The Saints watched silently when the Father sinned against me.
Sunlight through beatific images of a holy few; glorious glass glowed, dappling the room in shattered colour. A broken rainbow; a broken promise, a broken child. Sanctuary spoiled; safety swapped for shame by a weak man’s ungodly urges. The consecrated corrupted; the martyr’s glass truly stained.
The Saints’ silence echoed, reverberating loudly and deafening those who should have cared, drowning out my cries long after the crime.
Unseen.
Unheard.
Unholy.
The Saints watch silently again now; one final, mortal sin. Stained-glass bottles and rainbow coloured pills. Another martyr to silence.
photo credit: No Lens: Stained Glass via photopin (license)
Oops!
In my rush to post this before the cut off, I somehow managed to upload a blank page. How unprofessional. I’m seriously glad that I wrote and saved this in word first, otherwise it would have been completely lost. Apologies.
(100 words)
I had so many ideas generated by this picture of a window that I actually had ‘choice paralysis. Dark stories about surveillance, about peeping toms, about imprisonment. Bright stories about enlightenment, vision and letting the air in. It got to the stage where I almost missed entering anything at all!
But I went with this story. It was easily the strongest. It’s not based on any specific true story, but rather a distillation of horrible revelations coming out of the Australian Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Abuse. My story is set in a church (as this is where the window image took me, and the religious imagery lends itself to juxtapositions between sin and sanctuary, holy and unholy) but this story is repeated in schools, in clubs, in many places that children should be safe but are not. Organisations that should have helped, chose to hide. Crimes covered up and criminals shifted away to re-offend again (and again and again and again…).
Thanks to Rochelle for the prompt and the photo this week, and I encourage you to check out the other Friday Fictioneer’s stories here.
Cheers
KT
Reblogged this on Uncertain Tales and commented:
Oops – bit of a rush and managed to post a blank page. This has now been corrected, and the story included. Sorry folks.
KT
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Ouch. Harsh truth for so many. But never God The Father’s plan.
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I hope my story comes across as a criticism of Organisational secrecy, not religion – this was not my intent. Actions of a Church do not always align with the doctrines they preach.
Thanks for reading and for commenting.
KT
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Your story is perfection. There is nothing, not one word, that would be offensive. You’re a prolific writer of words of various colors. It’s astonishing. I had chills as I read this. Perhaps, it’s from a Catholic School background. Twelve years to be exact. I could feel every sorrowful emotions or manipulative oppression. I am so pleased you chose to write this. I hsd s grest msny ideas that popped into my mind, as well. I went for the criminal. I haven’t read anyone that has gone in your direct with the photo. Thank you for a superb write. BRAVO ..!!!
Isadora p.s. I almost missed this. I thought there wasn’t any post this week. I look forward to you stories.
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Thanks you very much for these very kind words. I’m glad you enjoyed it, and I’m very glad you think it hit the target!
I almost missed the deadline this week (I had 18 minutes to go before close off!) and managed to post a heading without a story… Ah well, I’ll be earlier next time :).
I shall check out your crime story shortly!
Cheers
KT
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Great imagery and alliteration! Nice one.
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Very powerful, KT. I thought Isadora summed it up accurately in her comments. Perfect choice of words painting a sad testament of shame & sorrow.
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