A/N: I'm not sure what made me write this. I was listening to the song today, and then opened Microsoft Word, and wrote it. I would highly suggest listening to Eleanor Rigby by the Beatles before you read it; you should be able to find it on youtube. If not, definitely read the lyrics I included.
"Ahh, look at all the lonely people
Ahh, look at all the lonely people
Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been
Lives in a dream
Waits at the window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for?
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?
Father McKenzie writing the words of a sermon that no one will hear
No one comes near.
Look at him working, darning his socks in the night when there's nobody there
What does he care?
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?
Ahh, look at all the lonely people
Ahh, look at all the lonely people
Eleanor Rigby died in the church and was buried along with her name
Nobody came
Father McKenzie wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the grave
No one was saved
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?"
Eleanor fingered the silky skirt of the dress she held in her lap.
"Eleanor!" her mother called up the stairs. "Eleanor Rigby! The wedding starts in an hour! If you're not down here in five minutes, I'll force you into that dress!"
Eleanor sighed, and began to undress. She slipped the large black buttons that adorned the back of the dress out of their holes, and clambered into the black material, looking down at herself. There was a beautiful black ribbon tied around the waist, and it met at the back where it was to be tied into a large bow. The chest of it was covered in sequined flowers. She slipped her feet into the matching shoes, trying not to trip on the puffed out skirt as she walked towards the stairs.
"Eleanor, where are you? Oh!" Her mother was gazing at her from the bottom of the stairs. "Oh, Eleanor. You look very lovely. Come down so that I can fix the back."
She made her way down the stairs, nearly twisting her ankle at one point when the tall heel of her shoe landed sideways, but her mother made no motion to help her.
"Beautiful, just beautiful," her mother continued, when she finally made it down. "You know, that boy Charles, he's quite fine looking, too, don't you think? He's going to be at the wedding…"
Eleanor closed her eyes and held her breath as her mother tied the ribbon, constricting her lungs.
Half an hour later, they arrived at the wedding. Her mother wore a delicately pink dress, and wore white gloves over her delicate hands. She was on the arm of her husband, Eleanor's father, who wore a black suit and white tie, with a delicate pink flower in the coat pocket.
Eleanor limped behind her parents. She had indeed twisted her ankle when she stepped out of their car, but no one had noticed.
When the ceremony had ended, her mother informed her, "Your father and I are going to the reception. You stay here and help clean up, all right? When you're done, you can meet us there."
Eleanor nodded. Her parents left the sanctuary. She was the only one left. She walked down the aisle, heels clicking on the floor, echoing all the way up to the tall ceiling. She bent down and began to pick up the rice, grain by grain.
When the last piece of rice had been thrown away, she walked to one of the great arched windows that aligned the walls. She gazed out the window, steeling herself for the reception. The sound of her clicking heels followed her as she walked out of the sanctuary, forcing a smile onto her face.
-.-.-.-.-
Father McKenzie glanced out of his study window to see a girl in a completely black dress, smiling calmly, striding to where he knew the reception for the recent wedding was taking place. He turned away and continued to work on the sermon he was writing. Perhaps one day Father Adam would allow him to actually preach his own sermons. Until then, he would continue writing them stubbornly. Surely it was for a purpose.
He arrived home late that night. He had stayed in his study for a long time, until the sermon had been perfected. Father McKenzie settled into a chair by his fire and began to darn his socks. He had a passing thought that perhaps if he had married, his wife would be darning them for him. A single tear rolled down his cheek.
The following morning, Father Adam called him on the telephone, stating that a girl who had attended the wedding yesterday had died. His schedule was busy, so he requested that Father McKenzie do the funeral in his place.
He set down the socks he was attempting to finish that morning, and left for the graveyard. To his horror, it was the same girl that he had seen walking by his study window the previous morning. She still wore her black dress as she lay in her coffin. He glanced around to find that no one had arrived for the ceremony. He took the sermon he had finished the previous day, and preached it to no one.
When he was finished, he left the grave without a backwards glance. He shivered and wiped his sweating hands on his pants, and went back home to finish darning his socks. He wondered why her parents hadn't come.
And there you have it. Let me know what you think? I've never done anything like this before, but like I said, it just kind of came to me.