Another Eve

March 2, 2010

Father Miguel sat quietly, his divine office forgotten on his lap, and gazed sadly around the garden. The Copa del Oro had been stripped again. The thing had gotten at the roses, too. It had taken one perfect bite out of four, no, five, buds on the fragrant red Mr. Lincoln, just one malicious bite each to leave the bud to bloom deformed. And then it had eaten the miniature Fairy almost to the earth. This is why Father Miguel sat so quietly with a sling shot in his hand and a pile of rocks at the ready. He felt a perfect fool. Read the rest of this entry »



March 2, 2010

His heart was thudding in his chest. Something was coming for him! Don’t think about that, hold on to the woman’s voice. Concentrate! “How many times?” He could only get so many words on the exhale. Three was about right. The panic would build toward the end. Would there be air when he needed to inhale?  

He got the next sip.

“Once. This week.”

Think about something good, something with air. Air! Cool, dry, silky over the lips, oh God, help me! I can’t! Can’t get air!

“Did it hurt?” Sip. “Anyone?” Sip.

The woman paused and thought. “I suppose it made someone mad. “

No, no, don’t go there. Not therapy. Sin. “Anything else?” Sip. Poison air, like melted wax. Nauseous, gonna hurl. Help.

“And, the seventh Commandment.” 

“Yes?” He was drowning. Christ drowned. Couldn’t get air. Way they stretched His arms. There was no air, just her perfume, hair spray, awful. Panic was right there where he could touch it. Something was coming. All he had to do was scream, and then: no air. What happened next? It couldn’t be worse than this. Help.

“The one against stealing, Father.” She sounded exasperated, to have to tell him. It hurt his pride! Read the rest of this entry »