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Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

The following is a piece of writing submitted by JGC on November 24, 2010

Miracle on Arch Street

There were at least two hundred people looking up at the glass wall of the 132 Arch Street entryway that showcased the building's east side. There wasn't anything particularly unusual about the glass wall, or the building itself that held the gaze of so many Boston pedestrians that just as soon bump into you without a second glance then to stop for a quick moment of wasted inaction.

It was the impressive, life like reflection that bounced off that glass wall that caught the attention of those random people walking by on lunch break, or on that quick post lunch hour errand. It was a reflection that before today had not been of any specific interest other than its own iconic presence over the past six decades.

St. Anthony Shrine, a.k.a “The Church on Arch Street", a.k.a "The Workers Chapel" where the employed faithful of the city could obtain some multi-tasked absolution on the way to an important meeting, or stand in line for some of those famous drive-thru ashes at the beginning of Lent, stood across the street opposite the entryway in question.

Adorning the facade of St. Anthony Shrine was an enormous sculpted representation of the Christ on the cross, centered atop the double doors that allow access to the interior of the chapel. It was awesome and inspiring, a statement of the holiness that was represented within and without the actual brick and mortar of the building.

It was this gigantic crucifix whose reflection was cast from the windowed wall of the opposite edifice, echoing back the sacred image. I was among those gathered, staring blankly at this reflection, confused and silent. A woman who came upon the scene suddenly broke that silence.

"Wow! Is that?"

"Yes..." I said with a curtness I didn't necessarily mean.

"But how?"

"I don't one knows..." I answered, quickly.

"What does it mean? That's amazing. It must mean some -"

"It means someone...or something," I said, "doesn't agree with what was done here..."

The conversation then ended as quickly as it had started. Silence resumed. But more people gathered.

As I was saying, it was a reflection that before today had not been of any tremendous importance other than its own grandiose reminder of its actual presence just across the same street, very real and hard to the touch, if you could actually reach it. But today it was important, and totally and utterly amazing.

Yesterday they had just completed the untimely and much protested demolition of the beloved St. Anthony Shrine, a.k.a “The Church on Arch Street", a.k.a "The Workers Chapel" due to gross financial distress and land developer greed. Yet the reflection was still there, just as it had been when the real, larger than life crucifix still hung from the chapel wall just across the street. It was still there, within the atomic makeup of large plate glass windows.

"Yes," I said to myself, now, "someone...or something doesn't quite agree with what was done here..."

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