The Angel
Created | Updated Jan 28, 2002
The little girl managed to open the heavy door, and peered into the church. The font in the corner seemed miles high. But around it, there were toys. She wanted toys badly.
She moved forwards, letting go of the door. It slammed loudly, echoing off everything. The little girl looked around the church guiltily. There was no-one there.
She looked around, and spotted a statue of an angel near the altar. She stared at it, wondering how many sacraments it had seen administered. The angel was made of marble, in the form of a woman, it had huge pure-white wings, and wore white robes, a little like her brother did when he was in the choir, though some of his were blue. He had worn a long cassock and a white surplice, and had processed after the crucifix, held by an acolyte. The small girl sighed. That seemed so long ago now, though it was only a few months ago really. She really missed her brother. She caught herself wondering if he saw lots of angels like this, and felt herself smile.
She looked again at the angel. It had a trusting, warm face, despite the fact it was made of cold, cold marble. She began to wonder again, but her philosophical moment was spoiled by the entry of the priest into the church.
He was a middle aged, balding, rather pathetic man. He was dressed in his robes already, and seemed to be rehearsing the next morning's service, pointing and waving his arms around. He was muttering to himself. After a while he appeared to reach an agreement with his subconcious, and walked out.
The small girl watched him leave. With a certain amount of resignedness, she got back to staring at the angel.
She moved forwards, letting go of the door. It slammed loudly, echoing off everything. The little girl looked around the church guiltily. There was no-one there.
She looked around, and spotted a statue of an angel near the altar. She stared at it, wondering how many sacraments it had seen administered. The angel was made of marble, in the form of a woman, it had huge pure-white wings, and wore white robes, a little like her brother did when he was in the choir, though some of his were blue. He had worn a long cassock and a white surplice, and had processed after the crucifix, held by an acolyte. The small girl sighed. That seemed so long ago now, though it was only a few months ago really. She really missed her brother. She caught herself wondering if he saw lots of angels like this, and felt herself smile.
She looked again at the angel. It had a trusting, warm face, despite the fact it was made of cold, cold marble. She began to wonder again, but her philosophical moment was spoiled by the entry of the priest into the church.
He was a middle aged, balding, rather pathetic man. He was dressed in his robes already, and seemed to be rehearsing the next morning's service, pointing and waving his arms around. He was muttering to himself. After a while he appeared to reach an agreement with his subconcious, and walked out.
The small girl watched him leave. With a certain amount of resignedness, she got back to staring at the angel.
