Mar 2014
"look at all the lonely people"
i waltzed into the desolate church on the corner of a street in a town i didn't know the name of. i've turned into one of those people who spends time in cathedrals on their days off in towns i've never heard of, due to loneliness, mostly. to my surprise, there was a young lady halfway sitting and halfway standing in a pew next to a stained glass window. her breathing was heavy, i could hear her across the room. she had a somewhat horrified expression on her face, which was pale and almost ghostly. she looked so dejected, it was absolutely heart-rendering. once i took a step towards her, the priest of the old church appeared and told her she had to leave her sad state and her pew next to the stained glass window. her melancholy expression remained as she walked slowly out of the church, letting the wooden door slam behind her, never once looking up at me or the priest. he took his place in the exact same spot this young girl was in, and began to write words in a small leather journal with a quill pen. i turned around and left, and decided to come back at the exact same time i did the next day, in hopes to relive the past few moments.
--
as promised, i promenaded down the center aisle of the pews in the church, the carpet crackling under my feet, due to old age, adding to the sense of eeriness that lurked through the establishment. the young girl was not there. i sat in the pew she sat in the day prior, in hopes of her walking in once more. i waited for hours, and she did not show. i faintly heard the sound of a violin just as the priest walked through a door near the altar. his hands were covered in dirt, and i was curious. i approached him.
"hello, father. might i ask why your hands are so *****?"
"ah. you're the man from yesterday." he said, a slight glimmer of fear in his eye.
"yes, that is correct."
"you seemed to be quite fascinated by miss eleanor." it's almost as if he knew how intrigued i was by her, although i didn't know her name until now.
"eleanor? the lass from the day prior?"
"indeed. well, it upsets me to break this news to you, but my hands are battered with dirt because i've just come back from burying miss rigby in the cemetery."
"you mean there was no formal ceremony to celebrate her life? what is the matter with you?! how did she die?"
the priest looked me dead in the eye, and spoke the chilling words in a completely monotone voice.
"she was one of the lonely people."
i waltzed into the desolate church on the corner of a street in a town i didn't know the name of. i've turned into one of those people who spends time in cathedrals on their days off in towns i've never heard of, due to loneliness, mostly. to my surprise, there was a young lady halfway sitting and halfway standing in a pew next to a stained glass window. her breathing was heavy, i could hear her across the room. she had a somewhat horrified expression on her face, which was pale and almost ghostly. she looked so dejected, it was absolutely heart-rendering. once i took a step towards her, the priest of the old church appeared and told her she had to leave her sad state and her pew next to the stained glass window. her melancholy expression remained as she walked slowly out of the church, letting the wooden door slam behind her, never once looking up at me or the priest. he took his place in the exact same spot this young girl was in, and began to write words in a small leather journal with a quill pen. i turned around and left, and decided to come back at the exact same time i did the next day, in hopes to relive the past few moments.
--
as promised, i promenaded down the center aisle of the pews in the church, the carpet crackling under my feet, due to old age, adding to the sense of eeriness that lurked through the establishment. the young girl was not there. i sat in the pew she sat in the day prior, in hopes of her walking in once more. i waited for hours, and she did not show. i faintly heard the sound of a violin just as the priest walked through a door near the altar. his hands were covered in dirt, and i was curious. i approached him.
"hello, father. might i ask why your hands are so *****?"
"ah. you're the man from yesterday." he said, a slight glimmer of fear in his eye.
"yes, that is correct."
"you seemed to be quite fascinated by miss eleanor." it's almost as if he knew how intrigued i was by her, although i didn't know her name until now.
"eleanor? the lass from the day prior?"
"indeed. well, it upsets me to break this news to you, but my hands are battered with dirt because i've just come back from burying miss rigby in the cemetery."
"you mean there was no formal ceremony to celebrate her life? what is the matter with you?! how did she die?"
the priest looked me dead in the eye, and spoke the chilling words in a completely monotone voice.
"she was one of the lonely people."
