The fleshy colored dust cloud settled past the still warm motorcycle that lay on its side. A single lined tire track turned into a two tired skid mark as it violently twisted into the gravel "parking lot" of a little white church. This little white church stood alone, its steeple the only obstruction along the glowing horizon. Its faded stained glass windows, outlined by bright red frames, set into chipped, white siding. The dark, mahogany, doors came back to a close as a stranger entered the church.
The hooded stranger kept a gloved hand upon the closing door, gently guiding it back to its original resting place, as if not to disturb the permanent silence that has made its life in the building. They stood there for a minute before making any move. They had entered upon a lonely place, not visited by anyone, not a worshiper, lost soul, or even a runaway, for a long time. One room, adorned with simple carvings up in the corners near the ceiling. The angels' wooden faces overrun by the small clippings that made a sparrow's home. The stranger stood back near the dark entrance, and then slowly stepped forward into a small beam of light, entering through a small hole in the wall. The beam danced upon the figure of a woman, in a long, dark green cloak. She lifted her hooded head, revealing a pale, square face. Dripping out of the hood were long strands of white hair. The woman opened her eyes gracing the church with her dark stare and at the same time pulled the hood down. A river of dark brown hair accompanied the white strand and the woman ran her hands through her hair.
She stepped towards the front of the church. Her foot landed down on a thick layer of dust, aside from the little mouse, bird, and other animal tracks, it appeared undisturbed. The board creaked under her weight and she stepped forward. The clack of her heals were muffled, but still echoed up to the rafters. She walked on, past an old bookcase and into the aisle between the two rows of benches. Each row had three pews, which faced the altar, adorned by a simple wooden cross. She walked towards the altar and into the ray of light running through the painted windows. Amber light filled the room, and fell across her face. She turned towards the glass, closed her eyes, and felt the warmth of the light upon her skin. As little glowing orbs floated in the light, she continued towards the altar, her cloak dragging along the floor, trailing dust with her. The stranger reached the altar and ran a gloved hand along it, pulling dust away.
She pushed up her sleeves and slid her elbow length gloves off her hands. Then once again, the woman ran her hand across the revealed, dark wood. She flipped her hand over, running the back of it along the cooled wood. The woman hung her gloves over the railing and kneeled down. She set her elbows on the wood, and started rubbing her hands. She stopped, bowed her head, and then brought her hands together.
The woman breathed in through her nose, and tried to bring her lips apart. They stuck together, but slowly parted with a gasp. The woman ran the tip of her tongue along the brims of her dark red lips and took a deep breath in. Bathed in amber light, she looked up to mother Mary, carved into the wall. Tears stood in the corner of her dark eyes, ready to run. Mary kneeled over a small child in a manger, her hands up in jubilant praise. From her vacant eyes, a small drop of condensation ran down the grainy face of Mary. The woman gasped and smiled as a single tear escaped her own eye's clutch. She took another deep breath in, closed her eyes and thought out loud.
"A'h don't know if you can hear me, or if you're even there."
A sob escaped her.
"A'h don't know if you would listen to a humble prayer."
She took another deep breath in.
"A'h know Ah'm just an outcast, A'h shouldn't speak to you."
Another tear ran down the woman's pale cheek, and she sobbed. She raised her head up and looked at the carving of baby Jesus in the manger. She smiled and her southern voice sighed.
"Still A'h see your face and wonder."
Pause. Almost afraid to say what she said next.
"Were you once an outcast too?"
The images came flooding back to the woman. She saw herself several years ago, before she was an outcast. She was lying on her bed, in her room, in the house where she lived with her parents. The boy was lying next to her. He had this look in his eyes. She had known what was coming next and she couldn't wait. Her heart was racing; her mind was focused on that one thing. She could hardly breathe. His lips touched hers and somewhere deep down, something happened. A bright flash, and this girl with dark brown hair was pushed out the screen door of her house, her father screaming at her. Her mother came out and threw a bag at her feet. Her father ripped her mother's golden crucifix from the girl's neck while she sobbed hysterically. A bright flash. The same girl sat in a bar while two men attacked an outcast. The violence and hate had filled the air. She was so frightened. She had nowhere else to go but with the outcast. A bright flash, and this girl was dying up on top of a symbol of hope. The pain was so intense, and all faith and hope escaped her. Then the girl awoke, with the outcast kneeling next to her, dying. A flash of light. The girl, now a young woman, watched the outcast who saved her, get shot before her eyes. Then evil burned the scene and the woman had to stop it. A flash of light. The young woman, piloting a plane with all the strength in her. She crashed it, and another outcast stayed behind. Something was in the plane, while the other woman saved them all from the cold hand of the water.
A thump and flutter stole the thoughts away from the woman. She looked behind her, and heard the fluttering of birds wings. Somewhere up in the rafters a bird chirped.
She bowed her head once again.
"Why?" "Is there a point?" she stammered.
"Please help the outcasts, frightened from birth, show them the mercy they don't find on earth."
"Please help my people, we look to you still, God help the outcasts when nobody will."
"A'h need to know, why are we this way?" She tightened her hands together. "If you truly loved us, you wouldn't have made us this way, you wouldn't have left us here, alone."
Her voice became more intense and accusing.
"Why are we hated like this, A'h thought we all were the children of God."
She began to sob, her quick, sharp breaths bounced throughout the church.
Through a strangled sob, she stammered, "You really have left us alone, especially me, why have you left us alone?"
She had screamed her last sentence. The air in the church had become thick with intensity, and not even the wind blew outside, leaving the woman in complete silence, while it too waited for an answer. A sudden rush of air, and a loud crash caused the woman to jump up and cry out loud. The sound seemed to hang in the air, ringing off the glass.
The woman looked towards a cloud of dust that climbed up towards the ceiling. Her heart was pounding and her breath remained hard. She got up from the altar, leaving her gloves, and walked towards the disturbance. When she reached the area, she saw that the bookshelf had fallen over and that a bible had fallen from it as well. As the dust curled out from the open bible, the woman picked it up. Her eyes focused on the golden edged pages. It was opened to the book of Matthew, on chapter 28. As she skimmed the page, verse 20, seemed to glow to her. She whispered it on her lips.
"I'll be with you as you do this, day after day after day, right up to the end of the age."
The tears that poured from her eyes were accompanied by the sound of rain hitting the roof. She trembled, and kneeled on the dusty ground. She took the bible and closed it. She ran a bare finger along the golden title of the book. In the bottom right corner of the black cover were the initials "J. Howlett". A silenced fluttering came from under the bookshelf. Then the fluttering turned to thumping as the woman looked at the bookcase puzzled. She stood up and grunted as she lifted the bookcase up, back onto its base. There on the dusty floor lay a nest and next to it a pure white dove. Its wings askew, the dove just laid there as she approached it. She bent over and gently clasped it in her bare hands. She held it up to her face and opened her mouth wide at the softness of its feathers. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt something so soft. She brought it up to her cheek and the bird nuzzled its beak back and forth across it. She giggled. She held the dove in one hand and bent down to pick up the nest. She pulled it up and saw two eggs, broken. She let out a silent choke. She brought the bird back to her face and the tears continued to fall down her face. She turned towards the door and quickly exited the church.
The heavy door creaked as it opened, and the woman stepped out into the rain. She held the bird protectively as she walked toward a field next to the church. The rain continued to fall, and the woman stood there holding the snow white dove. Then she looked up and raised her hands towards the clouds. The dove perched there and then left her hands. She continued to watch the dove fly away as the rain washed away her tears and her doubt. She returned to her motorcycle and swung her leg over the side.
Then she heard, so quietly, "You're not alone." Followed by a flap of wings.
The woman looked up smiling as a large feather fell to the ground.
She stared at the feather and said, "I think we'll be okay, since we have angels watching us."
With that last word, she kicked her bike and peeled off, so sure now that the outcasts aren't alone.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
This is based on the song in The Hunchback of Notre Dam, but I really don't think if this fiction as a song-fic. I just thought the text would be nice to use.