Today’s genre: Historical/Comedy
Words: 429
It was customary to attend the chapel service every Sunday, a rule for the whole town. Those that didn’t were looked down on as heathens, even if they still believed in the word of God and those who went were admired, even if they didn’t believe in God. Like me. I’d never say, though, oh no, not if I didn’t want a beating. Only you and I know that little secret.
I have no idea what the old man who’s enthusiastically waving his arms about and shouting was moaning about, but he’s clearly very passionate about it. The man in question is the current reigning priest (is ‘reigning’ the right word? ‘Appointed’, maybe) who is ranting about something to do with Hell and eternal damnation. This is why I switch off.
My boredom or lack of enthusiasm must have been evident to my mother because as of late, she’s brought with her a book for me to read and half a loaf of bread in case I got hungry. She’d never admit to herself that I just didn’t care about chapel, just that I was confused or going through a weird phase. I know a family a few doors down whose daughter stopped attending church – since then, everyone has avoided the house as if it carried a horrific smell.
The priest paused and I took my chance, fishing the bit of bread from my mother’s bag and taking a small secret bite from it. It wasn’t as soft as it usually was, so a few crumbs fell onto my lap as I took my crisp – and very loud – bite. Everyone stared. I looked accusingly at my mother as if she made the bread crunchy on purpose, she looked back as if we weren’t related and shuffled uncomfortably in her seat. Tilting my head up a little, I smiled apologetically at the priest and bowed my head slightly.
As we broke eye contact, I could have sworn I saw him write something down...maybe his list of people who he would ask God to send to Hell. Could priests do that? Even if he wasn’t allowed to, would he? Would that mean that the priest would also go to Hell for sending me to Hell?
“...Silence!”
I involuntarily screamed a little, immediately excusing my mouth with both hands as the priest, mouth still open, said: “I repeat,” he looked at me, “’God shall come manifestly: our God shall come, and shall not keep silence. A fire shall burn before him: and a mighty tempest shall be round about him.’”
Oh God...
No comments:
Post a Comment