St. Teresa of Avila’s Aero
First Place Winner / 2023 Wintermute Writing Contest If church pews lay stagnant instead of evolving into new skeletal formations depending on the crowd size then we wouldn’t be in Epicenter church. I knew many people here through my mother and so I step through the holographic display of last year’s service with the feeling of entering an entity pulsing like the inside of a sick stomach. I thumb the console through a half-hour of Markus enjoining us with his brand of syncretism that makes the senior pastor blush. During Markus’ waffled retelling of the Book of Ruth, in which Boaz takes center-stage I wait in a chair next to his empty one until he steps off the podium. When he sits beside me I notice his large palms are on a Bible and he’s frantically whispering something that buzzes the speakers in my ear, I inch closer but the static increases. I put my hand through his face and the images shuffle until I’m entering a wall of flesh. Then the projector hisses and I’m back in the bun
