I managed to miss two preachers who happened to be exiting. I quickly ran inside the door and began to navigate my way to the main praying area in the shadows. It was quite dark except for a few candles that illuminated many benches situated around a central shrine. It had actually been a long time since I had entered this part of the temple - maybe a couple of
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years. And I had truly forgotten what the statue looked like even though when I was a child, I had admired it continuously. Being as quiet as possible, trying not to attract any attention to myself, I picked up a candle and began to wade through the wooden benches towards the shrine. The smell of lavender filled my nostrils and I began to relax. I laid my hand on one of the front row benches and felt something wet. I drew the candle near it and investigated. It was red and drips of it circled the shrine. I smelt it but there was no need - I already knew what it was. Blood. I looked around for the source but couldn't find any. I began to feel uneasy. I drew to the front of the shrine and stood back, amazed. I was looking at myself - the shrine had my face. It was me. I took a few moments to accept what I was looking at. What people had been worshipping. There were mixed feelings - I didn't know what to say or do. As I began to look up, I saw a drop of blood rolling down the statue's cheek: my cheek. I
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