Church Bazaar: Quaint
“Oh, honey look, there’s something going on at the old church over there!”
Michael Larson did his best to hide his reaction—which was less than enthused—behind the shades of his sunglasses. So far today he and his wife Sandy had visited no less than the remains of seven of Visby’s twelve known medieval church ruins. By this point they were all starting to look alike, but seeing as it was their honeymoon and Sandy had never been out of the States before, he was willing to play along.
“It looks like some kind of pop-up market.” The church in question was one of the more dilapidated ruins they had seen today. It was constructed of stone that was now gray and weathered by time. At some point the roof had caved in and only the outer walls remained. Simple but graceful arches surrounded the openings where stained glass windows had once been, and in the pristine green lawn that the church sat on, was a small graveyard.
The headstones were large slate affairs that had the same weathered look to them as the church’s exterior. They reminded Michael of Halloween decorations that people sometimes put up on their own lawns. The landscape on which the church sat was utterly devoid of vegetation save the immaculate and obviously well-kept graveyard. There was a gentle slope to the ground, but as far as Michael could tell, there hadn’t been any trees in this area for centuries. From this vantage point the church appeared to have been placed there by some giant who had since forgotten it. It was beautiful, picturesque, and lonesome all at once, and for some reason Michael found himself wishing that they would just simply drive by it.
Glancing over at Sandy’s rapt expression he knew that wasn’t a possibility. In addition to visiting every ruin and point of interest since arriving to the Swedish island of Gotland, they had also stopped at every souvenir and gift shop for miles around.
“Oh, it’s a church bazaar, Mike. Can we stop? Please? Just for a little bit and then we can head back to the hotel for an early dinner.”
“Sure.” Michael pulled the car over to a spot near the church that would leave enough space for the vendors and shoppers to come and go. Strange, but theirs appeared to be the only car that he could see, and as to where exactly these people had come from….No matter. Sandy was already unbuckling her seatbelt and was gathering her purse and canvas shopping bag in her hands. Michael found himself smiling despite his desire to head back to the hotel for dinner, a warm bath, and some much-needed quality time with his wife. Sandy’s exuberance could be infectious at times, and it seemed it had already cast a spell upon him.
He quickly pocketed the keys and strode over to her side of the car. He slipped his arm around her waist and with the other gallantly plucked the canvas shopping bag from her. “Allow me, milady.”
She giggled and swatted playfully at him. “If you insist, milord.”
