SPOTLIGHT:
Student
Laurel
Hilliker
As she was, she would need to make the last train to be home before day's end. But she sat under a stop, an urban lean-to, unmolested by the rain. She did not wish to encounter the next station.
Next to her stood a stone edifice. The rain was repelled by its ogival arches, eschewing the water to unhallowed ground. The windows burned a holy fire. The peak, grasping a cross, shot mightily up in the sky to accost the pagan elements.
Parts of the congregation huddled in the vestibule, not minding the heavy wooden doors open to receive the deluge. As she ascended the porch, they directed their gaze toward her, strangling the conversation.
Street lamps bestowed her with an aura, like an icon of old Byzantium. She passed the warm bodies and met the doors. These were not as their sisters; those stalwart battlements of the holy which
held the outside. These welcomed her with carvings of suffering and salvation. A resounding bell subdued her awe. The oaken inner doors unlocked.
The congregation filled into the nave. Rows of pews covered the transept, poured into with patrons.
A man in black stood at the pulpit, immotile.
To read more of Laurel's "A Church in the Likeness of Blessed Teresa,"
A Church in the Likeness of Blessed Teresa
To read Laurel's creative flash fiction work, "____________," Click Here