Sunday Best

“Put this on, you have to look your best for church.”

Our church has a fairly uptight dress code, slacks, sweaters, loafers. You know, the standard “Sunday Best.” Its not that big of a deal honestly, I just have to go pretend to sing along to the hymns, close my eyes when everyone else does, and we go to the local diner afterwards and I get a one way ticket to get anything on the menu. But this time, she’s being weird. Full dress suit, tie, hair greased and embarrassingly parted.

“There’s my handsome boy” My mother stated while using a spittle-wetted palm to ease down any hairs she missed.

As my mother loaded us into the station wagon, we began the drive to church. The journey was as monotonous as every other week, the pine forest giving way to the town of Freeman’s Gap. The town was by no metric a large one, what few shops existed back in the day are boarded up with vacancy posters riddled like a pox along main street. Missing pet posters, missing child posters, help wanted ads, and guitar instructor contact information cover most telephone poles. There is no hustle or bustle in town, which made the ride even more tiring. I awake when I hear the distinctive crunch of gravel in the parking lot. A For some reason, this week we made it even earlier than usual.

As we enter, Pastor Stephen welcomes us. There are some basic pleasantries, the usual small town talk. After a little bit of the mundane back and forth, Pastor Stephen commented on how well dressed I am. Called me “The Pride of the Town.”

“Can I get a picture of you son, for the Facebook page? You might be the handsomest young man I’ve ever seen.” He stated through a smile.

“I’ll make sure to get you whatever you want, just play along.” Mom whispers in my ear. Acquiescing, I follow to take a picture in front of a mural beside Stephen’s office.

“Thank you, I have a surprise for you, but can’t tell the other kids.” Pastor Stephen says while winking at mother.. We head into his office, which contains a second door, deadbolted. that I haven’t seen before. “Right this way, son,” as he undoes the deadbolt. I accept his opening of the door as a sign to head down first.

I felt every stair hit me with a sickening force as a hand pushes me down the stairs. After a moment of assessing if anything was broken, I crawl up the stairs to the small glimmer of light peaking through.

“What a handsome young man, this one will fetch us a fortune. The donations we will receive for your ‘missing’ son will keep the church funded for months. He might even pull in out of state sympathy tithes. Thank you”

As I lay in the darkness, I hear the announcement of my disappearance, and the evangelized call for donations ring shortly thereafter.