Amen

           Dust filtered through the streams of light from the stained-glass windows and settled onto the pews of the church. A glance around and one could easily determine that the building had been around for decades, maybe even centuries. The wood of the interior was broken and cracked in places, and the sacred books looked too fragile to touch for the fear of destroying them. A whisper could have sent pages from the delicate hymnals scattering about the room.

            It was true, actually. The chapel was hundreds of years old, but services had ended just days earlier. No one was supposed to enter, though the priest in charge of settling old affairs wasn't so concerned with that sort of thing. Still, no one bothered with it anymore except one child, and the only inhabitant was, in fact, the priest himself.

            Startlingly, the large grandfather clock in the front of the church tolled. Once, twice, so on until it reached six chimes and settled down. The pale child kneeled before the altar with her head bowed and her golden brown hair brushing against the side of her face. She was very small, and very frail. Her clothes were formal, resembling a time as old as the building itself. Her white skirt was ornate with frill and soft pink lace that lay fluidly over her petticoat. Large white socks that crinkled a bit around her ankles and matching Mary-Jane shoes. The sleeves of her white collared shirt were a bit too long in that they hid her cold hands, but her lace pink vest brought the oversized top closer to her and made her appear thinner than she was.

            A faint ringing felt still aloft amidst the sanctuary, though the chimes had long since ceased.

            "Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come; thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen."

            The pale girl recited the prayer once, and when she reached the end, she halted, though not to take a breath, and began again.

            "Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come; thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven --"

            A rustling of thick robes from behind the brass organ stirred her from her solemn reverie. What appeared to be a heavy pile of robes clutching a thick, rust ridden chain was shuffling toward her. The trailing cloth left a streak in the layers of dust settled on the dark grey stones, and a voice that was barely a whisper floated to her ears.

            "My child, what do you do here so many hours into the night?"

            She blinked once and looked back at the rustic clock. "But Father, it registers barely ten past six."
            The priest too looked up to the time reflected in the face of the old relic. "So it is!" he replied, as energetically as an ancient such as himself could possibly muster. "No less, service has ceased since the town stopped funding us. You know that as well as I."

            "Yes, Father, I know," the girl responded, with a slight bow of her head.

            "What brings you here then, to this battered old place?"

            "It feels not just to forget about the Lord and his house for a simple lack of funds, if you'll forgive my saying so."

            The elderly man and eloquent girl stood there, unspeaking, for endless moments - she staring at the floor and he only watching.

            "Forgive me. I have spoken out of line."

            "Do not apologize, for you intended no rudeness. What you state is truth, my dear Mary. If only others listened to what a child like yourself has to say.

            "Thank you, Father."

            The heavily robed gentleman gave a noise resembling a soft grunt of acknowledgment and continued to stand. Mary bowed her head again, and closed her eyes to continue her prayer silently. Outside the window, freshly bloomed cherry blossoms fluttered to the ground and mixed with the scent of decayed grass and soil. The darkest of crows picked at a fallen flower and cawed in disappointment, as if it were crying for the death of such a thing.

            The priest turned and dragged his heavy ensemble back to whichever room he had emerged from. Mary finished the last lines of her prayer for the third time, as always, and followed after him. His hand laid lightly on a rusted doorknob, prepared to turn it, and she thrust the hidden dagger into his back.

            "I am the closest to God. I love him more than anyone else, more so even than you. Now, He can focus on me, and he can see all of the time I've dedicated to Him, without people like you in my way."

            As the priest laid, unhearing, on the floor, she bent and tucked his robes neatly underneath him. A mess just wouldn't do, and certainly he wouldn't want his robes to be strewn about so messily. He was truly a good man, simply too close to God for her comfort. To wish him a pleasant journey to the afterlife, she dipped her fingers into the bowl of holy water near the doorway, as they were near every doorway, and dripped it onto his forehead.

            "Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come; thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen."