Holy Water!

There is something about village life that creates a sense of wicked humour from me.
The minister is sometimes a central figure that may bind or break communities.

Read more stories from Friday Fictioneers.

PHOTO PROMPT © Marie Gail Stratford

Holy Water!

‘Water, is the sustenance of life.’ Father Van Gory preached.
Melba and Cheryl were at the back as usual, knitting.
‘Any time now,’ whispered Cheryl.
‘You’re mean.’
‘You mustn’t tell.’ Cheryl dropped a stitch. ‘It’s only vinegar.’
‘Serves him right.’ Melba stared at the priest. ‘Him rubbing salt in folks’ wounds.’

‘Alcohol,’ Father Gory pointed at the Bible group, ‘is a mean spirit.’
He picked up the bottle of water. ‘Let us pray and seek forgiveness.’
He took a large mouthful, then spluttered and sprayed it over his notes.

Cheryl dropped a stitch.
‘Immaculate,’ whispered Melba. ‘Let him seek forgiveness.’