It was if time froze and the silence was chilling as she stepped through those church doors and began walking down the aisle, her pace was slow and deliberate, she held her head low, sneaking looks as she passed by each pew. She was all dressed in black, a long laced transparent gown with a small trail, an equally long sheer chiffon veil, but she wore bright red lipstick. It was if she was dressed for a funeral, considering her “life style” maybe she was, ours.
All prayers, the choir singing hymns, the organist, the priest, just stopped to watch her as she finally approached the alter, knelt, and seemingly mumbled what was some sort of prayer, the question was was it a prayer or some sort of curse. After “reciting” a brief prayer she performed the usual ritual of crossing her heart, she turned around facing the congregation and gave a shy smile, or was it a smirk.
She walked just as slow and purposeful up the aisle as she did walking down. All eyes focused upon her movements as she paraded up the aisle and out those church doors.