@freewritehouse March Madness Chapter 4 ”Sound”

Pixabay Image

I'm am taking part in March Madness by the @freewritehouse! This is the first attempt from me and I hope I can see it through! I will try. If you would like to play along please check out more here.

I will try to squeeze in a Nine Nobel Virtue post here and there but that might come first in April. These posts are taking about 2 hours at the moment (not editing) so time is very limited. Thanks for reading! I am open to constructive criticism.

Word count: 1,616

.........................................................................

Chapter 4
Sound

Walking down the hallway of the old Catholic school, Grant felt for a brief moment free. He had escaped his fifth-grade class because he needed a break from the intense concentration that was momentarily overwhelming him. He had lied to his teacher Miss. Lindsay and told her that he needed a bathroom break. In reality, he was taking a break from all of the people. It was not that he did not like all the children in class with him, he was actually quite fond of each one. They had grown up together in Saint Mary’s Catholic school. All 14 of them had been together since kindergarten. They had the first communion together, first reconciliation, and eventually, they would be confirmed together.

He just wanted a little time to himself.

Grant’s mother was not the most devout Catholic in the parish and this was evident given her ‘circumstances’ surrounding Grant#s birth. She and Grant were alone and even though it made other parishioners nervous, they were bound to accept them. Rebecca had made her confessions to the priest and she went through all the motions to ensure that Grant was baptized into the church.

She had even become somewhat of a regular at the Sunday masses and Grant was becoming a full-fledged altar boy. He had served as an altar boy for a few masses during the week and now he was going to start serving on Sundays too. This was a big deal for Grant and Rebecca was just as proud. Plus, now she actually had something to look forward to going to Sunday mass.

The brief moment of peacefulness that Grant was enjoying, strolling through the hallway, came to a screeching halt. Down at the end of the corridor, the parish office door was slowly creaking open. Grants heart sank. ‘Oh no, who could it be, please not him.’ Grant saw the bottom of Father Don’s black slacks and his shined dress shoe covered foot peak out from behind the door. The rest of his body soon followed and now Grant was walking straight towards him with no escape in sight.

Twenty-five meters separated the two, and Grant knew that he had to keep walking there was no turning back.

Father Don had been at the Parish for a few years now and it was a long enough time that it was hard for Grant to remember who the last Priest even was. The middle-aged priest had a stalky build and a 1950’s style crew cut that anyone could spot in a crowd. The priest had a strange fascination with groundhog’s day and even owned a groundhog puppet that he used to entertain the younger children. He was fear by all the children. As it is for most Priest in the Catholic Church, Father Don was respected by all and the Nuns saw to it that the children were well behaved for him.

It was seldom that anyone was ever alone with the priest and Grant had never had to be. Even with the altar boy duties that Grant held he always had another person with him, the deacon, a nun, or another altar boy. At least the nuns were always cruel and brutal so you grew to expect it from them, but to Grant the priest was a living god and it terrified him to the bone to see the man one on one like this.

For a brief moment, the room seemed to freeze. The hairs on the back of Grant’s neck were standing on end, his jaw was clenched, and he could feel his knuckles turning white with the amount of force he was using to hold his hands into two small fists. Then from deep down within himself, a voice told him to relax. “Do not fear him”, the voice said. Grant listened.

He began to relax and kind of laughed at himself. Why was he so terrified? He had no reason to be, and at that moment Grant realized that the Priest had no real power over him. Everything Grant had been taught, all of the church services, all of the bible studies, they were all centered around the Preist having the power to get him into heaven. But that did not matter to him anymore.

The Priest quietly passed Grant by. Perhaps he even noticed a change in him because all he offered was a softly spoken “Hello, Grant.” And that was it. No big deal. Grant made his way back to class and sat comfortably at his desk. He began to daydream. If the power the priest has over me is fake, what else is? Why do all these people blindly believe all of this god stuff anyways?

It never felt right to Grant. He always assumed it was because he did not have a father. Like he was out of place. Did this situation of feeling on the outside give him the ability to see the church for what it really was? These were are really deep thoughts for him. The encounter with the Preist had awoken something inside him and he was not sure exactly what it was.

Later that night while his mom was saying goodnight she began like she always did to say her prayers with Grant. It always started with a Hail Mary, then an Our Father, followed by God bless us, them, and everybody else. For the first time, Grant was listening to the sound of her voice. He was hearing what she was actually saying not just going along with it. How strange? He thought. It seemed so foreign, yet it was a part of his everyday life.

It was fall in the small town of Pine Grove and that meant the Saint Mary’s Parish grade school was preparing for the Christmas play. The Christmas play at the Catholic church was the main attraction to the parishioners. The Nuns that taught at the school put more importance in preparing the children for the play than they did preparing them for their studies.

Grant loved being in the plays. For him, this was a great time to slack off from learning and hang out with his friends. He also loved the whole process from trying out for a part (which he always landed the role of an extra), making the props, and rehearsing his lines instead of memorizing multiplication tables. In the weeks leading up to the play, most afternoons were completely utilized for play preparations only.

Oddly enough, the school play for this Christmas was Wizzard of Oz. Grant had been cast as an evil winged monkey and only had one line, but he did not care he was just excited to dress up as one of the cool characters in the play. Today, Grant and his fellow winged monkeys were now the ones working on the background for the wicked forest and they needed more black construction paper from the supply shed that was outside across the cemetery near the church.

Grant sprang to his feet to volunteer. Leave school during class time? That was an adventure that he could not pass up. Permission was granted by Sister Sue and Grant put on his hat and jacket and headed outside.

The giant steel door fire door slammed shut behind Grant and he stepped out onto the asphalt parking lot behind the school. The sound of the door seemed to trigger a heightened sense of awareness within him that was similar to the experience he had a few days ago in the hallway with the priest. Time seemed to slow. A raven cawed nearby and the sound of dried leaves plinking around on the parking lot was sharp in his mind.

He lifted a heavy foot and walked down the service road that ran along the church cemetery towards the supply shed. He had been plenty of times before. All of the parish actives required tables, chairs, etc they were all stored in the shed.

The sun was high in the sky and the fall wind rustled through the tall pine trees that landscaped the cemetery.

Grant could hear in the near distance that someone was in the graveyard. A familiar sound of scraping metal grinding against rough stone. Someone must be cleaning dirt away from a gravestone, Grant thought. Grant quickened his pace he was not in the mood to talk to the creepy caretaker, who would surely rebuke him for being outside of the school.

Out of the corner of his eye Grant glimpsed the shape of a man, he was dressed in grey and he was wearing a grey hat. The man was hunched down over a grave and Grant could see that he was moving his hands in a digging fashion.

As Grant looked at him the man stood up and turned around as if he knew from the start that Grant was there. The man had a long grey beard and white hair grew out from underneath his floppy grey hat.

“Where are you headed, boy?” The man asked.

“I have to get supplies from the shed” Grant replied.

“I am not talking about the shed son. Don’t you ever ask yourself why?”.

Grant was confused. He did not feel scared but he was definitely getting uncomfortable. “I’m sorry sir, I don’t know what you are talking about.”
As Grant walked passed him the man touched the brim of his hat and said: “Follow the stars.” Grant kept walking.

Once inside the shed, he was trembling. Now he was frightened and was having a hard time finding the supplies. When he finally found them he went outside and the man was gone.

Posted using Partiko iOS