C(h)ur(ch)se

George’s feet pounded the pavement, five steps behind the rest of his class mates. Smoked poured from his mouth with each breath, despite the sun’s attempts at spring, and he shoved his hands into his pockets. His neck and back ached in protest from his hunched walk, his last defence since his coat had failed him. He blocked out the classes chatter. George found it hard to believe that they could get this excited over leaving the confines of a classroom, especially when they were on their way to a church.

As the group trailed behind their lecturer, the pavement gave way to a cobble stone street so that even George’s body was unnerved. All too soon the Church’s spire loomed above them all, casting a heavy shadow over the industrial street cleaners parked outside. If George had looked up, he might have shared in the wonderment of those around him; instead he pulled out his phone and shared with Facebook how he’d rather be in bed.

The church’s grand metal doors were laden with iron flowers and through the glare on his glasses, caught George’s eyes. He ran his thick fingers over the petals as he made his way inside, only to be greeted with donation boxes and ‘home made marmalade’ sales. George snickered and shrugged off the idea of a religious awakening happening today. Even leaflets had a price on them.

Candle holders stood empty as electric bulbs lined the heavy stone walls, accompanied by cheap sets of speakers replacing the choir. Deciding to explore alone, George came across a prayer ‘pin board’. Rita prayed for Samual to find acceptance in his life. Dave prayed for world peace. Barbara prayed for Pistorius’s girlfriend’s safe passage to heaven. George prayed for cheap vodka and unholy women, and then laughed to himself as he put the provided pen back down.

Across the room a note from the organ drowned out the tacky speakers, shocking the whole group into silence. George carried on his inspection, making his way to the gravestones on the wall. Most were illegible in places, the stone crumbling away from the wall. George had no interest in who these people were or how they came to be there, he turned his back to them, and leant against the wall. A piece of a skull, carved into the gravestone, gave way as he did so and shattered at his feet. Panicked, he swept it under the carpet, glad his classmates were still occupied with the organ...