Big Bad

Stories of the Past

Kit was on cloud nine. He floated home down the streets of Belford in a daze of joy. The festival had turned out to be better than he ever could have imagined, thanks in no small part to a certain someone. To get to dance with somebody— especially somebody as handsome as Elijah— was far outside even the realm of possibilities that Kit had considered for the night.

He rushed under the trellis that served as a gate to the white picket fence that surrounded the churchyard and up the steps of the rectory. Just a few short hours ago he had been annoyed at the prospect of having a babysitter for the night, but everything had changed. He had gotten to spend the night dancing with a perfect stranger. To Kit, that was like a fairytale.

Unlocking the large mahogany front door, Kit passed into the house. The rectory had an entry hallway that was narrow and had a steep old staircase leading to the second floor. Past the stairway to the back was a small dining room with a wooden table. Once it might have had many chairs, but only four remained. To the left of that room was a closed off dated kitchen that appeared to be right out of the seventies. It had ugly linoleum tiles and orangish wood cabinets topped with blue countertops and cream appliances. On the right side of the house was the sitting room which contained a couch, two rocking chairs, a fireplace, and no television. Fr. Charles said television was not an essential, and Kit had grown not to miss it.

The boy intended to head right up the stairs ahead of him, but as he stepped his feet creaked on the old floorboards.

"Kit? Is that you?" A voice called from the parlor to his left. 

Thankfully it was the voice of his aunt, Sr. Matilda, and not Fr. Charles.

"Yes Sister!" He called, stepping into the warm room. Sr. Matilda sat in an armchair by the large stone fireplace with a wooden rosary clutched in her hands. The fire was nearly out, but still cast a warm orange glow over Sister Matilda and the yellow floral wallpaper. "Are you alright? Did you need help climbing the stairs?"

"You were meant to be home a half hour ago."

"I know, Sister..... I'm awfully sorry... I was just having such a great time and I lost track of—" He rambled, fumbling with his sleeves. "Is Fr. Charles home?"

Sr. Matilda's stern exterior faded to a warm smile and she sat up slightly in her chair.

"He isn't. Now why don't you tell me everything that happened?"

"I—" He paused. "You're not angry?"

"No. I think it's wonderful," She grinned. "You're young, you should be out going to parties, and by yourself if it was up to me. Now tell me how it was... did you dance?"

Kit smiled himself, and nodded averting his eyes to the large wooden clock not far from her on the wall.

"Oh?" She offered with a knowing smile. "You danced with somebody, didn't you? Someone I know?"

"No," Kit gushed. "Someone from Newbury... He was—" He stopped himself, realization flooding his face.

"He?" Sr. Matilda asked.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean—"

"It's alright, child. I don't judge," She calmed. "Now tell me about him."

Kit sank onto the sofa in a fit of nerves and joy. Where could he begin, what could he possibly tell. There was so much to say.

"His name was Elijah," Kit explained.

"A noble name."

"He's very tall."

"I thought he would be."