Didn’t have a lot of time this week 🙈

The Forest & The Beast

The leaves crunched beneath my feet as I brushed back the crouching branches that threatened to bat me backward.

An owl hooted from above, and goosebumps lined my arms. “Are you sure this is the way, Adrien?”

A huff answered me from behind. “Are you doubting my abilities?”

I shook my head and crossed my arms over my chest. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing. I don’t understand what we’re doing here in the first place.”

“Simple,” he grinned, taking my spot in the lead. “You trust your cousin enough to safely deliver you to the only spot worthy of watching the sunset.”

I groaned. “Why couldn’t we just go to the lake like every other year?”

“Because this isn’t every other year, and I’m sick of doing the same thing. Every. Single. Summer.”

Part of me wanted to turn around and go back to the lake house our grandparents rented every year. But the other part knew I’d be lost faster than you could spell woods.

“Look, we’re almost there, okay?” Adrien tried not to wince as his hand brushed a thorn bush. “It should be—”

His voice trailed off as his gaze locked on a shadowy figure in the distance.

My heart dropped to my toes.

“Don’t move a muscle,” Adrien whispered.

“What do we do?” I whimpered, trying to stand as still as possible as the mound of fur stared.

Adrien moved his head slowly, biting his lip. “Do you see that? Over there.”

“Where?”

“I see some brick, covered in vines.”

“What if it’s nothing?”

“It’s our best chance,” he whispered.

I gulped and forced myself not to nod.

Adrien took one step backward as slowly as he could manage. The animal bristled.

I followed his lead, and apparently so did the beast as it began to walk toward us, mimicking our movements.

“Just a little further,” Adrien promised.

I was so focused I barely realized it when my back bumped against the hard concrete structure. Vines draped over every nook and cranny of the strange building.

“The door is over here.” Adrien pulled back the vines slowly. “You first.”

I took it one slow step at a time.

The door creaked loudly, echoing through the whole forest.

The animal growled, lunging forward.

Adrien shoved me through, his body following mine against the massive brown doors he threw himself against.

My lungs beat in my ribs as I collapsed against the safety of the other side. “We made it,” I gasped.

Adrien shook his head, sweat trickling down his temple. “What is this place?”

“I dunno.” He walked away from the door, wincing as the creature outside barked. “Looks kind of like a church to me.”

My eyes drifted to the large glass panels, chunks of colored glass missing from the picture.

Not one pew faced the same direction. Some stood straight, while others lay at crooked angles or upside down. A trail of muddy animal tracks wound down the aisle, peeping behind the pulpit.

“How long do you think it’s been hidden like this?”

Adrien’s fingers traced the ivory curtains hanging ragged from the sagging ceiling. “Too long.”

“It’s a shame; it looks like it was beautiful once.”

“You’re right about that,” a gruff voice boomed from the shadows.

I yelped and jumped back, but misjudged my step and slipped on the water dripping from the roof. My feet rose over my head, and then it all went dark.

The Hidden Church Revealed

You wouldn’t ever know it was there–unless you knew what you were looking for. A very skillful glamor had been placed on it. Sitting on the corner of the street, at one time it had been a bold and beautiful church, a tall spire rising proudly into the sky, the bell faithfully tolling the start of service every Sunday morning, Sunday evening, and Wednesday night, special occasions, and even just to call the town for announcements and news. The grounds had been well kept and the town took pride in their church, ensuring the brick was solid, the doors maintained with a fresh coat of paint and the hinges well-oiled, and the stained glass was always sparkling! 

But that had been years ago. Now, the casual passerby didn’t even cast a second glance at it. If they did happen to stop to take a look, they would see a plain brick building with a closed sign on the front, appearing to be a defunct store falling into disrepair. The glamor was skillfully done, but the strength of it came from leaning into what was already true. It was, after all, a brick church, the glamor just suggested it was a brick store front, instead. It was no longer the well-kept pride of the town, but a faded relic of a bygone era. The paint on the front doors was dirty and peeling. The lawn was mowed, but many of the decorative flowers and bushes had become overgrown. The bell had been silent for years. Oh, it was still there. But its voice was silenced, to avoid drawing unwanted attention and risking the glamor breaking. 

People still attended, though it was a much smaller crowd and most stole in furtively, each under their own glamor to avoid recognition. Though some rare individuals had significant talent and skill in glamoring, everyone had some small ability. One was able to change her hair with a flick of her wrist. She always arrived with long dark hair pulled slightly over her face, though the rest of the week she was a blond with it styled back. Another managed to age her appearance several decades whenever she slipped into the back pew, her siblings would never have thought to look close to recognize her. There was a family with a number of young children who would cast a glamor that caused the kids to appear as kittens to the unobservant, and another family with a couple older kids who made them appear to be dogs until they were safely inside the church. And so it went. Once inside some might drop their glamor, others would not, and after a quick service and brief mingling they would all go their separate ways, ducking out and turning into strangers once more. 

But then one Sunday morning the stranger came to town. He strolled down the street and his piercing blue eyes didn’t seem to miss much. He stopped right in front of the glamored church and looked at it, really looked at it, and you just knew he wasn’t seeing the glamor, he was seeing it for what it was. He stepped up to the door, boldly, and strolled in. 

He sat in the pew and sang the songs. He shook hands during the greeting time. He listened to the sermon. And then, just before the benediction, he raised his hand. The preacher, a little surprised and taken aback, paused and looked at him. 

“May I ask a question?” The stranger asked.

The preacher gave him leave and the stranger began to gently challenge the preacher and the congregation as well, thanking them for their welcome, but asking why they stayed hidden. He called out the glamor not just on the church building but on the individuals as well. Were they ashamed? Scared? Had they not read the holy scriptures enough to be reminded that we are not to fear man, but God, who can destroy both body and soul? That if we deny Christ on earth then He would deny us in heaven? He asked these gently, though he still spoke passionately. Something about him was captivating and compelling and though one or two left while he spoke, the majority stayed, some to listen, some to answer and push back. But slowly, one by one, people began to truly and completely drop their glamor, and not just the one they used when they stole into the church, but the ones they used around town, as well, resolving to not hide who they were any longer. And as they each dropped their own glamor, they looked around the church they were in and looked back at each other. The stained glass was cleaned and polished until beautiful colors danced across the room. Plans were made to trim back the hedges and paint the door. And before they all left, someone walked to the bell pull and, with a deep breath and one last look back at the rest for confirmation, gave a great big pull. And with the first peel of the bell the glamor shivered. With the second, it shuttered. And with the third it shattered, revealing once again to all the town church on the corner.