A pew in view

Maude sat on an uncomfortable pew in the middle of a shuffling crowd, unable to quite believe what was happening. Church had always been a solemn necessity to her. An unquestionable obligation, but not one she was particularly present for. Once, she had actually considered becoming a nun. But as this stuffy building with its mumbling pastors and whispered exchanges of gossip had slowly become a symbol of everything she was drowning under… the crowded seats had started to feel like looming flocks of leering buzzards. She had survived by hiding in a seat at the back, lost in daydreams of whatever half-finished book was waiting at home.

Except this time she was sat in the very centre of the hall. Led there by Kinki with all the confidence that these two seats were theirs and theirs alone. Both of them naked as the day they were born, encircled by the prim and proper ensembles of small folk’s Sunday best. Maude glanced around nervously, trying her utmost to not look like she was doing so. Every so often she met the eyes of one neighbour or another. People she’d spent her whole life around, shy and reserved and hidden away.

The stated rules of Kinki’s magic weighed in on her: ‘They would only see her unclothed body if they wanted to’. But what did that really limit? What did that make every encouraging smile or sneering leer or disgruntled frown mean? At first her natural self-deprecation had simply assumed no-one would really want to see her not-particularly-impressive breasts or blotchy-pink buttocks. Yet if life should have taught her anything, it was that a lot of human beings wanted to see things they could disapprove of. Why hadn’t she seen that trap in Kinki’s smirking assurances?! And why could she still not tell if the creepy old man three rows back was ogling her because she was providing everything on display, or if that was just how his eyes were?

She wriggled in her seat, trying not to brush up against the grandmother next to her. She shivered and trembled as they all stood up to sing the opening hymn. Everything seemed to tingle and itch, the air filled with a static charge of nervous energy. Yet at the same time she had never felt so alive and in touch with just the sensations of living inside her own body: The patches of sunlight creeping in from high windows, the gentle breeze drifting in through the door. The hard, polished wood pressing up against her bottom and the cold stone beneath her bare feet. It felt so naughty and invigorating simply to be herself in this moment, breaking all the rules of politeness and good sense she’d hidden behind all her life.

So wrapped up in the excitement of existing was she, that Maude almost missed when the attention of the entire room turned towards her. In a blushing panic she suddenly registered what the pastor was saying:

“So I believe our new guest from places afar would like to give an errm… demonstration of her own religious practices, with our Miss Merryweather’s assistance. Is that right?”

In horror Maude turned to see the witch grinning wildly, already tugging her out towards the altar.