chapter 0: spider

402 36 119
                                    

A little black spider skittered to the darkest corner of the old, abandoned church. Long, spindly legs plucked at silvery threads then knit them together in a lacy fashion to create a web. The spider danced around the threads like a dark ballerina, spinning and swirling to some sound only she could hear. As the sun began to rise, a stray ray of light slithered into the building and exploded through the stained-glass windows. The light hummed a gentle lullaby as the spider spun. When the spider's creation was finished, she skittered back to her corner – just off to where no sunlight dared to touch – and sat there. And waited.

As dawn shifted into mid-morning, the door of the church opened. A plump woman holding a broom and a bucket full of cleaning supplies entered the building. She stopped near the entrance and lowered the broom and bucket. The woman removed her neon green jacket, shuffled a few steps forward, and placed the garment over one of the pews – pausing to make sure the padded shoulders did not hunch too much and the sparkly diamond and ruby broaches did not bang against the wood. 

Turning to the front of the church, she crossed herself. "It's a mighty day, oh Lord. A mighty day for the righteous; for us, the devoted." she crossed herself again before moving to the head of the church. "For blessed are those who hear the word of God and observe it," she whispered pridefully.

Bringing her hands to her apron, her chubby fingers gripped the floral print and crushed the painted-on roses. "Saint Agatha's will finally come to life again after much too long. Blessed are we once more." Then with gusto, she exclaimed, "Us good Christians, the ones that believed the end did not come when Father Lucas passed and no other preacher was interested in coming here."

Delores Cullen's watery gaze shifted to the dusty iron Jesus hanging on the wall above the pulpit. Dust mites fluttered before the Savior's melancholy stare. "I know the new preacher was sent from you, Lord." She nodded as if God himself had declared it to her. "I believe what I say down to the very core of my heart. He came because we, the good Christians, prayed and prayed and kept ourselves holy and just and stayed away from that horrible place and those horrible people who have tarnished our community and my perfect son. Oh, my boy. My sweet, innocent Travis."

Letting out a sigh, she shook her head in disgust. "There are respectable, Godly people in this world and then there are people like...like," Delores cringed, "that obscene man who dances in that vile stripping club. That place is full of perverts drinking their bellies full of alcohol. And that...that dirty man does nothing but lure good folk into lewd and disgraceful situations." Bringing a hand to her forehead, she mentally counted to ten before continuing, "I cannot even say his name in Your presence, Lord but he is the reason my Travis is a gay and a cripple with cornflakes for brains."

Outside, the ground cracked and wept. The rain had not come to the sleepy town of Heaven for months to quench the land's thirst. Dry yellowing grass meshed with patches of green. Brittle wildflowers – willing to grow – peeked through the mismatched blades.

Inside the church, the air was stale and it lingered lost and confused. Ever since the previous preacher's death, no one had set foot inside the building. There had been no life interested enough to enter, not one except for the little spider sleeping contently in her web.

"Listen to me rambling on. I did not come here to confess my continuing upset, my Lord. I came to give thanks and clean. I have been standing here for who knows how long simply babbling when I should be sweeping. Right. Idle hands do nothing but cause trouble. We do know that. Oh, do we ever." Delores cleared her throat and looked right at the iron Jesus. "Fools fold their idle hands, leading them to ruin."

She smiled and then placed her broom against her shoulder like a soldier holding a spear. "I'll make Saint Aggy's sparkle like a new dime. I've got bleach and I've got vinegar. I've got a whole lot of sponges and a new scrubbing brush, too."

Casting a look around, she pondered where to begin. When she saw the large web, she yelped, "No, no, no." Every intricate bit the little spider had slaved over glistened in a rogue ray of light. Even with decades of practicing her own knitting, Delores could never create anything so delicate. "This will not do!" Lifting the broom, she whisked the web away.

The little spider, still lost in some little dream, fell to the floor under the foot of the iron Jesus.

Delores rushed over with a furrow on her brow. She tsk tsked under her breath and then pursed her lips unhappily. "Absolutely appalling. We simply cannot have this here. I will not have the new preacher thinking we are unclean." Lifting her foot, she stomped the life out of the tiny, innocent creature.

Disgusted, Delores Cullen marched to the door and opened it. She shook remnants of the web off her broom and then pulled it close to her bosom. Picking up her bucket of cleaning supplies, she hurried to wipe whatever was left of the spider off on the WELCOME ONE AND ALL mat laying by the entrance.

* Fun Fact: Delores's cleaning supplies and actions reflect things from Jesus' crucifixion. There is also a subtle mention of the 7 deadly sins: pride, greed, sloth, envy, lust, gluttony, and wrath. Can you see these things? :)





HeavenWhere stories live. Discover now