2023 Story of the Month Club- April

April 12, 2023

This month’s story is Stained Glass Fantasy, by C.O. Bonham. To download a printable .pdf file of the story, please click here.

Stained Glass Fantasy

by C.O. Bonham

“Are you sure your brother-in-law will come through with costumes?” I asked. We were sitting in the church’s fellowship hall, the large open room where we held our potlucks and wedding receptions.

“Positive. He’s on his way now to drop them off,” Tricia said. She raised her eyebrows. “Did you finish the script yet?”

I sighed and rested my head in my hands.

“Kristen! How do you expect to host the children’s service without a script?”

“It’s super easy. Tomb. Angels roll the stone away. Jesus walks out, he is risen, hallelujah.”

Tricia raised her eyebrow and crossed her arms. It was the same look she’d give me in school when she thought I was slacking off on a group project. “We agreed that I would handle set design and staging. All you had to do was come up with the parts and the lines.”

When Tricia and I had told Mrs. Wachter that we were too old to be in the children’s service, we never expected her to give us the job of producing the whole thing. We’re seventeen, didn’t she realize we wanted less responsibility, not more?

“Look Tricia, we aren’t being graded on this. We aren’t even trying to save anyone’s soul. We are literally preaching to the choir. Everyone knows this story, and it bores them. It’s all tradition.”

A car pulled up outside the window and Tricia got up and went out to meet Brandon, her very tall brother-in-law.

He came in seconds later, carrying a large cardboard box. “Hi, where do you want these?”

I directed him to set the box down on the bench by the door. “Thank you so much for bringing these. The old costumes are looking ratty. Where did you get these?”

“No problem. This is just the loaner gear from my LARP group’s kid’s program. We won’t need them again until summer. So you can borrow them.”

I got an uneasy feeling in my gut. “Please tell me LARP stands for Lutheran Apologetics Religious Performers.”

“No.” He smiled at me. “It stands for Live Action Role Play. It’s like D&D but we don’t use dice. And dice, I think we can all agree, are both the best and worst part of D&D.”

I groaned. Mrs. Wachter was going to crucify us. How were we going to put on a resurrection play with Lord of the Rings costumes?

Brandon ran a hand through his wavy brown hair. “I think it’s very cool that you girls want to update the usual play. It’s about time to shake things up around here. Every year it’s the same story and you can tell that no one’s heart is really in it. So, what’s the new play about?”

I shrugged. “What would you tell at Easter, if not the Easter story?” I took a deep breath and hoped I hadn’t sounded too undecided. “I mean yeah, that’s what the old people think. But we are really going to do something different this year.” If only I knew what we would do.

Thankfully, Tricia came back inside carrying another box of costumes and accessories. She set it down beside the first box and turned to her brother-in-law. “Thank you so much for the loan, Brandon. This is going to be such a great play.”

“Like I told your friend, no worries. I’m looking forward to seeing what you girls do with them.”

Brandon waved at us as he drove away. Once he was out of sight, I turned to Tricia. “Why do we now have two boxes of fantasy role play gear in the church?”

“Don’t get mad at me, you are the one who’s dragging her feet on taking this seriously. So I went ahead with my creative vision.”

I opened the box closest to me and pulled out a long wig with pointy ears attached. “Your creative vision is Legolas Jesus?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone knows Aragorn was Jesus.”

I threw the wig back in the box. “This is the same stunt you pulled on our science project last month.”

“You mean the science project that we got an A on?” Tricia sighed. “Kristen, stories get retold all the time. Can’t you just go with me on this? You can still have the traditional story that’s easy for you to write but we just set it in a fantasy world.”

I stared down at the boxes of costumes. Was it still the Easter story if it wasn’t word- for-word out of the Bible?

“Argh, this is a mess.” I sat down beside Tricia, and I almost started crying as we stared at the arguing middle schoolers on the stage.

Last night I sat down and transcribed the story of Prince Jesus and his twelve knights. It was bad. I hated how it came out and I was sure everyone at church would hate it too, maybe even God hated it. But we had two weeks till Easter and the kids still needed to rehearse.

“Right, who knew it would be this hard to work with kids?” Tricia tossed her staging notes onto the pew beside her. “Maybe we should have asked some of their parents to stay and help.”

I stood up, feeling myself reach maximum stubbornness. “No, we may be in over our heads, but I will put on the worst play ever before I admit to Mrs. Wachter that we need help.”

I picked up my script and ripped it in two. “Okay kids,” I shouted towards the stage. “You want changes? You’re getting changes.”

I hurriedly started taking illegible notes as the kids all started shouting things they wanted in the show. Jesus got his dragon. Magdalene was one of the thirteen knights now. The Princesses Marian and Martha would both have bigger roles as visiting royalty. Pilate would get to be an orc barbarian. But no matter the changes I made, this would still be an Easter play.

It took twenty minutes and the Church’s printer to get new scripts ready for everyone. It was quick, and all it cost us was enough time for all the kids to change their minds again.

By the time I got back to the stage Jesus wanted to be an Archer and three of the knights insisted they couldn’t say Jesus because it was a bad word.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Did I really want to explain the difference between saying the Lord’s name in vain and just saying his name, to third graders? “Fine, no one has to say Jesus. We’re changing his name to Prince Lambert.” I pointed at Tony. “Remember you are Prince Lambert now. Yes, you can carry the bow.”

Tricia passed out the new scripts, and we finally got to rehearse the play.

We had just made it through act one when all the kids became unhappy again.

“Tricia, why don’t we take a break and pass out the sheet music for the singing.”

She turned to me and with her most serious face said, “What sheet music?”

“The kids always sing ‘Christ the Lord is Risen Today’. It’s a tradition. One of those traditions you don’t mess with.”

She placed her hands on her hips and glared at me. “Lord of the Rings was not a musical, Kristen.”

I waved at the stage. “This is not a fantasy epic, it’s an Easter service. A service that you want to perform without hymns. Really?”

I felt a tugging on my t-shirt and looked down. Leanna looked up at me with all the innocence her seven-year-old eyes could muster. “Miss Kristen, Jesus died and then rose again. That’s pretty epic, isn’t it?”

Tricia nudged me. “Pretty fantastic too,” she said.

I looked down at Leanna. “Yes, it is very epic.”

She smiled, her two front teeth just poking through her gums. “Good.” Then her smile vanished, and the innocence of her youth evaporated. “I can’t work with my brother. He keeps teasing me and poking me, and he says that Mary Magdalene was a—”

I cut her off real fast. “You can go sit with Heather and Julie. I’ll talk to your brother.”

But by the time Leanna had run off to sit with her friends, Tricia was already walking up to the stage. “Robert Hudgens, you wait until I tell your Mama what you’ve been saying.”

Robert, who was supposed to be the apostle Peter, shot up and bolted like he’d just been caught denying the son of God.

It was Easter Morning, and after a collective five hours of rehearsing, this show was happening. I just hoped Tricia and I weren’t excommunicated over this. Wait, did Pentecostals excommunicate?

Tony walked out on stage and held his bow in the air. “I am Prince Lambert. My father, the King, set a rule that only those who hit a perfect target with an arrow may enter his Kingdom. He does, however, allow the people to choose a champion to shoot on their behalf. Unfortunately, I am the only one who can hit a perfect target every time. I will choose knights to come with me and we will spread the word that they may choose me for their champion.” The other twelve kids stepped on stage and the light went out.

The next scene was the knights going to various townspeople and telling them about the prince who could hit every shot he took. The people did not believe them. Then up on the wall appeared the projected image of a dragon. I was pretty sure it was Smaug from The Hobbit movie and had argued with Tricia about using the copyrighted image. But she had a point about no one from Hollywood knowing or caring about a mid-sized church in Northern Ohio.

Tony as Prince Lambert twanged his bow and the footage of the dragon falling played on the wall. The people on stage cheered their savior.

The audience was silent.

The play proceeded with a montage—if you can ever truly do a montage on stage—of people coming forward for the arrow test and calling on the prince to be their champion.

When the visiting royal princesses, Marian and Martha, came forward and asked the prince to be their champion, I heard gasps from the audience.

I knew them choosing a different kingdom over their own didn’t make sense to the story.

Other nobles came forward with their own champions and they always lost. No one could hit the impossible target set by the old king.

The losing nobles went off and conspired together at the corner of the stage.

“Kristen.” The harsh whisper from beside the stage distracted me from overseeing the pinning of Orc Pilate’s cape before his big scene.

I snapped the last safety pin closed and turned to see Mrs. Wachter, who had been surprisingly hands off during this whole process, standing beside the steps. I came down to her and asked, “So what do you think?”

“What is this play? You are supposed to be retelling the Easter story.”

“We are.” I thought of all people Mrs. Wachter would get it. She was the one who had read The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe out loud for a month because the Sunday school books were lost in the mail. “This is an epic fantasy interpretation.”

“This isn’t a story you can interpret. This is about tradition.”

Honestly, if she had argued that we couldn’t change it because she believed it was a real event that shouldn’t be altered from the written record, I might have given in. But when she said it was about tradition, I suddenly realized what Tricia was trying to do here. “Mrs. Wachter, if all you care about is tradition then you missed the whole point of the Easter story.”

I did not wait for her to respond. I ran back up the steps to the wings and helped Barabbas put his war paint on. If Mrs. Wachter wanted the play stopped, she could stop it herself.

She did nothing, and when I looked back, she wasn’t there.

The play continued with the jealous nobles kidnapping the prince and delivering him to his enemies, the orcs. The prince was kneeling before Pilate and Darrin, playing Barabbas, was standing victorious and cheering along with the crowd saying his name.

I held my breath as the last act began. I knew when adapting this that it was going to be the most controversial part.

The orcs sentenced the prince to death because they worshiped the dragon that he had killed in act two. Instead of a crucifixion I had them take stabs at him over and over.

The kids playing the orcs were a little too enthusiastic because honestly, Tony was a bit of a bully. I had to blast the transition music to get them to stop.

The prince lay on stage under a red light in silence for four seconds then the lights went out and he got up and walked offstage.

On stage, Andrew appeared as the King. “My beloved son has died. But I will show mercy to anyone who calls him champion. He never misses the mark, so calling on his name is the same as a hit.” Was Andrew actually crying? Dang, we had seriously underestimated his acting chops.

The lights went out again and Tricia cued the lightning effect. It showed the Prince lying on the altar. Another bolt of lightning effect showed the altar empty. Then a third lightning effect and a spotlight came on showing the Prince standing with his knights around him and a handful of orcs and townspeople coming forward to beg him to shoot for them.

Fantasy fanfare music played as the sanctuary lights came on and all the kids stepped out to take a bow. Tricia ran down from the sound board and we stepped up to join the kids. I had expected some applause, if only from the parents of the actors. I was not prepared for the stark silence that greeted us.

The audience stared back at us. I looked at the faces in the crowd. The older the congregation member, the angrier their face looked. Some of the younger ones looked confused. My parents just looked disappointed.

The only person who looked visibly happy was Brandon. I think he would have stood up and cheered if Tricia’s sister didn’t have a death grip on his forearm.

Slowly, I directed the kids to leave the stage and go back to the choir room to change.

I couldn’t stand the feeling of failure that permeated the atmosphere. But worst of all, Tricia and I had no answers for the kids when they asked why no one liked their play.

I celebrated the rest of Easter in silence. Which was sad because for the first time I felt like I actually understood what Easter and my faith were really all about.

No one can hit the mark. Only the prince can. This Easter story is not a tradition or a fable, it’s an invitation to call on the only champion who can shoot the arrow at the target and welcome us into the kingdom.

I didn’t see Tricia again until the following week when school started back up. I stopped at my locker and waited for her to join me. I opened my locker and unloaded my books before speaking. “Were you at church yesterday?”

“I was not,” she replied. She placed her books in her locker and slammed the door before looking me in the eyes. “I probably won’t be going back.”

“Me neither. I can’t stand the way people were looking at us after the play. Like we corrupted their children.”

“Did your parents make you meet with the pastor?”

I nodded. “Yes, and apparently the biggest complaint was the depiction of the lesbian princesses. They were sisters, not gay.”

“I know, but even if they were gay, what does it matter as long as they chose the prince?”

I shrugged. It wasn’t my place to say. We took our seats in homeroom and Tricia tapped me on the shoulder from behind. “Hey Kristen, do you want to try role-playing games with me? I found a party looking for new players. The only thing is they meet on Sundays.”

I smiled. It was ironic. The Pastor thought I already played role-playing games. He thought they were responsible for the heretical play I had written. I turned around in my seat. “Are you suggesting I play Magic and Mages instead of going to church? What will everyone think?”

“Do you even still care?”

“No, I don’t think I do. Let’s do it.”

“Great, I have an idea for a Cleric based on Acts 17:23.”

I racked my brain but could not think of what that referenced. “I think I’ll write up a Bard. It turns out I enjoy telling stories. How do you think a game based on our play would go over?”

When I was asked to write a story for April my mind instantly went to Easter. Because Easter is in April this year, obviously.

Some reading this may not have had good experiences with a Church or Church-going people. They do tend to freak out when something new or different becomes popular. For example, the popularity of Fantasy role-playing games.

When I first started playing D&D it surprised me to learn, it wasn’t nearly as evil or immersive as I had been led to believe. It was funny and meta and a lot more math than I was ready to deal with in my head. My brain instantly started thinking about how the gospel would look in a fantasy setting.

But back to this story. My fantasy gospel idea was the foundation but the thing I think about when I think of Easter, is not candy. It’s Sunday school children’s services. So, I mashed them up.

Easter is the most important holiday to a Christian. It’s literally the reason for the entire faith, but so many treat it secondary to Christmas.

Further befuddlement comes as so many just go through the motions of Easter without really celebrating. It’s just a tradition to them.

How many people only go to Church on Easter? How many only care because an elderly relative still cares. Because it’s a tradition.

This little satire isn’t meant to undermine anyone’s faith. It’s not meant to justify not going to Church, but it doesn’t advocate for it either. Jesus went to where the people were, some people were at the temple, most people were just doing their jobs, and some may have been huddled around a table of hand carved miniatures playing role-playing games. Something tells me the Pharisees wouldn’t have cared for D&D either.

Jesus came because no one but him can hit the mark. Not even those who claim his forgiveness. Everyone makes mistakes, assumes things, misunderstands things, and intentionally obfuscates the truth to make themselves look better. The prince doesn’t care, he will shoot for you too.

Sincerely,

C.O. Bonham

C.O. Bonham is the pen name for a commonly misspelled first name. She loves stories of all kinds, but really likes the ones that are weird, and outside the norm. A certified book geek, when she isn’t writing stories of her own she is busy reading stories by others. A homeschool graduate with a degree in creative writing, her goal is to create stories that make people think, feel, and have fun.

Her debut novel Runaway Lyrics, a steampunk fantasy retelling of Snow White and Rose Red, released in 2021.