The Tiebacks' Confessional
The creaks of the pews reverberated off the cracked walls,  a tirade of splintering monotony probing her subconscious.
The dust had collected along the windowsills throughout the fall, but not even the gusts that blew through the gaps in the stained glass could create a billow large enough to wrinkle her nose.
At the sound of a passing crow, her gaze flitted for only a moment until she once again became entranced by the shadows that danced on the floor littered with missalettes.
Once she rose from her seat, there seemed to be a silence that enveloped the world like the way the trickle of rain ceases when  it meets grass, not concrete.
The cat that crossed the street acknowledged her with not even a glance, fixing more interest on the town deli than her.
Leaves crackled with every touch of callused feet even though she could be defeated by a whisper.
The gentle gargle of the babbling brook  was interrupted by a sudden cacophony of tasteless banter, though maybe this banter was a sleight of hand brought forth by the powers that be,  for there soon returned that stillness she loathed, but could not survive without.
No longer did the sparrow pause to sing a tune of brighter times,  nor did the chipmunk come out from hiding to scurry along the beaten trail.
The baker did wave his hat to sell the last few loaves of bread,  but the starving artist was awestruck by the lurid masterpiece that stood before him because the residue that clung to the frayed threads of her dress and matched the hue of the slowly wilting roses wasn't paint.