Dame Rinda
Readers on Deadline (ROD) is a monthly Deadline Dame feature where we post an intriguing image and invite readers to be inspired and share the results in up to 250 words right here in the comments. The deadline is next Wednesday, Dec 9th by midnight! The Dames will pick the one that most intrigues us, post that entry in the next month’s ROD along with a link to that writer/reader’s site. And you get a prize!
( We’d like to add a request for our readers not to re-post pictures. Some are stock photos and those are fine, but quite a few of them are used with written permission from the artist. Thanks! )
And for the fun part… The DAMES COULD NOT REACH A DECISION. LOL! We had a three-way tie and managed to get it down to a two-way tie. So we have two winners from ROD #9. Congratulations to Tami Moore and Kalyn Marie! (Let me know if you have a website Kalyn!)
First up, Tami’s entry.Reena’s hearts thudded against her ribcage with the insensible panic of a trapped creature seeking escape. She crouched deeper into the shadow of the loaded hospital cart pressing herself flat against the sterile wall panel and praying her white hospital suit blended enough for a casual room sweep.
Booted feet slapped dully against metallo floor panels. She stilled, holding her breath as the sound grew louder – Close…so close! – before finally dimming as the patrol passed.
She heard the slap of weapons against thighplates on that pass. They must be narrowing down their search.
Desperate, she lifted a hand and waved it in front of her face. Her slitted pupils contracted painfully as she forced them to focus and her hand left a glowing trail in her vision. Damn. The drug hadn’t worn off completely.
A radio squawked, a harsh voice barking orders to a guard she hadn’t even known was nearby.
She had to chance a jump. Worse than risky, drugged as she was, but she had to take the chance.
Closing her first set of eyelids, the shimmering curtain wavered in and out of focus. Firmly, she reached forward and grasped at the glow, fingers slipping against the not-fabric. She leaped.
“I’ve got her, sir!”
A hand on her foot. Her jump slowed, pressure warping her arms, her face, her body. Beads of glittering water formed on her suit, the curtain shredding under pressure. A rip and she was falling, her jump totally out of control.
Where would she land?
And Kalyn’s entry:
I think I just ate a child. First there were the little fingers—crunchy delights—but then the arm slid in and I was gone. So was she… Who was she? I don’t know—I don’t seem to understand anything anymore.
He would know what is happening. My sweet, sweet, beloved husband, darling man: where have you gone? Why have you left me in this place, this soulless place, all alone? I wanted your children, I did, but then you left and I was all alone in this warped place and I don’t understand anything anymore.
I wanted children; I always had. I could feel the baby in my arms when I stood at the alter with you. He was so close to my heart and he didn’t even exist. My heart pounded under the white satin of my mother’s wedding dress and I dreamed of our children. I loved you, but you left me all alone.
There was a baby and then another, but they liked to grow cold in my arms and they never stayed. You left me all alone with cold babies. You were gone and there were no more babies to hold. I decided to leave you too.
I waded out into the river in my wedding dress. It was very cold.
There were children. They were not mine and they did not mean to stay in the river but I kept them. I wanted them and now they will be with me always.
Congratulations to you both! Email us with your addresses to get your copies of Lili St.Crow’s Betrayals–which incidentally debuted at #5 on the Childrens’ NYT LIST!!!!! Congrats Dame Lili!!!!
This month’s image is one of the Deadline Dames’ purchased stock photos. I can’t wait for the interpretations of this one. 
The prize is a $25 online Barnes and Noble gift certificate! Happy Holidays!
Related posts:
Tags: deadline dames, reaaders on deadline, Rinda Elliott, writing to images
Oh goodness! I won?! *twirls* Wow! There were so many wonderful entries, I didn’t think I had a chance.
Thank you!
And congrats to Kalyn as well. =]
There were a bunch of great entries! You guys are really making it hard on us. Which is completely cool.
Congrats again!
*squeals in joy* Yes! I really wanted Betrayals
Congratulations to you too Tami! XD
Wow, I love this picture, Rinda!
I enjoyed this one, thank you. Here goes:
The air was hot and humid; I felt the cold from stone steps beneath my knees as I knelt quietly, praying. Shadows flickered and danced across the church walls around me. I’d convinced Ethan I wasn’t coming here to hide; or at least I think I had. He’d known me for far too long.
Twelve years of working together had meant that every movement we made, whether consciously or subconsciously was picked by the other. I dropped my head, opened my eyes, starring down at the tiny bump, just now beginning to show. My life had changed so much in the last two years, who’d have thought I’d finally admitted what everyone else knew and settled down…only my past wouldn’t allow that to happen. Consecrated ground meant I was safe, for now. A chill ran down my spine.
So, you may be asking yourself why on earth a woman in her second trimester was kneeling in a church late at night? Suffice to say, I was waiting for a man—a priest. Father Thomas stepped out from behind the curtain, grim look on his face. He was my only chance of stopping her, of stopping this demon from taking my soul to hell.
The temperature dropped suddenly, a loud roar rang through my ears. Father Thomas froze, eyes darting everywhere. We both knew we were no longer alone. Elvira stood in all her glory, balancing on the back of a pew. Hands on her hips, dazzling smile fixed to her face.
“Hello sister, it’s been a while”. I rose to my feet, slightly shaky.
“I’m not going back El, I’m not—“
“You have no choice, my sweet. Your time is up,” then the lights went out…
Rachel, me too! I made it into one of our banners, but then thought I’d save for something cool. She looks tough, eh?
Here you go : Silent. Subtle.
In this silence, my dark, self-imposed purgatory; I hear my brethren call. Sof whispers caress my ears in silent, subtle threats. I take in each with a promise, allowing my soul be exposed to mine enemies.
A footstep interrupts my deathly reunion, the invisible, ghostly hands withdrawing from my pale, cool skin. A rank, pestilent scent burns my nostrils, and I turn to mine intruder. Father Ike, carrying a cross-stake in one hand, a silver mallet in the other. Lips cherry red, eyes a deep mahogany, I stare at my father.
“Amalia.” He whispers, and the sound is loud in my ears; bounding through the cathedral. My enemy-friends stir, milling in swift, icy breezes, excited that I have not indeed cheated death. I pull my lips back from my teeth, granting him the evidence he so quested for. I could hear his sigh from across the room.
“It has been left to me.”
“I know.”
He raised the stake, I lunged for the life stream that glowed like a neon target before my eyes.
I don’t even remember dying. I uttered not a sound; not as my own father drove the stake in. Not even as the demons entered my body. My death was silent. Subtle.
I’ve been tempted for the last few pictures, but a story came so fast with this one so here’s my first try at this!
“You will give it to me right now.” She stretched across the two pews I’d left between us, her hand landing inches from mine.
It wasn’t as frightening as she thought.
I already knew she couldn’t go full demon in a church so her human legs would keep her there, keep her from being a real threat. I stepped back, dropping my hands to my sides, out of grabbing range.
“I didn’t bring it with me.” I repeated. It was a lie. The crucifix was in my pocket, but I suddenly decided I didn’t want to part with my last keepsake left to me by my grandmother if it would give me a nice down payment on a house. I could wait a few more years for a house. The apartment wasn’t that bad. Really, it wasn’t. Not compared to handing over the only thing left of the woman who raised me.
When I’d heard the offer I’d hoped she’d remind me of my grandmother, but she was as far from that solid gentle woman as I’d ever seen. It should have been obvious she’d be a demon. Who else would want to pay thousands for a necklace? It wasn’t even real gold.
“You have it. I can smell it.”
Oh, now that made her very frightening. Her hand clenched and she slid closer, dragging her legs over the tops of benches.
Crap.
I hadn’t thought of that.
I ran, but she only laughed.
What had I gotten myself into?
I couldn’t sleep anymore. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Lyle die.
Good for you.
Those were the last words I had ever said to him.
Lyle had been a believer. Which was part of why I was here, in church or was it at church. How the hell was I supposed to know, I hadn’t been to church in years. I was never a believer, it was what divided us – that and his mother.
Something is killing people, Drea, and I’m going to find it.
Well good for you, Lyle.
No one had believed him. I hadn’t believed him.
I hated myself for that, if I had believed him…he might be alive. He could be sitting next to me, instead I sat here alone in the nearly dark church.
It was hard to believe Lyle, when he started talking about monsters killing people in the dead of night. But I believed it now, especially after seeing Lyle die.
Now I believed there was something out there, maybe that’s why I’d come here.
I heard the bells ring in the clock tower. I don’t know how long I had been sitting here, but it was time I left.
I slowly lifted myself off the wooden seats. My limbs were stiff from sitting for hours.
I was going to find the monster that killed Lyle, and when I did I was going to kill it.
Good for me.
Hey guys,
These all sound really good. Here’s my two cents
As corny as it sounds, church was my sanctuary. My thoughts were my own. Not a single soul out there could weave their slimy little tentacles in my mind while I was here.
My family wasn’t so lucky and although they were still looking for me, it was for all the wrong reasons now. So I began church hopping. It was the only way I could have a decent sleep without them haunting my dreams.
I didn’t know what they wanted but I was one last ones that hadn’t been affected by their influence. They walked the streets at night singing their awful song and at times I was tempted to walk out of here and give in just to shut them up but then logic would kick in and I’d move closer to the cross.
The news had said it was a virus, if I had to guess it was either mutation or aliens. They both sounded ridiculous but that was all I had and I guess it would have to do for now.
The church doors banged open and Rain came running towards me with his hand extended and closed around a gun. I gasped and pulled myself over the pews reaching for the cross. They shouldn’t have been able to get in.
“Our father who art in heaven uh..” Shit I should have listened in Sunday school. My mind went blank and that’s when he shot me. My brother, I thought before I bled out.
I was poised to pounce. My right hand tingled from the grip on the pew in front of me, while my left hand braced me to spring. I watched the heavy velvet curtains behind the altar undulate with life, and I knew my attacker waited. I wanted to scream, “Show yourself, you yellow-bellied goon!” because though I didn’t have an exact bead on him, he sure had full view of me. Why in this century-old monstrosity was I the only guest? Where’re all the candle lighters, for Pete’s sake? Wait, let’s be noble about this. At least I’ll be the only casualty. No innocent blood spilled here today–just nasty little me. I take one last look at the crucifix, dangling above the altar and now swinging as the curtains part. The perpetrator is stark black against the red velvet. Looks like he’s wired for sound, with rubber tubing criss-crossing his body. I freeze as he glides toward me, his black robes silently brushing the stone steps until he’s just three pews away. His arms are spread wide, with one hand gripping a detonator. Oh, Lordy. This guy isn’t going to just off me, he’s gearing up to blow this whole gothic icon to kingdom come. That’s when I decide that a quick exit is the strategy du jour, but can I make it to the door before I’m decorated with this guy’s brains?
Brother John woke to a loud bang from the narthex. He hadn’t meant to sleep, he was supposed to prepare the church for early Mass, but he was so tired. He jumped up from his spot in the balcony. He crept to the railing and peered over into the nave to see who could be in the church at 3am.
At first he couldn’t see anyone. Then the door open again, and in walked a man who oozed with the essence of pure, unadulterated evil. Brother John as a fledgling in the Aureole, could see it seethe around him, and smothered a gasp.
“Come out, little miss…” the man sang in a voice like gravel and broken glass. “You know you can’t hide from me.”
The man stalked slowly down the center aisle, peering into each row of pews, as if he had all the time in the world. Brother John’s lips silently moved in prayer, the 23rd Psalm coming to him without conscious thought.
Suddenly, a small girl’s dark head popped up from half a dozen pews ahead of the man, she began running towards the altar of the church, hopping gracefully from the back of one bench to the next. The man gave a roar of triumph and began the chase, quickly gaining ground. He grabbed hold of her ankle and the girl fell, stretched across the pews.
Her gaze soared to the balcony, where she saw Brother John. Her lips moved and the monk froze, “Help me!”
Congrats to the winners! I haven’t played in awhile and have missed the ROD. Here’s mine for this month:
The urn oozed oily smoke—the Witch in ephemeral form. Stymied, the magicks could do nothing. Vampire, gargoyle and fae couldn’t do a damn thing. With the sudden clarity of pure inspiration, Sade knew exactly what to do. She’d been born and literally bred for this one moment in time, unique among humans—wholly human but touched by both the light and dark sides of magic. She probably wouldn’t survive. But neither would the Witch. Sade’s arms tightened for a moment around Ariel. “Thanks, my friend,” she murmured and brushed dry lips across the injured fae’s temple. “By saving my life you have saved them all.”
“What the bloody blue blazes are you doing?” Ari managed a tortured whisper.
“The only thing I can,” Sade muttered. “If you die, I’ll haunt you through all the Realms.” She crawled over the pews to the front of the church. “I’m about to become the biggest damned Mary Sue in the universe.”
Sinjen stepped closer. Sun blazing through the stained glass window blocked the vampire’s way—a prison bar of light stretching wall-to-wall. Sade stared at him, willing him to stay safe, sending him her thoughts, If this doesn’t work, I’ll be really pissed, followed by, I love you. She launched into the air and tackled the urn, sucking the smoke deep into her lungs as it shattered on the stone floor, swallowing the essence of the Witch. Seconds later, she laid in a crumpled heap. Fuck. Dying really hurts.
Congratulations to Tami and Kalyn! Good job!
What an interesting picture for this month. Thanks for running this fun monthly contest, Dames
“Tsk, tsk. We can’t play if you don’t drop the shields.”
I scowled. “If I do that, you’ll kill me. Give me the necklace, Isabel.”
Her translucent form sparkled in the dim, Church candlelight. “No, I want to play!” She did a back-flip, cackling madly. As she surfaced, she threw something bright and sparkly toward the altar. “Catch!”
“If you think–” I dropped my shields and pounced onto the pew in front of me, grabbing the back of the next one as I jumped again. Maybe it was stupid, but I knew I wouldn’t get another chance, and I couldn’t have kept the shields up much longer anyway.
Isabel shrieked, and I turned my head to see her trying to grab my ankle. She’d made herself solid–good. I aimed a kick at her face, sending her sprawling with a satisfying crunch.
I swear this is disrespectful…
Lord, please forgive me. This is for a noble cause–
“Agh!”
I tripped over the back of the last pew, landing face-first onto the first step leading to the altar. A groan escaped my lips, but I didn’t let the pain that announced I’d have a nice attractive bruise on my face stop me. I rolled to my feet, hurled myself up the steps, ducked the manic ghost, and grabbed the necklace.
“Yes!” I cried–and then realised what I was holding.
Isabel blinked innocently from her spot in mid-air. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I forget to mention I had a spare?”
Being in a church is fun when you are a normal, everyday person, but not if you are someone like me. A girl that can see spirits that have not moved on. Today I sat next to my mother as she prayed for the safe return of my sister, who has been missing for two days.
As I sat there I hoped that I did not see Mandy walking amongst the spirits. I could see more spirits gathering around and I really did not want to be here when the rest of them showed up.
I was almost to the gate when I heard someone call my name. In my haste I did not notice who the voice belonged to. “What!” I shouted as I turned to see my sister standing there. Her dark brown hair shadowed her eyes, dirt was caked onto her skin, and there were some traces of dried blood.
That is when I knew: my sister was dead.
“He killed me” she muttered vaguely. “Who?” I demanded, wanting to know the truth and get some sort a vengeance. “Michael Simmons” she said clearly as she met my eyes. Her eyes held determination and vengeance.
I rushed back into the church. It made sense now. Michael was new to the neighborhood, he moved a lot, kept to himself, and he really liked his privacy. “Michael did it! He killed Mandy!” I said over and over again.
Congrats to the winners. Here’s my entry:
“Oh Lord, Oh Lord,” I whispered, huddling behind the altar.
I clamped my hands together in silent pray, sniffling as the tears rolled steadily down my cheeks.
“Sweetie-pie,” his smooth voice sang from behind me.
I stifled a whimper, the dark memories of being locked away, beaten, betrayed, rising to the surface.
“I promise not to hurt you anymore,” he almost sounded truthful, and I might have believed him, had he not told me the same thing every time I ran.
This time would be different though, this time I wasn’t going back.
I heard his footsteps as he walked away, hopefully down that corridor on the right. Now was my chance. I poked my head out, scanning the area as I ducked and jogged forwards. The oak doors were right in front of me…
“There you are.”
I spun, eyes wide with terror, a scream forming as his mutilated burnt face stretched before my eyes. A sharp pain exploded in my chest, silencing the cry that never made it past my lips.
Poppy’s dead body lay stretched out before him. A grotesque knife protruding from her chest.
“That’s what you get for running, love,” he murmured, bending down to press his lips to her still warm forehead.
“Can’t have you whispering out my secrets,” he smiled, giving her an affectionate pat on the cheek, before yanking out the knife and walking away. Humming to himself.
“Give it back.”
“Oh, darling,” she said, a smile sliding across her face. “You signed in blood. That’s about as permanent as it gets.”
“We had a deal,” I said desperately, clutching the back of the pew with one hand for support. “I wanted a child. You gave me an abomination.”
“Yes, well, you didn’t specify which kind of child. Devil’s in the details, honey. You should have checked the fine print.”
My mouth went dry at her words and I realized this meeting was a lost cause, about as lost as my soul. I pressed a hand against my distended belly, feeling the thing inside me kick against the pressure of my fingers. It hated me as much as I hated it, this monstrosity that I carried.
“Let me sell you something else,” I begged. “Something, anything, in exchange for you getting this thing out of me.”
I watched as she leaned forward in the dim light of the church, only shadows where her eyes should have been. “You’ve got nothing left to offer. Don’t waste your breath.”
“I’ve got money—”
She laughed, the sound echoing eerily through the empty church. “Mortal currency is useless. You know that.”
I scratched my fingernails over my blouse, a ragged edge catching on the soft silk. All I could hear was my own breathing and the faint sound of traffic out on the street.
The confession came easily enough. “My sister has a son.”
“Really?” The demon smiled. “Tell me more.”
The church was dim, quiet, and peaceful.
I sat on a wooden pew, facing the archaic altar. A looming golden crucifix ascended towards the ceiling, glinting in the surrounding candlelight. A door boomed closed behind me as I bowed my head, hearing the soft murmur of Latin. An elderly priest moved towards the altar, rocking a thurible of burning incense. As the pungent scent invaded my nostrils, my skin suddenly began to tingle as the hairs on the back of my neck rose in alarm.
No. It couldn’t be.
My heart began a steady pound as I watched his back. If wasn’t for dark force vibrating through my bones, I would’ve never suspected. My grip tightened on the pew in front of me as I stood, adrenaline spilling into my veins. I stepped onto walkway and withdrew my katana, a sharp shing echoing into the cavernous ceiling.
“Mephistopheles!”
He instantly spun around at the sound of his name, halting just before the crucifix. His wrinkled face twisted with fury, eyes bleeding black at the sight of me. Candles erupted like Molotov cocktails, starting at the back of the church and moving forward. The thurible burst into flames, becoming a fiery mace.
“You,” He hissed in a voice that was no longer of this earth as he shapeshifted into his true form. I barely had a glimpse of him before everything was plunged into darkness.
Then the thurible came at me like a screaming fireball.
Hey guys,
Noticed a few errors so I reposted. Hope that’s okay!
~~~
The church was dim, quiet, and peaceful.
I sat on a wooden pew, facing the archaic altar. A looming golden crucifix ascended towards the ceiling, glinting in the surrounding candlelight. A door boomed closed behind me as I bowed my head, hearing the soft murmur of Latin. An elderly priest moved towards the altar, rocking a thurible of burning incense. As the pungent scent invaded my nostrils, my skin began to tingle and the hairs on the back of my neck rose in alarm.
No. It couldn’t be.
My heart began a steady pound as I watched his back. If it wasn’t for the dark force vibrating through my bones, I would’ve never suspected. My grip tightened on the pew in front of me as I stood, adrenaline spilling into my veins. I stepped onto walkway and withdrew my katana, a sharp shing echoing into the cavernous ceiling.
“Mephistopheles!”
He instantly spun around at the sound of his name, halting just before the crucifix. His wrinkled face twisted with fury, eyes bleeding black at the sight of me. Candles erupted like Molotov cocktails, starting at the back of the church and moving forward. The thurible burst into flames, becoming a fiery mace.
“You,” He hissed in a voice that was no longer of this earth as he shapeshifted into his true form. I barely had a glimpse of him before everything was plunged into darkness.
Then the thurible came at me like a screaming fireball.
Congrats to the winners! Great stories guys.
Here goes…
“I should not have eaten that last priest.”
My stomach grumbled again as I carefully lowered myself onto the pew. I knew better than to consume too much blood. Unfortunately, feedings were a rarity and passing up fresh blood would have been criminal. Besides it wasn’t like they were real priests. All three of them were just parasites, draining the faithful of money and life. Incubuses are always found where people regularly gathered, but using a church as a hunting ground was an all time low.
I leaned back against the pew trying to relieve the pressure and indigestion from overindulgence. I wasn’t looking forward to the report I’d have to file to make these kills all legal like. I’m a Griffter and if I wanted to keep my belly satisfied and my arms out of chains I’d play by the rules. And if I didn’t, well I guess I wouldn’t be any different than the predators I hunted.
I tipped my head back letting it rest against the curved wood smoothed by years of use. The blood on my clothes was starting to cool against my skin as it grew tacky. Experience had taught me that waiting until the blood got crunchy to start removing clothes would be like skinning a squirrel. I took a deep breath preparing to peel myself off of the pew when I felt the sharp edge of cold steel meet my exposed throat.
Damn, I’d forgotten to check the confessional
She calls to me, my mistress of the night. I am helpless to resist as she lures me from all I’ve ever known. She pulls me from my home, my wife and our unborn son. Her voice beckons me deeper and deeper into a darkness I will never return from.
Dark shapes lurk in the pitch black of midnight. I cannot see where she is guiding me, but I blindly follow her directions. Tonight is the night she will turn me. I will not be the man I am right now. I will be hers. Forever.
I am surprised when she leads me into an abandoned church. But there is nothing holy about this place anymore. The vampires have made their nest here. This is to be my home.
My mistress crawls over the pews, fresh blood covering her face. There is probably a body on the floor, another soul who will not return to their loved ones. Her face twists into what I can only imagine is supposed to be a seductive smirk. Her teeth are long and sharp, bits of flesh stuck between them. The effect is gruesome and more than I can bear. I, however, do not turn away in disgust. I remain immobile as she comes to me.
She wraps me in her embrace, nuzzling my neck. “My beloved,” she whispers against my ear. I try not to flinch from her touch. I will die so my wife may live. This is the fate I choose.
Am I in a church? The last thing I remembered was my death. It hadn’t come gently, but harsh and burning. And now I’m back, again. It gets worse every time. I reach out with shaky hands and brush the smooth wood, nothing like the rough hewed pews of my childhood. I slowly stood, getting my bearings.
“Damien?” I shouted into the vast open space of the church, fear in my voice. Churches had always scared me as a child, the preacher screaming of fire and brimstone, and the damnation of my eternal soul.
“I’m here.” He called from the shadows, my eyes darting around as his voice echoed around me.
“Why, Damien, why?” I asked as my voice broke. I remembered everything, the loss of our lives and home. Tears streaked down my cheeks.
“They always fear what they don’t understand.” His own voice harsh with emotion. Immortality is a curse we bore, souls never at rest.
We glanced around, wondering how many lifetimes had passed since we last drew breath.
Damien pressed my trembling body tightly against to him. “It won’t happen again.” He vowed. “We’ll seek out the damned sorceress and put an end to this one way or another.”
The sorceress had cursed us in a bid for everlasting life, and so far, she had succeeded. Death would be a welcome release.
I know it’s too late for a real entry, but I wasn’t sure if I could enter again until just recently. I love the writing practice, even without the promise of reward.
—-
Catherine gritted her teeth, knuckles white where her fingers clutched the back of the pews.
Why did priests always assume their faith kept them safe from demons? Morons, the lot of them. Their faith made them vulnerable. Easier to sew seed in a plowed field than a fallow one.
Behind her, a pair of slender candelabras crashed to the ground, flames dying. The Virgin Mary shattered. An unholy wind picked up, pulling against her with enough force to lift her body into the air. Her left hand slipped on the oiled wood and she felt a fingernail tear as she scrambled for a grip on the next row.
If only Peter’d told her he’d been planning an exorcism tonight instead of their normal research sessions. She could have come prepared. At the very least, she’d have met him at the church with a bag full of weaponry instead of a meat-lover’s pizza.
Behind her, the vortex howled with an almost human voice. The fingers of her other right hand began to slide across the wood, threatening to release. She dug her nails into the decorative border with grim determination.
Idiot or no, Peter was dead and the evil he’d so casually been attempting to lock away in Hell was released. The clergy never listened.
Abruptly, the wind died. Freed from its grasp, Catherine’s body fell between two pews, head slamming into a hymnal.
Someone wearing Peter’s voice began to laugh.
Angelica crept noiselessly through the church, the beating of her heart felt so loud she worried it might echo across the high cieling and give her away. Tommy is wrong, she thought. I don’t always have to be a do-gooder. She moved up behind the pulpit and mouthed a voiceless sermon to the congregation of shadows and inanimate objects. The giving of the sermon and its respectfully silent reception calmed her heart. See? Doing bad stuff right now!
She stretched her arms out in front of her and shuffled in a zombie-like fashion between the pews. In her mind she could see an army of fellow zombies marching with her down to the rear of the church, the thought sending excited c hills down her spine. Her march ended in a leaping dance, and she stifled a giggle as she grabbed hold of the last pew and climbed onto it. Her mouth emitted tight groaning and growling noises and she climbed across the pews like a ladder, donning as scary a face as she could muster to frighten the invisible ex-boyfriend sitting in the front. Just as she nearly had her revenge, the light of a security guard’s flashlight poured onto her face and shocked her back into reality.
The guard smiled warmly, “Tommy’s not here. But don’t worry. I’ve taken care of him.” The light left her face all at once, and she worriedly looked around to see where he had gone, but there was no sign of him.