I had a dream where I found a four-leaf clover. (All of the other clovers are really missing their fourth leaf.)
I am in the House (it is not my Home, of course) alone and am allowed to walk to Church by myself. I am normally not allowed to, you see, because the Lady and her Husband want for me to go to a different Church with them. 'We're a family,' the Lady's Husband moralised, as though I did not know nor care what a family was, as though I did not know nor care what morals were. 'We go to church as a family.' I held my tongue (it hurt) because the words I wanted to say would drive knives into the chests of my real brothers and sisters (and myself), spilling blood which is not our own. (Not Mama and Papa, though, as they have no bodies here.) If Elisa can hold her tongue, I can, too; I pretended to have learnt a lesson about the importance of family, trying my best to conceal my resentment.
I much prefer the stained-glass windows and hymns to the featurelessness and the Christian rock songs. I much prefer walking (even though it's hot enough that I could catch an illness which the Lady will not believe I have, disregarding that I've never pretended to be ill) to sitting in that dangerous contraption which was only invented a hundred years ago. I much prefer sitting beside the cool wood and nothing else, alone and not alone, to sitting beside the wicked stepparents who neither know they are stepparents (or, rather, that they are the victims of a Changeling Tale) nor that they appear wicked because they could never replace Mama and Papa (wicked stepparents are such poor souls). Rather than hearing the Lady mispronounce 'Amen' in a feigned southern accent in reply to the most obvious of morals pointed out by the kind but loud-voiced Pastor, I much prefer the quiet understanding in that Church I can walk to. (I'm sorry.)
Even though I am more red than blue now,--though I am really white with patches of purple (as I've always been)--I still treasure the Quiet.
Photo can be found here.
This story (as I presume it is) has such understated beauty. Walking to church by one's self sounds so perfect. I wish I could, but my church is almost half an hour away. I'd have to start out really early in the day, hehe.
ReplyDelete"I much prefer the stained-glass windows and hymns to the featurelessness and the Christian rock songs."
I love that. That's exactly how I am when it comes to church music. I'm an old soul. :)
Oh, I'm sorry I can't understand dear.
ReplyDeleteIs this fiction?
Your writings are really beautiful. This is sad, but still beautiful.
To both of you: Thank you so much for always writing kind words for me! <3
ReplyDeleteMelee: Walking to church alone is so lovely and calming. Oh, and yay for being old souls! I always get comments to the effect of, 'You're the youngest person I know who likes ______...'
Haze: It would be terribly hard to believe if I said it was true, wouldn't it? With most of my writing, I let the reader decide whether it's true, fictional, or metaphorical--so my writing is probably hard to understand at times; I'm sorry about that. I will say, though, that there is at least a little truth in this.
I could really relate to the narrator's thoughts & feelings... loving the quiet, the atmosphere of a certain church and not really liking the loud rock music of others. "Featurelessness"~perfect description. This conjured up a lot of feelings in me.
ReplyDeleteGreat read!
Thank you!
ReplyDelete