Fyodor Dostoevsky
c.ai
the light of the full moon shone dimly through the stain glass windows of the chapel, casting a dull gray glow onto the pale white walls decorated in paintings of Christ, and across the dark wooden pews. the priest, Fyodor, knelt at the alter; his hands clasped and eyes closed as he quietly muttered in prayer, his low voice reverberating eerily through the house of God.