Young Writers Society

Elegy of Flight

Chapter Five: Priest on Fire

Being the small town that it was, the doctors office was only a five minute walk down the dusted road hill from the school. Both Anne and Alistair had proceeded to escort her, even though Carina insisted that she was fine on her own. Once there the friendly and well known physicist had given Carina ice and a prescription to take the rest of the day off. Surprisingly enough it had been Alistair who glared, brooding in his own silence. It had been Alistair who had so hurriedly left at the first moment possible while Anne remained by Carina side, far after the telephone to her parents, up until they came to collect her.

Although Anne’s unexpected manner may have surprised her briefly, Carina chose to give it no further thought; she was feeling weak and tired, exhausted from the day left behind her. She returned home and ate little, ignoring the curious questions of her mother and her sister. It had reached the point where Carina had finally grown aware of her denial. The moment she had overheard the rumors and the whispers with Naomi's name, the defense mechanism had kicked in. It is known only not be be a pleasant feeling, when someone close to you dies; Carina was not immune from this and thus had immediately encased herself, attempting to behave like Naomi was someone she barely knew rather than the girl she would be with almost every day. Alistair and Anne's words had hit here right in the place she was trying to protect; as much as she had tried to run away from the realization of the event that had happened, she knew she would have to accept it. Now alone in her own room, she had planned on crying aloud, releasing the tears and emotions. Instead she slept the moment she arrived back to her bed.

~~~

It wasn't to say that the weather deteriorated completely over the weekend, but the skies had darkened with grey thicks of cloud and the winds were high even midst the few strokes of sunshine. Carina had not attended school the day after and the day after that had been a Saturday. In the time frame of the weeks end, she had not spoken to another classmate, and barely at all to her family. It wasn't until Naomi's funeral on Monday, that her eyes were opened from the dreary hours.

Not everyone was invited; that was what the school memorial had been for. Instead attended only people who had been known to know Naomi personally. The ceremony was held in the small town church, which happened to neighbor the grounds of the school itself. Naomi had only been lightly religious, but her family had participated in a few of the church events that Carina attended, as well as celebrating the traditional holidays.

Carina made no attempt to try and distinguish who was present and who was not. She sulked at the back, letting words pass over her like water, knowing that if he mind settle on the one subject that they were no here to commemorate, she would burst into tears. But even through her blurred gaze, and fists that rubbed eyes- she still saw them.

Amidst the sea of seated black long sleeves, it would have been impossible to avoid it. Impossible to avoid noticing what happened next. They came in late; just as the last dark figures were wiggling in their seats. Was it coincidence that the doorway and isle had been clear for their appearance? Or had they planned the exact moment they entered, gliding like bright spirits.

Alistair and Antoinette; both clad in pure white. Anne wore a simple but flowing dress that hung around her knees, almost suited for the summer breeze more than the harsh bite of the wind on that day. Alistair wore a fresh white shirt, no jacket, transparent buttons with no adornment gracing the fabric. Neat dress-pants and tan coloured linen shoes, his hair combed tightly back as usual. Both of them held complete stone expressions despite the fact of stares and whispers they were receiving, both clutched a small basket, topped with various colours of flowers; Anne held a large white lily in her right hand.

Were they invited? Were they crashing a funeral? No... no-one seemed to be showing any sign of action or disruption apart from the fact that they were wearing outstanding attire. They just continued to move forward like everyone else and picked a spot near the front on the right hand side, sitting the baskets of flowers in their laps.

All forms of members of the community were present, friends of family, or parents of friends of Naomi. A church minister had been a close friend of Naomi's mother, and had offered to host the funeral. He had said a few words, then invited Naomi's closest friends to read verses aloud. His voice felt like it was calling her up to deaths row when Carina was nominated first. Her face paled, but luckily she was able to reject the offer through her dry throat. Her eyes stung from holding back tears. The minister nodded and called up the second best suggestion. Anne was invited.

She graciously accepted, taking a brown journal with her out of the basket, and then accepting the religious book that was handed to her as well. She stood up on the raised steps, smiling, and read aloud.

Her smile was too sweet, her voice too sincere, her words too passionate, her entire expression so obviously a lie. She had not belief or connection to the sounds she was reading- and ridiculed it by taking it so genuinely.To be her, it could have been called guile, but to do it now, at a time like this, was it not sick?

What happened next, was not clear. The air turned cold as the door was hushed open by the wind; Alistair stood and released the flowers, their remains swirling up and around like a dust devil, then raining down like a magic trick. There were a couple of 'ohh'' and 'ahhs' from the crowd in the rain of pretty bodies. Anne had swapped books, and was now reading from the brown journal.

"When I die..." She started on, raising her voice with fervor, "do not blind me with black..."

Alistair stepped forward, he now held the lily outward in one hand, in his other hand a lighter. The petals caught fast in a bright vigor, reducing their plain whiteness to blackened ashes, the flame slowed down at the stem, slowly glowing tall, licking upward with a greenish-orange glow. He moved closer.

"and.." continued Anne, "burn the robes of any priest who prays for me, for I can find my way to heaven on my own behalf."

It only took a second for the mans black tailcoat to catch the heat, he yelped and danced around for a moment before stripping it off and stamping it on the ground. With that Anne looked up from the book before proclaiming 'these were Naomi's own words'.

The front couple of rows were in terminal. The ministers face had gone bright red, hot with anger, lips about to burst into a rush of angered blasphemy. Everyone else was captivated with a horrified awe, their eyes tearing between the priest and the door. The church stayed in silence as they watched the terrible two march right back out, not to return again that day.