Starry Night: The Chapel Kid
I was given a prompt to create a character inspired by the painting.
The priests didn’t know her name. Like everyone else in Egordes, they called her the chapel kid. She was always there, sweeping, cleaning, pouring oil into jars, shining door knobs. “Where’s the chapel kid?” “What is the chapel kid doing?” They would ask one another. There were many priests running around, plenty of helpers from the village.
Only one chapel kid, though. No one could recall when she appeared. No one knew where she came from.
On more than one occasion, a priest would suggest sending her to the nearby covent. She could be tended by the sisters and become one herself. The Dean would always say, “Next week maybe. Meanwhile, she can cut sandwiches for everyone.’
The sexton, who called her little miss, ensured that she was fed. She liked stew, no matter the weather.
She lived, as far as folks could tell, in the watchtower. She talked to Mary constantly. She called Mary mama and told the neighbor kids that Mary was her only friend. Mary keeps me warm, she’d say. She keeps me safe. She tells me things about how the world works.
One night, she says, Mary came to her and told her to go outside. “Come, child. Look. See. Feel. Know.”
She walked out to the starriest night. Every star was golden liquid, larger than the sun. They illuminated the wind, which swirled like when she went to the beach once. It was a picnic. There was lightning. The waves were all over, silver, alive.
She could see all the houses. The cathedral. The trees. Everything illimunated. Everything blue and green and gold, alive.
“Look child, look again. Stay very still and think of nothing at all.
The stars know your name. You’re made of them.
The tree was there when your mother and her mother were born.
All of this is your birthright. Each piece contains all the gods and all the spirits and all the loves. You’ll never be alone. Each is your friend. Each will walk by your side, day or night, young or old.”
From then on, she saw the world as blue and gold, silver, alive. The trees she laughed with. The stars sang her name. The cathedral was her home. The winds whispered that she was loved beyond imagining.
She knew, from that time on, that all things are full of Gods. The starry night. The heat of day. The rain and the snow. All of it shimmering, all of it holy.
