Nights at the Pump - Chapter 1 Orman Krasner

Chapter 1

He carried his six foot four inch frame with purpose. Yet, the furtive looks and close shouldered hunch gave him a peregrine air. He never arrived by car that we could see. He seemed to just be there suddenly, walking toward the side door of the house. The door that had the broken glass. And  no matter what we were doing we would stop and watch him until he entered the house. And he always paused just slightly, raised his head a bit and looked across the street at each of us. There was no hint of expression, just a lifeless peer that seemed to drop the temperature ten degrees.

At the time we had no idea what part he played in the workings of the church. His dress supposed a cleric. The suit and shoes were black as was his wide brimmed hat. We often commented that he must have a cape because, while we never saw one, it seemed to be missing.

What was remarkable was Arianne's reaction. She would freeze. She was always first to see him and immediately would stop moving. She would not  move a muscle or say a word until he was in the building. Then, she would shudder.

Arianne was a red head. She had skin like alabaster and eyes that were as green as Hibernian spring. She had a fearless disposition and always sought to manage the events of the day and control all of the activities. So it seemed odd the way she behaved when the strange man came to the Church of Spiritual Holiness and Mystic Missions. Perhaps it was she who set the tone for this strange adventure but all of of were mesmerized when his advance on the church began.

But what was even more troubling was the congregation.

To be continued....

©Herb Ratliff, October 23, 2012, All Rights Reserved