Chemical Baptism One: Cult of Pebbles

We are the pebbles this church is built from, ground into dust, bonded by blood and baptism. And when all our belief blends together, and we play in a mirage of truth, we make impossible things, both horrific and miraculous, real.

A body of people gather in a gravel lot. Its blue hour, and the abandoned oil refinery in the background just barely shows through the engulfing overgrowth. The lot forms a sort of stage, the oil refinery mimics a cathedral and the people in frame perform a baptism. The woman being baptized hovers over the gravel peacefully holding a cross at her chest, as the glowing liquid pours from a bottle. Onlookers record the scene or are distracted on their phones, while an older man sitting a distance away peers onto the scene while lighting a cigarette.