All the Lonely People

February 28, 2017
By Paytonm11 BRONZE, Tukwila, Washington
Paytonm11 BRONZE, Tukwila, Washington
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Look at the all the lonely people, where do they all come from? Where do they all belong?
Ms. Eleanor Rigby, spends her days strolling up and down her street. She watches the people around her but they never look at her. She walks past the church and feels grains of rice crunch under her feet from the wedding the day before. Carefully leaning over, she gently picks up a piece of rice and gently places it in her pocket. During the night she lives in a dream, staring at the window, wondering why she wears a happy face to hide her loneliness. The world seems deathly quiet. She sits wondering where she belongs?
Father McKenzie sits alone, carefully writing a sermon that he knows no one will hear. Not many people come to his masses anymore, and many less actually listen to what he says. Still, he carefully organizes each detail. He finishes perfecting his sermon then begins to darn the hole in his nice dress socks that he wears each Sunday. For him, every night is spent alone. The church had lost its luster. People have lost their religion. Why does he care? Every Sunday he sees all of the lonely people congregated before him. He gazes towards them, staring blankly, wondering where they all come from and thinking of where he thought that they all belonged.
The next Sunday, Eleanor Rigby attends mass at Father McKenzie’s church. She sits on the far left, in the fourth row of the pews. Halfway through Father McKenzie’s carefully prepared sermon, she dies, leaving the world with no one to miss her. She didn’t have any children or a husband to grieve for her and both of her parents had died long ago. The only person who cared enough to do anything was Father McKenzie. She was already dead by the time he had gotten to her, so he was unable to perform her Last Rites. He buried Eleanor in the cemetery behind the church with only her name, as nobody knew when she was born. Nobody came. He wondered if it would be the same at his own funeral, he knew it would be. None of his parishioners truly cared for him and he didn’t have any real friends or family. Father McKenzie brushed the dirt from his hands as he walked from the grave. He knew that no one was saved.
He was now lonely in being lonely. He knew where he had come from, he knew that no one in the town liked him. He was the solitary lonely person, now that Ms. Rigby had died he was the last person to be completely alone. Where did he belong? He didn’t know, he just knew that he didn’t belong there.

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