Flash Fiction

The quick little flash blog I posted last night was just a quick attempt to incorporate watching paint dry into a flash blog and I had a little fun with it, Now to the real deal:

Shakespeare in Brutus' speech to the assembly of senators after the murder of Caesar said" The evil that men do lives after them. The good is oft interred with their bones"  those words make me wonder what my history and eulogy will consist of.

Why  do I ponder this? Well as the Church bell tolls midnight and I prepare for the final Mass of the evening I cannot help but hazard a glance towards the back of the rectory where I know my special garden is planted. Each seedling containing a subtle but meaningful marker that allows me to remember exactly the circumstances surrounding my special harvests.

Will  men think of me as evil if my deeds are ever discovered? How could they? I am working under god's guidance and all godly deeds are necessarily good.   Besides who else but I cares so deeply for the halt, lame and downtrodden in this desolate , poor and depressed  district? I alone have released them from their suffering and sped them on to the rewards of Heaven! 

As I complete the final words of the mass and the parishioners, mostly the homeless with no where else to go and a few of the devout, rise to leave, I again get the special feeling that I know can only be a sign from my Lord that I have more work to do. I quickly go to the egress and as I wish my parishioners goodnight I ask one individual to please remain behind for a few words in private about a new program I am establishing here at the church that may be of some help to him.

I observe in his eyes  the hope and distrust that are endemic in the poor and homeless of this area, but my kind words, spoken softly as if soothing a skittish beast , have a calming effect and he accompanies me back to the rectory with no hesitation. 

I guide him out to my garden area and without speaking grasp him around his throat and strangle him. He struggles weakly but his wasted abused body and muscles are no match for my godly strength .Now I look into his eyes as the life leaves his body and see yet again the gratitude and grace that every one of my special harvests has shown me. I take a small coin to use as his memorial from his pocket as I lay him out in preparation for his final resting place in my garden.....God is indeed great, and I am blessed to be his instrument of mercy!!


Uploaded 07/14/2011
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