He traveled through air, drifting like rain as he sped towards the horizon.
quiet night, Jupiter's crossing. it's tiny satellites hangning upside-down in the sky.
He went to the edge of the earth, teetering on it's crevices to watch the sun as it raced to kiss the ground with its warmth.
Time had killed itself with bitter knives and all of a sudden he found himself floating through desolate space. Nervous saints hovered around him with their hands tied behind their backs.
"Dont' worry, my son, it's not the end of the world."
But he shivered in the empty cold and remembered when he was a boy and his mother had braided olive leaves into his long black hair and told him to be Holy.
He cried and his tears disappeared into space like light years. He told the saints he wanted to be crucified.
They looked at each other with too-wide eyes and whispered:
"I'm sorry, sir, but we are not noble enough for your cause."
He screamed, shaking the foundations of the planets and stopping the universe from it's usual rotation.
"I WILL NOT DIE HERE AS A GHOST, I DECLARE."
So the saints, with quivering hands, bound the man to a floating tree and tucked a leafy olive branch behind his ear. They slashed his chest to make the shape of a cross, the blood running down and dripping off to become tiny particles that expanded to make crimson stars.
The man sang, "hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah" and laughed until he exploded, the only thing left of him the crucifix star.