La Gnat
(?)Community Member
- Posted: Tue, 15 Nov 2011 21:10:27 +0000
{ Soundtrack to the story }
The Clan
A song for Sofia
Babylon's Theme
Father Holden
Bartholomew's Theme
Elizabeth Mary
Seeing Sofia in the Steeple
The Fallen
Theme No. 1
>>
There were twelve gourds placed against the edge of the porch, just slightly touched by the chubby snowflakes that had begun to fall. It wasn’t often that winter came so soon in Missouri, but the autumn had held a chill and sogginess that couldn’t be shaken. Tomorrow, there might even be an inch of white crusted around the town. But Elizabeth would never know; for today, her father planned on killing her.
She shuffled past the nubby edges of the kitschy decorations, letting her feet drag down the steps. Ahead was her mother, shivering with the minivan door propped open. An immobilized breath hung in front of her gently sloped mouth—the same mouth that had pecked her forehead the night before and had thanked her for saving them all. That had been after their last supper together, when the discussion had turned to which method would she would want for her sacrifice. She had chosen poison—for it sounded the most romantic and would leave her looking like herself after it was all over. Now they just all sounded horrible and painful and long. Elizabeth coughed away the tightness that was swelling upon her chest—maybe she could just run, turn back before they got to the church and go somewhere else.
Anywhere else.
“Come on dearest, we better get going.” She glanced up at her mother as she spoke.
Too late to run now.
>>
The Holy Crossings Church was located across the street from an old railroad cart, rusted and fallen half back into the earth. Back in the earlier days, when the town was filled with every type of festering heathen as her father had described, there had been a bustling train station, which ran to all the cities. Now the tracks were overrun with thick bushels of weeds and didn’t go anywhere.
Elizabeth had been ushered inside, her white gown smoothed away from her hips to create a less sexualized appearance. After all their plucking and adjusting of the dress on the mannequin, they still couldn’t quite hide the womanly figure that the girl had managed to obtain over her nineteen years of life. Not that it would matter any more; she wouldn’t be seducing anyone in the grave. Down the aisle was her father, a heavy bible in one hand and a Styrofoam cup in the other. He smiled, waving her over like he had done in all the sermons before he did his preaching’s. Some of the parishioners were there; filed into the pews, thick wooden crosses dangling from their necks. They were all waiting, anxious for a show. She could even see it in her mother’s eyes as she prodded her down the aisle, her hand clipping against the enclosing aisles. A tremor ran past her shoulder, making her rhythmic heart beat bounce in her ears.
And then, they stopped. Between the two of them, her father looked, smirking in all of his wisdom. He had created a truly wonderful sacrifice and had kept the girl clean in virtue for so many years. Now, all the diligent work was about to save them. Father Holden bowed his head, his brow grazing upon the book he feverishly held.
“And here we gather today to witness a truly divine miracle. Elizabeth Mary Holden, my blessed child, in your earthly parting you will bring us peace and protection from the dawning evil. For that, we thank you, now step forward my daughter.”