A Broken Parish

Friday Fictioneers

Photo credit @YarnSpinner

A Broken Parish

by T. Delaplain

Sweat dripped between my breasts and no amount of fanning would release me from the heat’s hellish grasp.

“That ‘lectric fan been broke since you left home,” my starched aunt sniffed as she marched past me with another bacon scented casserole.

The rotting porch sagged under the weight of each parishioner’s righteous step and the splintered shutters and I were judged lacking.

How many covered dishes had they brought when she’d lost her appetite? How many kind words had passed their lips before the burial?

A flutter teased my ear, “Go, before this small town kills you too.”

Have a seat on the porch and share your sultry tale with Friday Fictioneers.

58 thoughts on “A Broken Parish

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  1. Nicely done. I felt the itch of sweat rolling between my breasts sans bra because of the stifling heat. I smelled the bacon, wanted a bite of the casserole, didn’t want a bite because of implied guilt. Heard whispers in the background.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Great writing, Tracey.
    I can relate to voices staying on and warning us when we need them .
    It seems like she was her aunt’s caregiver in her final days, makes me wonder about her background, her parents etc.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. This was positively cinematic in its vividness, but very literary in that we had to infer from little hints that it was her mom who had died; and the parishioners, far from helping her or offering her love, had sniffed and stayed far away. I think it’s very well written indeed.

    Liked by 1 person

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