All Hallow’s Eve

We didn’t get to do Halloween, because it’s pagan, but because it was on a Sunday this year, we put on a big show after church.

We didn’t have a stage, so we put it on in the sanctuary, and got to go back behind the alter. I always wondered what was back there, but it just turned out to be a hall for offices. The deacon let me use his office for a dressing room, since I was the only girl, but there’s not a whole lot of female saints, and martyrs.

So, I dressed up, and went out to the stage. They moved the alter, so I could step up to the microphone, and say: “I’m Wilgefortis Uncumber, and I was supposed to marry a Muslim. I prayed to God that He would make me ugly, so I grew a beard overnight, and that was my miracle. Then, my father had me crucified.”

I let go of my fake beard, and spread my arms, so they covered up Jesuses on the cross, then bowed. “Thank you,” it took me a month to memorize that, but I think I got it all right. I backed up behind the door on the left. There was another one on the right of the crucifixion, but the Deacon held the door for me, so I didn’t have to get it, and I went back to his office to change.

“Huhah.” he chuckled, “It would take a lot more than a beard to make you look hideous.” He held the door to his office, and I didn’t mean to be rude, but I took it off with the wig. It was all 1 piece, like a santa claus beard, we cut short, and dyed brown. “Of course, you’re even prettier without it.”

“Thank you, but could you close the door? I have to change.”

“I hope you don’t change too much.” I heard him close the door, so I pulled the dress up over my head. I didn’t have very long to get ready for my second Saint. Not in Alphabetical order, obviously, but being the only actress ment I had to memorize all the women who’re Saints, or Martyrs.

“I’m Saint Brigid,” I turned my notes around to read, “Of Kildaire.” Pulling out the blonde wig, I pulled it on, and read. “I was once a pagan,” [Drop the hammer] “but then Saint Patrick came, and saved me. I was the Goddess of the hearth and forge, but now I’m the patron saint of Poets, and Singers.”

“Huhaheh.” I froze up when the deacon came up behind me, and rubbed my arms. “She sounds like the Celtic Thor.”

“Well, she’s not.” I shrugged. “Didn’t you study all the saints to become a deacon?” He felt up to my bra straps, and I thought for sure he would try to slip them down off my shoulders, but he pulled the dress out from the Brigid box, and let me go.

So, I could take it over to the corner, and put it on. In my underwear, the wig was long, so it got caught in the zipper, and slipped down my back. I felt a little uncomfortable, with him in there, but it was his office, and all of a sudden I needed his help.

“Huhah,” He held up Brigid’s Hammer. “See? She’s got a hammer like Thor.”

I shook my head, “That’s the pagan Brigid, and it symbolizes her conversion to Christianity.” I bit my lip, and tried to yank the wig out of the zipper, but it wouldn’t come out. “Um, could you put that down, and help me with my zipper?”

“Well, it looks a lot like Mjolnir. Not in the Marvel movies, nor even in the comic books, but the real Mjolnir.”

“Well, there’s no such thing as the real Mjolnir, it’s just a myth.”

“Well,” he finally untangled the wig, without feeling my bra strap, “Of course not, but it symbolizes strength, while the hearth is a more feminine aspect.” He zipped up the back, without even trying to touch me, and I told myself I was just imagining him, trying to put the moves on me. “That’s a lot to learn for someone so young.”

“Well, let me practice my lines.” I went over, and took the scroll out of the box. The last thing in there, he held up a mirror for me to check my hair. I tore the sheet out of my notebook, and waited in the hallway for the organ music to change.

“…4, 3, 2, 1.” Give Patrick a chance to leave the stage, through the other door, and go out. Holding up Brigid’s Hammer, and say. “I’m Saint Brigid, I. Um. I was once a pagan, but then Saint Patrick saved me.” Patrick wanted to play Saint Patrick, of course. Even though he’s not Irish at all, and me neither. Patrick Norman, “But I.” I dropped the hammer, by accident, because I forgot to do it on queue, and rolled the scroll open to read. “Huh, but now I’m the patron saint of poets, and singers.”

Stupid, I had the scroll right there to remind me that she’s the patron saint of Poetry. I was just thinking that would remind me, so I could unroll the scroll and read the rest off my notes, but then I got distracted, thinking about a boy.

“You’re almost a teenager.” The Deacon was sitting at his desk, so I shook my head. “Go ahead, and close the door.”

“I’m already 13.”

“Oh, I thought your birthday was Christmas Eve. Isn’t that why your parents named you Eve?”

“No, you’re thinking of Eve Jenkins, they named me after Adam and Eve.”

“My mistake,” he spread his hands. “Still, it’s pretty impressive to learn all that before you start high school, so you must be a very talented actress. I’m interested to see who you’ll change into next.”

“Uh!” I checked my scroll, which was still unrolled, but “I think I dropped my notes. Oh, no.” I opened up the door, to check if they fell in the hall, but “I must’ve dropped them on the stage!”

“It’s all right,” he came to the door, and took my hand. Pulling me back into his office, “Maybe I can help you figure it out.” He picked another box up, to read it. “Saint Anne?”

“I don’t know!” I ran back to my notebook, where I tore the page out. “No, that’s the big finale with Joachim, Mary, Joseph, and Jesus.” I traced through all the female Christian Saints, and Martyrs, looking back, and forth to try, and see which ones were missing, but I was getting desperate, and panicing.

“I better help you,” he took my wig off, and dropped it in the Brigid box. Then, he unzipped her dress, and helped me pull it down off my arms to pile up around my feet, so by the time I noticed my bra straps slip down my arms, it was too late.

“Uh!” I grabbed my B cups, and held them up over my breasts. “Don’t look?” I went back to the corner, switching hands to hold one side up with my arm, and slip the strap back up to my shoulder, then the other.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Eve. Especially with such a pretty young body, you know that nudity isn’t actually a sin.”

I shook my head, shivering in the suddenly cold air, in the corner.

“Vanity is a sin, and lust, but that’s not why Adam and Eve were cast out of the garden of Eden. Of course, Original Sin wasn’t nudity, huhah!” He did that fake sounding chuckle of his, “Because clothes don’t grow on trees. Of course, if God had wanted to, He could have made a tree of underwear, too. You’ve got such pretty underwear.”

“Get out, and leave me alone, you creep! Pervert, leave now, or I’ll tell everyone in the whole church they’ve got a child molester.”

“I’m not a child molester, this is all just a misunderstanding, I can explain.”

“You can explain it to the.” Acolyte, Priest, Deacon… “Bishop after you get out, and let me get dressed!” I hope he gets excommunicated for heresy, and arrested, and raped by big black men in prison, and killed, and not martyred. I wished they still had Birching, drawing, and quartering would be too good for him, he should be put up front in a pillion, and have Lecher branded on his forehead as a warning, and example for dirty old men like him that just get into the church to get young girls like me alone in our underwear.

“All right, okay, calm down. I can see that you’re upset,” he backed away to the door, “This is all just a misunderstanding, but you have to change.”

I looked back when I didn’t hear the door shut, but he winked with a dirty grin before he shut it.

“Don’t change too much.”

;

Author

I believe the rules are Trick OR Treat. Not every story has a happy ending, and obviously. Not every young girl gets knocked up by her brother, father, and uncles.

If they did, we’d go extinct. Happy All Saint’s Day, you fucking perverts.

😉

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