Charlotte Chalk is made of Chalk
Out in the rain, she cannot walk
For Charlotte Chalk is made of Chalk
These words echoed in her head. A childhood taunt that was nothing more, really, than a play on that silly name. No, not silly. It was the children who were silly and what felt like an unbearable cruelty to her, as a young girl, was nothing more than a silly game to them. Nevertheless, she did hate the rain. And she hated it as a child as well. There was some basis to the taunt beyond the name. Funny, because when she thinks back on her life as a young girl in this picturesque little town, she can’t think of too many days that weren’t sunny and when the rains would come they were soft and steady and just as enough rain had fallen it seemed, they would pack up and move gently on. These days though, the rains were a regular occurrence, stormy and violent, they would flood the streets, flood the fields and damage crops. Just one of the things that made her feel that this place wasn’t much like the little town it used to be.
She pulled the curtains aside and peered out the window. Another grey drizzly day. She picked up the book that was sitting on the table by the door and stuffed it into the inside pocket of the big clumsy overcoat that she never seemed to be without these days. She grabbed her umbrella and headed out the door.
She walked down the wet sidewalks zigzagging to avoid the puddles. The town was quiet on this early Saturday morning. Just the sound of the rain and wind as she hurried towards the old church pursued by a bitter chill that seemed to want to find it’s way inside her overcoat. She skipped up the steps and pulled open the great door. She hadn’t been to a Sunday service in years but she liked to duck in at times when she knew the place would be empty and take it all in, in her own way, observing her own rituals.
Silence of the Order
Silence is the order I am assigned
Words do not belong
To your tongue
Like the roads I travel
solemn and silent
Elsewhere without cordially
Silence is the order
Bury me deep.
Cathedral bones speak
To hear me.
Do not speak.
Between the roads
by the middle ground
[lyrics by Pickle Blossom, music by tonguecutsparrow]
Created: Nov 22, 2010moonbug Document Media