That Stings

Another summer week slipped by.  The weather reports have been a bit gloom and doom compared to what’s actually occurred so we had a pleasant excursion on the boat Saturday.  It’s possible that we even toasted marshmallows on the beach so close to the water that when the wake came in it splashed out the lower section of our heat source.

That Stings
By Jon Stark; July, 2014.

Tommy poked at the back of the pew in front of him.  He traced the scrollwork down to the book rack and then along the top of the hymnal.  Somewhere, far, far away, words were being flung toward him, important words, but that washed over him.

Lift up a signal flag toward Zion.  Run for cover!  Don’t stand still!  For I am brining disaster from the north – a great destruction.

Tommy’s mother nodded her head.  Tommy’s father stared straight ahead.  Tommy slipped from the pew to the floor.  The gum was still were it was last week.  And the month before.  Mrs. Tornafioraro’s feet smelled.  But it was quieter.

A lion has gone up from his thicket; a destroyer of nations has set out.  He has left his lair to make your land a waste.  Your cities will be reduced to uninhabited ruins.

There was a hole in the carpet that hadn’t been there before.  Tommy poked at it.  It went down into the wood.  It was deep.  His finger got stuck partway down and he felt a sliver pricking into him.  He looked up and saw that his parents were still not paying any mind.  Very slowly he reached for a pencil from the book rack.  With the patience of a safe cracker he pulled it out and down to the hole.  He looked carefully at it, then inserted the pencil.

“On that day” – this is the Lord’s declaration – “the king and the officials will lose their courage.  The priests will tremble in fear, and the prophets will be scared speechless.”

Tommy pushed the pencil down.  He felt a little resistance and pushed harder.  There was something down there.  He felt a slight vibration in the pencil was pretty sure that the droning he heard wasn’t the preacher.

He watched a vespula climb up the pencil.  It stared at him with its compound eyes.  He stared back.  It seemed to multiply as Tommy watched it.  Where there had been one he now saw twenty and they all stared and it was loud.

They have her surrounded like those who guard a field, because she has rebelled against Me.  This is the Lord’s declaration.  Your way of life and your actions have brought this on you.  This is your punishment.  It is very bitter, because it has reached your heart!

The vespula flew at Tommy and he screamed.  They stung and where there had been twenty there were now a hundred.  His parents turned to hush him and then screamed too.  A vast cloud of yellow and black swarmed from the hole in the floor and consumed the congregation.  At the front of the sanctuary, stuffy old men stared back in condescension that quickly turned to fear, then panic, then terror.

My anguish, my anguish!  I write in agony!  Oh, the pain in my heart!

The doors burst open and the faithful, now swollen and crying out, erupted into the sunshine.  Tommy lead the throng with his parents close behind.  “Thomas J. Sennett!” said his father.  “How many times do I have to tell you not disturb church?”

“Leave him alone.” said his mother.  “And keep your voice down before someone notices we’ve gone to our car.”