I really do enjoy writing these, but honestly, it’s even more fun dreaming them. 🙂 It’s like being the protagonist in a living story, which is really kind of how Webster’s Kiss was born.
I wandered through the hall, bewildered by my surroundings. My footsteps echoed loudly up to the high ceiling. Great arched doors at the end seemed to take forever to draw closer. Openings in the wall to my right revealed a staired slope leading down to a vast plush lawn. As I neared the doors, other people began arriving, so many that I had to make my way around them by the time I reached the end of the hall. I pushed the huge doors and walked through and found myself in a church. A few people were sparsely seated in the pews.
“Father God,” the priest’s voice rang out through the sanctuary. I was surprised the service was beginning with so many people still out in the hall. “Come join with us and be among us in these troubled times,” he began. I was accustomed to services being delivered from the pulpit, but this priest walked among the congregation as he prayed and he was headed straight toward me. Nervously, in Catholic habit, I quickly knelt, signed and took an empty seat at the end of the closest pew.
No sooner was I seated, than it seemed he was upon me. I looked up at him sheepishly. He was quite young for a priest and very handsome, with wavy brown hair and a short, neatly groomed, full mustache and beard. He was dressed in white under a green and gold robe, and a beautiful, jeweled crucifix hung from a gold chain around his neck. I wondered what kind of church this was, and if they allowed their priests to marry. There had been no dipping font when I entered.
“And you are?” He interrupted his prayer looking directly at me. I gulped. “Probably not on your list,” I answered in barely a whisper. Suddenly he did have a list. He flipped through several pages of old weathered parchment fastened together at the top, before stopping and running a finger across one page. He smiled. “Welcome to our church, Annie.” I was in shock. I was sure my name could not possibly be there. His eyes narrowed comedically. “You’ve got a little…” He gestured a waggling finger toward a blemish on my cheek just below my left eye. The list had vanished as magically as it had appeared. I conscientiously reached up to hide my cheek and I could feel a tiny scab under my fingertip.
The priest turned and continued in his prayer, talking about a young man named William Northcutt who was a member of their community and praying for guidance for the family in dealing with some terrible tragedy involving their son. I didn’t know the family he was talking about, but I could hear murmured reactions from many who did. I chose this moment to make an exit to use the restroom. I ducked quickly and quietly back out into the hall, empty now and echoing again with my footsteps. I turned around a corner and went through the first door on my right. I was wearing jeans and I was already unfastening them as I stepped through the door. For some reason, I took my pants all the way off and then completely undressed, only to find that I wasn’t in a bathroom at all. I pictured what someone’s reaction might be if they found I used it for one anyway and giggled to myself.
The room I was in was a sacristy with an office in it. A computer was turned on atop a desk to one side. I strolled around behind the desk running my fingers along its surface and sat in the little swivel chair behind it. It felt soft and plush under my naked butt. The computer was logged into the priest’s account in the church records, I navigated a couple of pages without really paying attention to what I was reading, before realizing that I was still naked and deciding that it was a bad place to be naked. I navigated back to the page the program was on when I found it and walked back to my heap of clothes to put them back on.
I was surprised to find the only underwear were a pair of large boxer shorts. The plain white panties I remembered taking off when I undressed were gone. I decided it would be better to put these on anyway rather than leave them there. They made my pants a very tight fit. I slipped my t-shirt back on bra-less, as that seemed to be gone as well, and tucked it in over the top of the ridiculous boxers. Talk about an embarrassing panty line! I was just buttoning my jeans again by the door when a tall, thin man with glasses in a plaid shirt opened it and stepped through, startled by my presence.
“Oh, excuse me,” I said. “Can you tell me where to find the Ladies room?” He opened the door again and pointed down the hallway. “It’s just up the hall to your right,” he said. I thanked him and walked out again, giggling to myself again about how fast I would be running if I had actually used the floor and the thin man was about to discover it. I waited for the man to close the door again, and turned back around, leaving the church the way I came in. The last thing I remember was skipping down the steps to the lawn below.
© 2010 Anne Schilde