I still like it! I hope it's good enough to get me through to the final I hope you enjoy too.
Litany
The key to the tabernacle isn’t in my vestment pocket. Eucharistic ministers used to do all of this while we performed the rites. Marcella Cochrane had filled that role once.
I am frozen before the tabernacle. I remembered her coming to me, begging a much younger man to save her from her husband’s beatings and belittlement. “Before the baby comes,” she’d said.
“For better or worse. That was your promise.”
Why had I said those words, that empty litany?
“And he promised to love and honour me. Is this love, Father?”
I had no answer, but she did.
“Oh, what would you know.”
The congregation is growing restless behind me. The Deacon appears with the key. I retrieve the ciborium, almost dropping it. Liver spots on my shaking hands reflect the state of my soul.
Why had I involved the bishop? He had gone to Michael Cochrane, who once again ‘punished’ his wife for embarrassing him. Imagine being more embarrassed about what the priest knew than what he did to her?
She almost died. Tommy Cochrane was born with “profound disabilities”. That was my fault.
As I hold up the Host, the congregation repeats “Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world...”
Michael’s body was found yesterday, two miles from home. Of course there were rumours when he disappeared, but nobody involved the police. Justice had been served. Nobody accused her. “Let he who is without sin...”
I cast no stones. I had done what was needed.
As always, I welcome constructive feedback in the comments, or if you just want to tell me I'm brilliant... ;)
A beautiful, disturbing, stunning piece of writing. The back and forth between the rite and the thoughts of the priest was very moving. I loved the line about the liver spots. Well done!
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