‘Round Yon Virgin
By Colton Claye
Even on an ordinary day you would be fortunate to have this as part of your path home, but this is no ordinary day. This is the last Saturday before Christmas, and Southgate Mall is alive with all the splendor of the season, the decorations, the merry music, Santa, excitement in every face, magic everywhere, the anticipation and build up to the big day. It’s everything you could want at 8 years old.
But today you will walk through it all, a stranger to it, ostracized from the world of sounding joy as heaven and nature sing; you will not experience the peace on earth.
Not you, you vile child. You forced your way into the shower with that poor woman, you were always looking for this chance, you knew this drive was inside you. You've known since kindergarten, when you noticed something different about Sherry Valenplum as she sat in the back of the class, wearing sheer nude nylons for picture day and you were mesmerized. Her legs under her desk, shimmering in the sun. Captivated, you couldn’t look away. You never saw anything so entrancing, and you wanted to experience that beauty further. You wanted to understand what was happening for you, and to comprehend the power it had over you.
Since that day, you knew something strange was inside and now you unleashed that beast on this poor woman. Your teacher. A virgin. A NUN. A woman who devoted herself to the Lord. How she must have regretted dressing in the ordinary clothes of common people instead of a habit. And the brute you are couldn’t help but force yourself into her most personal moment, a moment of cleansing, a cleansing she will desire even more, but the memory of your animal act will deny it for her. You filthy beast of a boy! Your dirty hands touching a symbol of sacredness, your mind on her naked and sanctimonious body.
Oh, there’s Santa waving at you; he hasn’t heard. Your teacher is probably just recovering enough from the shock to tell the Monsignor. Her cries bouncing off the cold stone and marble of Our Lady Queen of Peace.
You will protest that you didn’t want to violate her privacy. But you made the choice, even though the priests and teachers in this Saturday's Confraternity Christian Doctrine class impressed upon you that thoughts about the body were dirty and impure. And even worse, you used the disguise of generosity and thoughtfulness. Will this woman be forever tormented by the sight of the two bars of holiday themed soap she has surely unwrapped by now? You will hide behind the fact that your mom suggested this gift. But when you passed the wastebasket in the hallway before entering class, a voice, some small shred of decency still left in you, pleaded with you to toss that in there and not thrust on her what is clearly acknowledging her still chaste but unveiled state. But you went right ahead and gave it to her anyway and to make it more twisted, as you handed her this package of suggestive contents, you even had the nerve to say “Merry Christmas.”
About the author
Colton Claye is a writer, musician, activist and hunt saboteur.