I’m cheating on this second post for The Sunday Whirl’s wordle #33, http://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2011/12/04/wordle-33/, with the words: amorous, subtle, inkling, laden, genuflect, vanilla, mission, bark, crusted, precipice, December and trivet. I thought they were the most difficult words yet and the use of the wordle words felt contrived in my first attempt. I’m cheating now because I have read all the other submissions, and each added another spark to something boiling in the back of my demented mind. Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore.
by Mike Patrick
It was Friday as she walked the mile to the Mission church
just as she had done every Friday for thirty-eight years.
Reverently, she genuflected and crossed herself
before the statue of Jesus hanging on the cross.
She wept. Her tears flowed every December
as she thought of His upcoming birthday—
but this December was different—her tears were different.
As she lit one of the aromatic vanilla candles she’d brought from home,
she wondered if Jesus could forgive her of her sinful thoughts.
For thirty-eight years, no man paid attention to her.
Now, Señor Pérez had been making subtle, amorous advances,
and Señor Pérez was the most handsome man in the village.
She had an inkling what he wanted was not her hand in marriage.
It made her feel strange; she longed to be a woman
but her heart was laden with guilt.
She felt herself standing upon the crusted edge of Hell’s precipice.
She could almost hear the bark of the demons below
and feel the fire beneath the trivet reserved for her filthy soul.
Even with the fear of the eternal damnation, she was getting no younger.
In prayer, she considered the price of a night’s love with Señor Pérez;
the cost of becoming a woman.