Seminary Tales #2: Burning Time

Burning.

Murder.

Stenches of charred bodies.

Burned souls.

Flames laughed. And smokes challenged all saints in heavens. Flames danced and swayed with the wind – – and the ledda all around but not with the heights of priestly walls – – and smokes darted their might to the place of thy kingdom come bringing all along the screams of burned souls to heavens or hells, nobody ever knew.

And beyond the heights and mights of that priestly walls, the drapes stood still, and faithful enough, guarding the called who call themselves semens and also the owners of holy cloaks who called themselves Prefects, all of them were preoccupied of their dreams in limbo or somewhere else, the dreams of doing something holier than the ordinary, of becoming guardians of the infirms, the poor and the sick. And just beyond the walls, one soul cringed, cried, burned and charcoaled out of reach.

I was one of the semens – – I hate to remember it now. And I dreamed that night about sex.

(Read more at Sounds of Solace…)