Glory Be

Chapter Twenty - David and The Priest

A stray breeze had chilled the church's interior. David rubbed his ever-freezing nose with his sleeve and turned down a hallway, where he reached a staircase. It was steep—almost vertigo-inducing. David carefully stepped his way up the creaking steps, not minding enough to grab hold of the handrail. At the top there was a wooden door with an old brass handle. The door needed a paintjob; David added that to his list.

He walked through the door out into the church tower where the bronze bell was held. Its metallic shine was bathed in darkness. Through the cracks in the wood, the breeze snuck through, and it rustled David's clothes. Swiftly he rubbed his hands together and sparked a quick catalyst of heat, before sticking them into his pockets. The sun was barely on the horizon. The celestial body's rays only breeched through the distant trees. Spreading the hues of red onto the grasslands. David knew it wasn't time yet, but being early was better than being late.

He sighed and slid down the wall to the floor. Only then, he retracted one of his hands and checked his wristwatch. The clock hands were barely visible, but after some squinting David put his watch away. 5:30am. He'd have to wait a little while longer. David faced his gaze to the sky and kept track of the moving clouds.

As the warm colors reflected in the blue pools of his iris, David removed himself from the ground. He respectfully wiped off his clothes; it was proper that way. With a verifying confirmation of his wristwatch, he grabbed the clapper and rang the bell.

A loud clanging echoed out inside the tower as the bronze resonated with the rings. David winced as the sound breached his eardrum. The bell would toll for thirty seconds. It was tradition. David tried to contain his distaste.

As the last ring reverberated, David removed his vibrating hand from the bell. The last toll drowned out in the wind, and he left the tower. Carefully traversing down the steep staircase; now more foreboding from the high ground. Once he reached the floor, he once again straightened out his outfit. Then rubbed his tired eyes and fixed his tussled hair, before finally, returning to the house.

Sounds of creaking floorboards filled the small building. His family was surely waking soon. With a growing hunger in his stomach, David did his rounds around the church. Inventory first. He'd have to check everything: altar cloths, candles, incense, robes, crosses, wine, communion wafers, holy water, chrism oil, bibles, prayer books, hymnals, vases, brooms, and repair tools. David made a note that they needed more oil. His Father could order more.

David did one last walk around the storage room, his eyes gazing around the numerous shelves. One of the cabinets was filled with filled from top to bottom in boxes. They were records. Baptisms, marriages, and deaths. An anxious feeling started to build its way up through his body. He had just been in here; updating the records after Luke's funeral, and he knew he'd be here again; filing away his own marriage certificate. Which shouldn't feel comparable.

Immediately he left, knowing he was just lingering in his own mind. It was a waste of time. David walked fast down the hallway, where crosses and portraits decorated his family's walls. He stopped in his tracks when he passed by the kitchen. The sound of sizzling food radiated from the wooden door, and he decided it was finally time for breakfast.

"Good morning, mother," David said politely as he entered the room. His mother, dressed in a modest brown skirt and blue blouse, was standing over a frying pan. The cooking of eggs and sausage filled the room was enticing smells.

"Good morning, darling," She smiled, "How has your morning been?"

"Busy enough," David huffed, as he hovered around the table. He stared between the option of sitting, and assisting, "Do you need help?"