The week had passed, and I had a few job leads: one as a column writer and another with a publisher in Neo Vista Alpha. I, of course, had to ditch the pseudonym and just go by my own name, Seren Hawthorne. I wanted to take full responsibility for anything I published and didn't want to hide in the shadows anymore. The news reported about the false accusations against Nyla Sable, and she was immediately cast in a movie role as the leading lady — some sort of apology for her treatment, I guess. They talked about Elysia’s death, my death, really, and how it should be a lesson to anyone out there thinking of disturbing the peace with wild tales. Little did they know Red Fall was planning on launching soon, and Elysia would be remembered as a heroine of humanity that had been ignored. Earl was back to his usual self, still on the renal care food, but his stitches had fully healed, and he was bouncing around, chasing his toy mouse.
It was Sunday morning, and I was getting dressed to go to church. I seldom wore dresses, but I had one that was a piece of history; it was a hundred years old but still looked new. It was a powder blue A-line dress with what they called a wasp waist, and it had petticoats underneath to give the skirting its fullness. It grazed mid-calf and came with delicate white gloves. I steamed the pleats of the dress and sprayed it with starch to give it that stiffness that was popular at the time. I had bought it from a vintage store when I was going to college and taking history classes. I was drawn to that era for its simplicity — a time before technology, before Red Fall, and a time full of roses. When the world used to be beautiful.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror and twirled, watching the dress pleats spin. Earl looked up at me in approval. I knelt and patted his head, picked up his toy mouse, and tossed it across the room as he bounded after it. I put on a pair of white heels and headed out to walk toward the church. I did not wear heels often and wobbled a bit. I repeated "heel toe, heel toe" in my head and fixed my stride. I saw the church in the distance, and the parking lot was full.
I saw the elders in their best clothes walking arm in arm across the lot, the middle-aged parents quietly bickering while their teenagers lagged giggling, and a few small children running around the lot while new parents wrangled them and picked them up, taking them inside. I followed the crowd into the church and found my seat in the front pew with the elders. I crossed my legs and folded my hands on my knee. It felt good to be here of my own volition. I looked up at the statue of Jesus, keeping the ChronoSavior safe in his robes, and silently thanked him.
The pastor walked up to the podium with his large bible with the gilded pages and placed it on the stand. I saw Daniel trailing behind him with a lighted candle, which he placed in the holder on the podium. He looked out into the crowd, scanning for me, and did a double-take when he spotted me, then smiled and waved. The pastor noticed Daniel's behavior and looked at me and nodded. He opened the bible and cleared his throat. The flock quieted down, and the room fell silent. Daniel stood next to the pastor. The sermon started.
“Today, I want to talk about hope. Hope is that tiny spark within us that refuses to be extinguished, no matter how dark the world may seem. It’s the belief that tomorrow can be better than today, despite the challenges we face. Just as it says in the book of Jeremiah, chapter 29, verse 11: ‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’ Hope is what drives us when everything around us feels bleak. It is what gives us strength in the face of adversity. So let us hold onto hope tightly and nurture it within ourselves and share it with the world. Hope is intrinsically linked to faith, for it is through faith that we can envision the fulfillment of God’s promises, even when they seem invisible. Hope is an anchor that reassures us that no matter how tumultuous the storms of life may be, we can remain steadfast in our faith. I shall leave you with the words of the prophet Jeremiah, chapter 17, verse 7: ‘But blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in him.’ May we be blessed by our trust and confidence in the God of hope, who sustains us through every season of life. May we be filled with the hope that comes from above, and may it overflow from us, bringing joy and peace to those around us. Amen.”
“Amen” rang out through the church. The pastor stepped down from the podium, and Daniel blew out the candle and ran over to me. “I am glad to see you kept your promise,” he said, smiling. “I am glad I am here, too.” We chatted for a bit, and he introduced me to his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Chadsworth, both of whom were teachers at Providence Peak Christian High School. They had heard a lot about me. We walked around to the roses that had sprouted a few inches higher. The pastor joined us, having noted my interest in the garden. He asked if I would like to work for the church as a caretaker of the garden. The pay would be modest, but he would really like someone with my passion to bring the garden back to life. He told me about the picnics and gatherings that had taken place back here when his wife was alive, but since her passing, the garden had become overgrown and unused. I agreed to take the job and shook his hand. Mrs. Chadsworth suggested that Daniel should help me and earn credits for his horticultural science class. We spent the afternoon exchanging stories, and once the conversational lull hit, we all departed home.
The sky began to cloud over, and I picked up my pace as I did not want to get my lovely vintage dress wet with sullied rainwater. I made it home before the clouds opened in a loud thunderous boom and walked into my apartment to see Earl unfazed by the storm, sleeping on my bed. My phone was blinking from a message left by an unknown caller. I figured it might have been from one of my job prospects and played the message. It was Cypher; his voice was crackling as if he had used a signal scrambler to reach me.
“Hey Seren, they have the launch day scheduled the third day of the third month at three o’clock post meridiem…” I dropped my phone as the message continued to play and ran to the church, in my dress, in the rain.
Oh boy! So much to unpack here. I really loved the vintage, meaning normal, look she adopted and the church scene. More, the regeneration theme is well implemented here with the garden/roses as a writing vista.