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 »