Stories Storyteller

Sunday Morning Mass

Sunday Morning Mass

Through de small city, you can hear de church bells ringing, Dong, dong, dong. Its Sunday morning, time to put on me Sunday best, yes mon, see me wid me shiny shoes, de crease in me pants pressed wid an edge so sharp it would cut de priest if he hug me too hard. Me shirt so white it could make you go blind when it reflected off the sun. This was no ordinary shirt, nooo, it was long sleeves with ruffles at the end of the sleeves, and ruffles down the front of it making it hard to button up. Yes mon, I look like Sir Walter Raleigh with an afro. So here I was, walking de streets of St Georges, holding Mommy Charles hand, de morning sun beating down on me.
We got to de church, little old ladies wid white robes on, covered all over except for dey wrinkled faces, Nuns always made me uneasy. Other families dressed to de T, laughter, smiling, talking. We entered de church, dipped we hands in holy water, did de sign of de cross, never understood why. De church was packed, even De Prime Minister was in attendance. We made we way down to the frount of the church, Mommy Charles always like to be front and center on Mass day. De Nunman walked out, well dat is what I called de priest and dem, followed by some Acolytes (Alter Boys). We used to call dem Acolblites. He got to de pulpit, mumbled something in a language I could not understand, when he was done, everybody said Amen, even though I knew dey did not understand a thing he said. De Nunman mumbled for a few minutes more, making we, stand up, sit down, stand up, sit down. Den for what seemed like hours, he talked and talked and talked. Sometimes he broke out into a sing song voice that sounded more like a scary movie. He stopped for a while as people walked up to de alter, kneeled before him, opened dey mouth and he placed a white piece of something on dey tongue. When all was feed, he went back to his sing song voice. It echoed through de church sometimes interrupted by a cough, or a baby crying. Den suddenly it was over, well suddenly because I had fallen asleep. We got up and everybody filed out of the church to de sounds of the church bells, dong, dong, dong. De sun hit me and I woke up completely. I jumped down de church stairs. You have never seen such a happy eight year old. I was free, no more Nunmen, no more frightening old ladies with robes on. Now I can go play some cricket, or go to the beach. After all its Sunday, funday. I danced and skipped all the way home. A child emancipated.

By Bombastic Nation

Me name is Anderson A Charles. I am a writer story teller and Podcaster, the original Steve urkel, yes I did that. Also played basketball in college ( that's because I am seven feet tall.

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