Southern Gothic: The Church

There are 7 churches between me and Littleton.

Maybe one day I’ll list them.

Maybe I shouldn’t say their names.

Everyday on my way to work I pass the Second Presbyterian Church of Littleton. A small, white building about the size of my bedroom, with about a hundred cars parked around it. No way all those people could fit into that tiny concrete structure.

Maybe it had a basement.

Every Sunday the parking lot would have cars parked, with people milling around enjoying the sunshine or clustered under the tiny awning in front of the door trying to avoid the rain.

Every Wednesday night the same thing would happen. Same as every other church in Littleton. Same as it always is.

But one day I passed by and all the lights were out.

The parking lot was full. More than full, there were cars parked on the road beside the building, in field to left of the Church, but not a single soul in sight.

It was a Friday.

Maybe they were in the basement.