Chimes of Passion by Joe Mudak

It was a dark and stormy night, and
the five friends backpacking across northern England scurried to
find cover from the rapidly intensifying downpour.
     
    Alyssa was the first to notice the
silhouette of the large building, with a dimly flickering set of
lights punctuating its shape. “Hey guys, look!” She pointed at the
building.
     
    Between the rain battering their heads
and shoulders, and the mist that rose from the moors around them,
no one was sure exactly how far away it was. But then again, no one
cared either. Here was shelter. Sanctuary. A place to dry off and
warm up.
     
    The friends shared the unspoken hope
that someone would take pity on five poor college students. Five
college students who, Irene seemed overly fond of reminding
everyone, could be sitting on a beach in Cancun at this very
moment, sipping margaritas and wondering where the MTV cameras
were.
     
    Soon, the five friends found
themselves within shouting distance of the shelter they sought.
Following the roughly hewn path into the building, Lynda paused for
a moment and inhaled deeply. “I think I smell lilacs.” She’d loved
working with flowers since she was a little girl; that’s probably
why, she would tell friends and acquaintances, she chose to major
in botany.
     
    Her friends had already reached the
door into the building and she hastened to join them. The five
friends stood in the doorway. Pete asked, “What kind of place is
this?”
     
    “A church of some sort, I think,” Ron
answered. He let out a deep sigh and continued, “I guess we should
knock, huh?” He felt along the door and found a heavy iron knocker,
which he used to strike against the metal plate upon which it
normally rested, the door opened slightly with a creak that echoed
throughout the cavernous halls inside.
     
    The five students shuffled into the
building. The large stone walls were lined with thick, heavy
candles that, at first glance, resembled torches. The candles sent
shadows jumping across the granite floor. The building definitely
had the feel of an old church, however there were no icons or
religious statues. In fact, with the exception of the candles
themselves, there was nothing adorning any of the walls.
     
    As the gang of five surveyed the
building, they couldn’t help but notice the large wooden pew-like
benches facing what clearly resembled a low-key altar.
     
    The air inside the church was heavy,
yet dry. Irene removed her backpack and coat, remarking, “It feels
good in here, but I’m chilly.” The other four nodded agreement and
followed suit. Irene casually walked to a series of large, thick
candles, attempting to dry her skin with the flames. As she rubbed
her hands above one candle with two independent flaming wicks, she
smiled. “This isn’t fast, but, man it feels good.” Alyssa took her
place a few yards away from Irene and started doing the
same.
     
    One by one, all five students found a
candle and attempted to dry themselves. Ron and Lynda found that
they were more comfortable after removing their respective shirts.
When Lynda noticed Pete staring at her rain-soaked bra clinging
tightly to her skin, she chided him, “This isn’t a wet T-shirt
contest, honey.”
     
    Pete quickly looked away. For a long
while no one spoke. Most were too thankful or too busy trying to
dry off to think about actually communicating with one another. The
rain battering the walls outside and the occasional distant crack
of thunder was the extent of any real sound.
     
    When Ron figured he was about as dry
as he was going to get, he sat down on the floor and stared at the
light flickering everywhere around him. He closed his eyes and a
slight smile appeared on his face. He spread his arms in what he
considered a silent homage to the atmosphere of this place. The
sound of the rain, the feeling of the air, the mystery of this
whole place.
     
    Alyssa noticed him and asked, “What
are you thinking?”
     
    His voice echoed across the