A Show About Nothing

The organ keys creaked a bit. They weren't new, but they were maintained as best they could. The church had lost a lot of patrons in recent years, and the collection plates showed as much.

Still, the organ played well. In fact, it was a sweet sounding organ...maybe sweet is the wrong word. It was like a perfectly aged wine...there was so much flavor but it was still mellow...but somehow bold. Unlike a wine though, this didn't take a connesiour to know it sounded good. All it took were the few families standing up in the pews, the pastor at the altar, and the young teens doing altar duty on Christmas Eve to appreciate it.

The lights in the rafters were turned off and there were just the lights at the altar burning bright and two faint lights being carried to the back.

Max was thinking about how he had already been sleeping as he passed the flame to Mr. Kerring, starting it on the left.

The right side went slightly further back in the rows than on the left, and John was anxiously awaiting going home and re-heating dinner. The flame was passed to the stone old matriarch of the church, Mrs. (always Mrs. and not Ms.) Woodrung.

The flame was passed along on both sides and people sang "Silent Night" to the organ. Outside a light snow fell. Simon Woodrung had to walk up a few rows to pass it on to the Moonies, and he was hoping Hazel would see him smiling at her.

Mr. Kerring was wondering what lead him here as he passed the flame to a man who had never been in that church before, but was in need of something soothing. His left arm was in a sling, and it was difficult to use his right to hold the candle. Not even a week before he was suffering in a desert on the other side of the world.

The Moonies had passed the flame to their good friends the Lucardos. Rain Lucardo, visiting from college, was reminded of so much of before as he received his flame. He wondered how he would ever tell his parents that he had become Catholic and was engaged.

Slowly the lone light worked its way back to the front, many lights shining in the dark, made brave by music sent on from high. The flame was something different to everyone, but it was all the same in the end. The pastor looked out at the lights for the Homily and a tear formed in his eyes.

The pulpit was rotting. And still, there are believers. The organ keys creaked upwards, and no one noticed for their flames were burning.