A/N: I tried... I really did try to find 1700's churches in the 'States but it was too much research for my biology-ridden mind to do. Have fun with some more time inconsistencies.
End of chapter 14:
"It's alright," she responded, pulling herself into the air with the rapid zip of thin wings. "I'll see you later, Bun."
He frowned at the nickname but bid her farewell, tapping the ground twice and finally disappearing into the warren.
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Jack walked next to them as if he were in the family, asking questions such as "What's Christmas?" and "How have you been?" There was zero response but they did talk for a moment or two about the affairs that Jack was eager to study.
"Who is Jesus?" he asked, tapping the shoulder of the man as delicately as he could. He knew that touching people made them cold, and he also wanted the illusion of meeting resistance rather than the ghostly aura he presented. Walking through people was impossibly aggravating.
Now, Jack could not read or write very well but he knew the general idea of it all. So when he saw the Church of Jesus Christ in big letters denoting a large castle-like building, he decided that it was best to go there. It was as if the building itself had answered his question.
When he rested one foot on the stairs to the church, a strange sensation bubbled through his body like water. It was warm now, much too warm and safe. He needed adventure and chills. But curiosity drove him on.
"Hello?" Jack called out of habit. He slipped through the doors without opening them and discovered many precious things inside. There were rows upon rows of wooden benches. Many seats were occupied by people: old people, young people, men, women, children, babies. There was quiet chatter and Jack ignored everyone to look around.
The first thing he noticed besides the people were the windows. But they weren't really... windows. They were pictures. Jack jumped up to fly and see, but fell back with a crash. The sound didn't distract anyone because of their talking. Jack gripped the staff tighter and tried to jump again, but sank alongside his heart. There was no wind in here. He could not fly inside a building. Jack had never been inside a building before.
He ran to the corner to see the windows better. They were gorgeous, indescribable. Jack tried to balance himself on top of the staff to see better; he wobbled, but stood taller than his usual impressive six feet. He marveled at the color and design. The picture was of people, gentle people sitting together. They were happy. Jack looked away.
He slid over to the benches and ran his fingers over the rich wood. Smooth, cold, but full of life. Jack grinned and sat down in an empty spot, somehow feeling very warm by doing so. It wasn't an uncomfortable warmth; rather, a deep kindness, like someone was whispering in his ear. He took a deep breath. More people walked into the hall. The seats began filling up and Jack had to leave the pew. He didn't want to, and didn't have to, but a person sitting on top of himself was uncomfortable. The boy decided to explore more.
In the front of the room was a small setup of toys. It looked like something a child would play with. Jack smiled at the little dolls and squinted at the baby in the cradle. They were all painted and beautiful. He didn't understand why they would be here, though. Why wasn't anyone looking at them? They just sat down and spoke amongst themselves.
Jack waited in the corner until seats were occupied and no more arrived. A man dressed in white and red had gone to the front, just beyond the nativity scene. He stood very tall even though his stature was not. Jack scanned the room for an open space. There were few but he managed to squeeze next to a young girl who had put a gap between herself and a stranger. She shivered when Jack took his seat.
As he sat and twiddled long thumbs, he looked around some more. On the wall was—was a giant T. He cocked his head at it. The T had a man on it, who was hanging by- what were those?
Jack felt his stomach drop.
Nails.
He looked down at his hands and rubbed them together, glad they were free of such torture. Imagining anything even close to being nailed to a cross made him feel sick. He shook his head to get the image out.
The man began to speak.
Jack wasn't sure what was happening, but his heart was beating faster as words flew from the priest's mouth. He spoke of the questions Jack had and fed answers that quenched Jack's thirst of curiosity. He was bouncing in his seat, but the others were still and some had their eyes shut. They were calm. At peace. Jack only stopped moving when the songs began.
The choir sang like the wind. Their voices filled the room and sat in Jack's ears like soft snow. His heart pounded at each note, and though he had no idea what was going on, it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard. The singing was long and every second of it was more precious than the last. Suddenly the man on the T was not as upsetting to look at. He still felt sick to see, but he smiled, like the man was a friend. He bowed his head.
Jack could feel his soul resting in the dead, invisible body. Their song felt of butter, like mist. By the end of it, there was a deep silence and Jack could feel water trickling down his cheek, unsure why but pleased by the serenity of this.
"That was wonderful," he said, breaking the silence. No one else heard him. The peace melted into whispers and prayers. Jack waited for more, but the priest was not speaking. He frowned. No one was leaving. No one was doing anything, really. Jack had a short attention span and he pursed his lips. He wished the music would start again.
Instead of waiting around to satisfy his curiosity, Jack took his staff and left the church to satisfy his boredom. The singing and preaching had been fun while it lasted, but Jack decided that going back in there would be a difficult feat. He felt crisp when the air hit him. Cold, comforting. Jack jumped up to fly just because he could.
As he flew to burn off newfound energy, Jack hummed the songs sung by the choir. He wasn't sure what the words were, and wasn't even sure if there had been words. But he felt better to hum. Soon enough he was drifting off and fell into a snowy area, curling up next to his staff as if it were a teddy bear. He felt safe. Protected. Nothing bad could happen now. Slowly, Jack closed his eyes and rested his voice.
Time seemed to stop; Jack Frost had no dreams. He fell asleep and could feel the globe spinning, but didn't have any dreams. He never had. He didn't know such a thing could happen. Jack hadn't ever been touched by dream sand, which was why he could not imagine in his sleep. But he was calm, happy, touched by the village's holiday cheer. So the slumber was pleasant. He was smiling all night.
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A/N: Dunno if you can tell, but I've never really been to church. Think of this as a slight adaptation or interpretation. Because honestly I have no clue what happens just before Christmas. Or at all, for that matter. Also, what do you think of the art? I did that in a really crappy program and had to turn it sideways to fit on FF.