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Don't Let Go by Levi

“How could it… all be gone?” The young Coyote slid a clawed, padded finger along the wooden end of the church pew. This was his row. Everyone knew it. He walked in the sanctuary, and if no one sat there, he did every week. Everyone joked that he sat there so much, the pew’s padding had flattened in that spot.

It had been funny once, and probably true. Out of habit, he slid into his old seat and lowered himself down.

No, it wouldn’t work. The pews were not designed for tailed creatures. He leaned forward, hoping to give his tail enough room so he would not be cramped. It was no use. At least no one was here to see. He had chosen this afternoon on purpose. No one ever stopped by on Monday afternoons. The women would not have their get-together for at least four more hours, so he had a while longer by himself.

No one had to see the exposed Coyote.
They’d already seen their fill.

Why had he done it? The Committee urged all Coyotes to remain under cover for as long as possible, or failing that, to limit exposure to the human community. The secret was out, now, but as long as the humans did not have a constant reminder, they would be calmer, the reasoning went. “Why wouldn’t they…?”

He felt their glares before he walked through the door that Sunday morning. If they did not glare, they looked away, and the Coyote smelled their fear. He, who had been so well-known and even liked by the congregation, now a pariah. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.

There was no place for a Coyote here.

He had not even checked the church web site for the pastor’s sermon. He had not wanted to hear what he had to say… if he said anything at all about the Coyote in their midst.

Betrayal, that’s what it was. They had all abandoned him when they discovered his true form. No one had tried to contact him all week, and no one had returned his calls. No one left a message on Facebook asking how he was. He no longer existed. If they had torn out his heart and crushed it with their fist, it would have been better. At least then he would not be around to feel the pain.

“But it’s my fault too.” Like so many other Coyotes, he lived two lives. One interacted with the human world, and the other appeared in the silent place. Eventually the silent form lay dormant, forgotten. How many times had he gone about his private affairs in human form, abandoning his true appearance? “I hid it.” And when the light came, the light shone in the darkness, and it exposed him for who he was.

And the light condemned him. Coyotes were not worthy of human society, especially not Coyotes who practiced deception every day of their life.

Shaking his head, he stood and tucked his tail between his legs. He stumbled to the altar and collapsed before the prayer bench. Digging his claws into the soft cloth, he gasped for air. He exhaled. As he did, his body relaxed, and the muscles holding back their tears gave way. “God, forgive me. Forgive me for lying to the congregation for so long. I knew better, even though all the others told me to keep the illusion. I know you say to be truthful.” He heaved his shoulders, allowing another sharp intake of air. “And I wasn’t! I led them on for years. They didn’t know any better, of course. How could they?” But if he had told, he would have violated the trust of the Committee and all the other Coyotes in the nation. “Have mercy on me.”

As he wept, image after image of the congregation’s members appeared in his mind. Her scowl, his look of fear, the child’s cries as he clung to his mother. “And have mercy on them.” For all his wrongs, the congregation was not right. As one they expelled him from fellowship, so it was only in the quiet of the afternoon that he dared come here. Where was the love? Where was the willingness to accept the outcast who desired to worship his God with fellow believers? In their rush to appear holy, did they abandon their calling? He cried again, but not for himself. This was a people lost in a maze of ritual and appearance, ineffective in their ministry.

And he had not known it before.

“Was I like them? In seeking to be like them, did I become as they are?” He groaned again. “But now it is gone.”

He became aware of the floor creaking behind him, and someone put a soft, warm hand on his head. It was a human. Startled, the Coyote cut off his prayer and looked up. The deacon who always sat in the back, an ancient gentleman with no hair on his head and covered in wrinkles, gazed at him with watery eyes. Now, as then, he wore a business suit with no tie. The Coyote cringed. “I- I can go. I’m sorry. I should not have come.”

He raised himself as if to stand, but the deacon pressed down on his head harder. “Don’t interrupt your conversation on my account,” he said in a whisper. “Stay here a while.”

“But… they asked me not to come back.” The Coyote matched the man’s tone. He bowed his head again, his ears pinned flat against his head. “Not as long as… I could not be trusted. And by being here, I violate their trust.”

The deacon stiffly lowered himself to his knees, joining the Coyote at the altar. “Maybe so.” He lowered his hand from the Coyote’s head to the back of his neck. “Why did you come here?”

“To pray. I know I could do it at home, but... I wanted to do it here. It smells right here.” He took another slow, deep breath. The odor of old hymnals and Bibles was the most prominent, mixed with a blend of stale perfume and human sweat and tears. Why this place? Why the place of judgment? The park would be less overbearing.

“You are not welcome here,” the man said. “They did not welcome you. I saw what they did.” He finally settled into a kneeling position at the altar, grunting as he moved. Despite the man’s words, his tone and posture told the Coyote to stay. They did not welcome you, but I will, is what he meant. “I should have said something then, and not later. I am sorry for that.”

“You’re not angry with me?”

“For what? For not saying what you are? I don’t blame you for that. Based on how others are reacting, it’s probably best that you said nothing. I cannot imagine what it must be like for you now.” He raised his head, and the Coyote followed his gaze to the stained cherry wood cross hanging from the wall. “My apologies for interrupting your conversation.”

“Could you pray with me?”

“Of course I can, if you want me to.” The man brought his hand from the Coyote’s neck. With the sudden release of pressure, he felt exposed, naked in this once friendly, now hostile place. The Coyote gasped. “Is something wrong?”

The Coyote reached for the man’s wrist and brought his hand back down. “Please don’t let go.”

The man smiled, as if holding back a laugh, and rested his hand against the Coyote’s neck again, just above the shirt line. “I won’t. Now let’s pray.”

Don't Let Go

Levi

How does a coyote react when he is rejected by the humans he thought he loved?

This is a throwaway story I wrote a while back, which is rather loosely connected to the events from Always By Your Side, which you can find elsewhere in my gallery. I have a few more of these and am contemplating releasing all I have, and maybe writing a few more.

Thumbnail created by kalika

Submission Information

Views:
962
Comments:
7
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Rating:
General
Category:
Literary / Story

Comments

  • Link

    That dichotomy between people's claims and their actions is always an interesting topic. A nicely written piece here. ^^

    • Link

      It tends to show up a lot in what I write. The tolerance for hypocrites is not very high.

      Thanks for the compliment, too. :) I've seen you've posted a few things and need to get to them.

  • Link

    I enjoy your writing, it reminds me of my own style a lot. I'm not familiar with places of worship, but they've always seemed like nothing more than gaudy places to go to absolve one's self of their wrongdoings without taking any responsibility for them. As Tonin said above, exploring such dichotomies is always sobering.

    • Link

      I'd forgotten this story existed. What drew you to this one?

      Religion and faith both color my work, as these are of great importance to me, but my depictions of the institutional church are not always positive, as you likely saw here. Nevertheless, I would dispute your characterization of places of worship, but this is not the ideal place for such a discussion.

      • Link

        The title. Title choice is a big factor in things for me, I have a pretty good success rate of being able to figure out what something might be about. Sorry if my comment came off as disrespectful, that wasn't my intention; I just don't have the best personal view and experiences toward places of worship is all, I know it's a bias.

  • Link

    I like the picture this paints. It's so real (as far as secretly anthropomorphic coyotes go); hypocrites, rejection, fear, guilt. Repentance, love, acceptance, and a comforting hand among the balled fists. I think some of us still have a ways to go before we take the plank from our eye and start acting out what we profess to believe.
    Reflection upon the morals of this story aside, it was a great read!

    • Link

      Glad you enjoyed it!