Through The Blessing And The Benediction

Jubilation had choked her at the jugular, the iconoclast within simmered, and with calamitous calm, she allowed the raw rubbing of the rope its crass course. The crowd below bellowed, violently threw stones, children furiously followed their parents’ example and raised tiny fists in the air whilst grinding their teeth amid the scoping grotesquerie. Her feet tiptoed atop a bending bucket and her black hair glimmered gloriously in the sun. Rotten vegetables smashed across her left eye, her chest, her dark strands challenging the young lady’s resolve. The distant winds wailed, and a chill invaded the village, vitiating the vitality, lacerating across wind-chaffed faces, leveling the land of serenity . The grunting of the gnarling rope—burning and tearing of the neck, resounded truly as church bells rang afar.

Adrienne stood inconspicuously at the foot of the cacophonous company, rosary in hand, trembling and supplicating to the lord above—pleading, with ardent tears she tore through the grey skies with shrieking and howling in the Spirit’s indecipherable language. And those who stood nearby, shuddered with fear; a god-fearing people, hardworking and decent, one and all, felt the undeniable presence of the Most High.

And as the singing of angelic choirs filled their ears, Adrienne fell to her knees and split them open atop sharp stones.

Through the chanting of a speedy and justified death, through the blessing and the benediction…

..all she could think about was, “ This new lingerie is itching the hell out of me! The mayor better appreciate it later tonight.”

∞