Over Pews and Airplanes Sydney Mantay
A
Flash Essay 54
n elder standing at the pulpit shuffles his papers and scratches at his beard. He tells a story about something that quickly loses the attention of the crowd. I count how many times his teeth make a quick whistling sound. Four times with words that start with an S...two more times when he huffs between words...and what about that sound? Does that qualify as a— A paper airplane gets caught between my twisted fingers and interrupts my thought. I don’t look around because I know who the pilot of this plane is: my grandfather, the old preacher. The pew shifts as he leans over to see my reaction. My movements are slight, the tail of my right eyebrow rises and my chin drops in a nod. He relaxes at the signal; he kicks out his legs and I see his high-top Vans sway. All over the wings of the plane are notes, sketches, ideas, comments and criticism. My teeth sink into the sore on my cheek and I slip the airplane somewhere between the Psalms.
Living Waters Review
