Sunday

 

This is what is normally referred to as a short short story, or a one-page
story.  Hopefully you will enjoy it, first of all, and I hope it will serve as an
introduction to my writing.

Sunday, a day of rest.  Twelve year old Eldon sat at a spinet piano, beneath an autumn landscape print.  He struggled through the theme song from Romeo and Juliet, his spidery fingers fumbling.  His father came into the room, sat and reached down to lace shining black wing tip shoes. Church bells tolled, devouring the silence, as his mother and father prepared for the nine forty-five mass.
    His father's after shave filled the room and Eldon heard him hum along with the tune.
    Aren't you going to church with your mother and I?  his father asked, talking to the floor.  Eldon did not turn around, surprised by a question rather than a command.
     No.
    A stillness settled boldly upon the room.  Eldon's eyes were drawn to the framed print above the piano, a wide forest pathway of brilliant Autumn colors that drew him far into the painting.
 Since when have you turned atheist?  Eldon’s mother asked, standing erect in the hallway, working hand lotion into lined palms.
   I don't believe in it, he said.  Eldon watched his mother's eyes narrow and stonily turn her attention to a pair of white gloves.  Eldon's father said nothing, thinking of the many Sunday mornings he had excused himself from mass with a headache.
    We'll pray for you then.
    Eldon watched them leave the house.  A pang of regret settled.  But he stayed on the piano bench, laid both arms lengthwise along the piano keys and pushed hard.  A hideous, mangled howl echoed briefly in the room.