The Church Jack sat alone in the large church, wondering how long it would be until he would be joined by anyone else. It was at this point that Jack began to remember that he couldn't remember how he had come to be in the church. All he did know was that he was incredibly lonesome. Jack looked around again for the fiftieth time, trying desperately to recognize or notice something new. He glanced over the tall ceilings of the obviously gothic church; looked up to where the alter should be, hoping to actually see something this time. The alter was curiously non-holy. Jack noticed that there were no crosses, no crucifixes, not even a menorah. What kind of church was this he wondered. He looked to the stained-glass window, at the design on it, but still could not recognize anything in the massive piece of art. What struck Jack as strange about the piece was that all the light coming through seemed to be crimson, even in the areas that seemed to be green or yellow. Jack looked at the floor again, hoping that at least something would be there, instead of his bare feet. Why are my feet bare? The thought, even though it was a thought, seemed to echo through the church. This was the first time that Jack had noticed it. As strange as it was, strange that he hadn't noticed before, it was at least something new to think about. Why in the hell are my feet bare? "Why in the hell are my feet bare?" he said aloud. His voice actually echoed this time. It felt good to him. He was sick of being quiet. He had been quiet the whole time he had been in the church, however long that had been. Jack couldn't remember. "Where the hell are my shoes, why is there no one here, and how long have I been here?" The words bounced off of every pew, every arch and every wall. It felt good to say those things aloud. Not that it helped answer any of those questions, but the echo distracted him from the overwhelming sense of isolation that was beginning to creep into his mind. "And why the hell is it so damn cold in here?" he screamed. He had dealt with that question earlier, but it was now getting annoying. He had originally thought that the temperature wouldn't matter because he would be leaving soon and that he shouldn't be such a whiner. He looked around again, hoping that his surroundings had changed in the last five minutes. Jack couldn't be sure how long it was since he last looked around, but in his mind, five minutes seemed to be exactly what it was. He thought to look behind him. For some reason, probably from years of being told to face front by his mother in church, he had only looked to the sides and at the front, not even considering to be so rude as to look behind. It was at the back of the church that Jack made a rather disturbing observation. There was no door to this church. "Where the fuck is the door?" he said rather loudly. For a moment, he thought back to all the movies he had seen in his life. The character says or does something that would be ridiculous, if it weren't for the fact that it was a movie, and there was an audience watching. "Why am I speaking in an aside?" he thought to himself. He realized that he wasn't an actor in a movie, then he realized that he was asking no one a question, then he realized that he was completely off the subject with all this damn movie thinking. Jack shook his head, felt embarrassed, then felt stupid for being embarrassed, because there was no one to see what he did. "Dammit, stop think about this stupid stuff." Where exactly the door was was the question he wanted to get back to. Jack decided that he should go look around. If he was ever to leave this place, there had damn-well better be a door. As he stood up, he moved one of his feet, and was then aware how cold the floor actually was. The spots that he had kept his feet in were now just moisture outlines, evaporating in the cold air. The floor was so cold, that Jack debated for a second on whether or not it was worth investigating where the door was. He decided it was and headed to the back of the church. As he walked back to where he felt the door should have been, he wondered why he insisted on calling this building a church. Besides being rather large and having that overbearing feeling, there was nothing to indicate that this was a church. He decided again that it must be a church, based largely on the stained glass window. Still, the subject matter of the window was still lost on him.. When he got to the back of the church he stopped. As he had assumed, there was no door on closer inspection. Again, a feeling of stupidity came to him. He realized that there was nothing he could do and that he had had no plan when he got up and decided to come back here. The feeling of stupidity made him feel even more alone because he realized that there was no one to be stupid in front of. Jack was dumbfounded. He walked across the cold floor back to his pew. He assumed it was his, not being able to tell one from another. The seat was cold, and if he had infused any heat into the floor, it was long gone in the giant building; church he thought, just for some comfort. He started to wonder why he wasn't worried about the fact that it seemed like he was trapped in the giant 'church.' He wished at that moment that there was anybody there to talk to about all this. He just wished that he could discuss the situation, bad as it was. Talking about it might make him feel better about being trapped. Not that he was especially feeling bad about it. He was more concerned with the feeling of loneliness that had started to overtake his mind. If he could just have someone there to talk to. As if his thought were the cue for what happened next, a man sat down next to him. Jack was startled that he had let this person creep up on him. How could he have not heard or ever felt this person coming? Jack felt like the man had materialized in stride right behind the pew that he was sitting in. "Cold in here isn't it?" the man said. Not 'hello', not 'what are you doing here', not even 'can I help you'; the man had found the singly most annoying way to strike up a conversation with Jack. It was like those people who walk around on extremely hot days saying that it isn't the heat, it's the humidity. Not only were the first words out of the stranger's mouth annoying, but Jack felt generally annoyed with his presence. That was in stark contrast to the feeling of loneliness that had gripped him moments before. Was this some grand twist of irony that the first person he saw instantly annoyed him and made him wish for the return to solitude? The man was dressed all in black, from head to toe. This instantly was what had annoyed him he thought. Jack had always loathed those people who felt that they were making some big, dark, meaningful statement by dressing all in black and acting all moody. He wondered if the irony they lived in was lost on them. Jack always found it funny that not only were these people not alone in their statements of individuality, but that there were making some big fashion mogul very rich. These cloths and accessories that they chose to wear, to flaunt their uniqueness, were all mass-produced on an assembly line. For every pair of black boots they bought, there were literally thousands of people who had them. Also, the man had sat down without being asked. Jack had always considered himself an expert on personal space, and liked to guard his at every chance. Not to mention the fact that Jack, although he would never admit it, was a homophobe, and the thought of another man sitting as close to him as this one did, bothered him to no end. The man's haircut was one that Jack might have said was a little "fruity"; a word that homophobes like to use and then say it isn't derogatory. Everyone knows what is meant when people say, and most people take it as an insult, which it is usually intended to be. The man's haircut also annoyed Jack. "Cold in here, isn't it?" the man repeated. There was not that sense of insistence that Jack answer his question; Jack had expected that, seeing as how he had ignored his first comment. "Sure is", Jack replied lamely. As much as Jack wondered where this man came from or what he wanted, he would have preferred not to talk to him. He hoped, as unrealistically as he knew it was, that the man would get up and leave. The fact that he had apparently materialized out of nothing was of little consequence. Hell, if he appeared so suddenly, he could just as well 'un-appear' his way out of Jack's presence. Jack wondered if his thinking this way was arrogant, but wanted the man gone so much that he just didn't care. "Have you been here long?" the man asked. It was the type of moronic question that one trying to avoid conversation hates to hear. It was the type of question that one hears in the airport or on a city bus. Some nosy asshole trying to start up a conversation with someone else whose time is too precious to be wasted talking to simpletons. Questions like 'Where do you go to college?', 'Where are you headed off to?', and 'So, what do you do for a living?' also fall into that category; so too do questions concerning the temperature and or weather. "I'm not really sure how long I've been here," said Jack in that tone that he was sure that would get the point across that he'd rather not get into anything right now. "That's strange. You mean you don't know when you got here, or you're just not sure the amount of time that you've been here, or both?" "I'm not really sure which, I guess all of that." Jack was lucky that anything had come out of his mouth at all. He was dumbfounded at the question. What would make the man ask if Jack wasn't sure about when he got here? The question left a bad feeling in the pit of Jack's stomach. He thought it funny that if this were a story, he would have pegged it for foreshadowing. "Well, my name's Sam, what's yours?" It was interesting that he had not chosen to continue any of the other questions. That just made it more obvious to Jack that they weren't real questions at all, just conversation starters. "My name is Jack. Look, not to be rude, but I'm not sure what to make of you. I mean, you've kinda taken me by surprise, and in all honesty, you make me feel a little uncomfortable." Jack had never been so honest in his entire life. Under any other circumstances, he would have made up some excuse as to why he couldn't get into a conversation, or would have simply lied his way into leaving. Unfortunately, there was no place to go. Plus, this Sam was so annoying to Jack that he didn't care one bit about hurting his feelings. "Well, let me apologize. I guess I didn't realize that you would be uncomfortable. I was just looking to talk to you. You see, it's kinda my job to do stuff like this." "Stuff like what?," Jack asked. He wasn't sure if he hadn't understood him because he wasn't listening or if Sam's question just didn't make sense. "Oh you know, just stuff. Look never mind. I just wanted to start up a conversation. I have been kinda bored for a long time now, and I just thought that you could use someone to talk to. I understand that I can be a little much. Am I annoying you?" "YES!!" Jack was sure if he thought it hard enough, Sam would understand. Instead, he slipped into his normal mode of little to no confrontation through lies. "Naw you don't bother me. I guess I'm just a little out of sorts. I suppose if you want to talk, I don't care." The second the words left his mouth, he wanted them back. Jack hoped the phrasing of the response, the hint that a conversation with him was work, that Sam wouldn't take him up on his offer. At the same time, he knew someone this annoying wouldn't catch onto that little nuance. Of course not, he wouldn't be annoying if he did. "Great, what should we talk about? Hows about religion?" Jack couldn't believe that this was the first thing that Sam had chosen to talk about. He also was a little amazed at how quickly he had assimilated Sam's name. Why, of all the things in the world there are to talk about, would this idiot choose religion. The only thing Jack could think of that would be more touchy was sexual orientation. He only thought this because he was a closet homophobe. At this point, Jack would have rather talked about the temperature of the church. "Let's instead talk about the fact that there is no door to this church and the fact that you got in here anyway." "Oh, well, I can come and go from here as I please." "What? How? I can't find a way in or out of this place." "Well, how did you get in? Can't you just go back out that way?" "I don't know how I got in here." Just as he said it, Jack realized that he really didn't know how he had gotten into the church. He had no idea what the outside looked like, remembered no door, and besides the window, was unaware of any hole in any of the walls. The window then took precedent in his thoughts for a second. What the hell was that design? It was a little creepy the more he thought about it. What it seemed to be to him was a giant eye looking down at him. Unfortunately that didn't make any sense. Not that he expected it to. Nothing about this whole experience made any sense. He was brought back to the conversation by Sam's next question. "Do you know why you aren't wearing any shoes? It seems awfully cold to be running around barefoot." "You know what, I don't have any frickin idea why I don't have any shoes on. Can we just stop for a second? Where in the hell am I?" "Yep." "What? Yep what? Stop being so damn weird. I want to know where I am, how to get out of here, and who you are." "I told you, my name is..." "Yeah, I know you're fuckin' name. I want to know who you are, besides your name." "I suggest you settle down. You are suffering from an extreme case of misconception. Most people in the world are. Do you know what I mean. People think they know all there is to know about something when in reality, they have no clue as to what they are talking about. People assume to know about things they have never experienced." Jack was beyond confused at this point. He felt like he was being drowned. There seemed to be nothing he could do about anything. To compound everything that Jack was feeling, he still felt alone. This was strange, because alone was the one thing he most certainly was not. He wondered why the addition of Sam to this episode hadn't quelled the feelings of isolation. It was like Sam wasn't even there. He had never felt anything like this. Here he was, sitting next to a person, talking to and arguing with him, yet he felt completely alone. Plus, why was Sam continually changing subject matters. Why in the hell was he talking about misconception. "What do you mean I'm suffering from misconception? What does that have to do with anything? Who are you?" "You're kind of arrogant, aren't you? You think you're way too good to be talking to me right now, don't you?" "What? What the hell is the matter with you? Who are you to call me arrogant? You have no right to judge me." Jack couldn't think of a time in his life when he had been so offended. "Why can't I judge you? People do it all the time. They may not know they're doing it, or they may rationalize it off as describing someone. Man, the number of times I've heard that one. People think that calling someone something mean is a description of them. People really need to wise-up. All this judging of each other isn't good for them." All Jack could focus on in that little rant was the fact that Sam referred to people as "them." Why wouldn't he use the word "us?" Who the fuck is he? Now who thinks they are better than everyone else? "You know what, let me get back to that little thing about misconceptions. I think that by talking about it, we should be able to clear things up for you." "Nothing you could possibly say could make me feel batter about my situation." "Yeah, I know. That isn't what I said. I said it would clear things up for you. Man, you really are having a hard time with this, aren't you. Well, I guess that's what's supposed to happen." "What are you talking about? What is what supposed to do? You know, you are adding more confusion by the minute. You and this church are the worst thing that has ever happened to me." As Jack came to that particular realization, he was again flooded with that nagging sense of isolation. Sam seemed to be making it worse. "You're full first name is Jackson, right?" "How did you know that?" "My full first name is Samael." "What the hell kinda antique name is that?" "It's an angel name. I'm an angel. Did I forget to mention that?" "YES!! What do you mean you're an angel?" "What do you think I mean? I mean what I said, I'm an angel." "Are all angels as annoying as you?" Jack was surprised with how quickly he had accepted this little wrinkle in his day. Meeting an angel was not what he expected it to be. He was surprisingly calm about it. He had always assumed that people who saw angels were the crazy religious type. Jack was definitely not that. He was of sound mind, and those people were crazy. He wasn't judging them, that was just what they were. "Look, let me just ask you one thing. Do you think you are going to Heaven?" "Yeah, why not?" "What do you think Heaven is like?" The question took Jack by surprise. He had never really contemplated Heaven. He had made jokes, like that Heaven was college football on every channel all the time and every team he wanted to win did. "I have no idea what Heaven is like. Are you gonna tell me?" Jack was then extremely interested in knowing what Heaven was like. He assumed that if an angel was talking to him, he had a pretty good chance of getting in. "Heaven is just like earth. People live their lives much like they did on earth. The only advantage being that there is no pain. Heaven is a pretty great place. Whatever you loved in life is amplified and never gets tiring." "Really? See I always thought Heaven was a bunch of robes, cherubs, clouds and music?" Jack knew he was spitting back all the movie images he had seen in his life, but as he said them, they certainly seemed to make sense. "No. Most people labor under that misconception. It's one of many. Take for example Hell. Did you know that Hell is this overwhelming place that you can't get out of, and you're all alone; plus, Hell is actually cold."
Copyright © 2000 Matthew Tracy |