I can hear my neighbour yelling for his dead wife again. We know we'll be fine - we've already placed crucifixes on the walls, ceilings and floors of our house like we do every night because no matter how many times he is told, that damned man keeps thinking he can open the sealed door and talk to her as usual.
I turned to my partner, hoping they would make the call to the long-suffering priests and have them come to catch her wandering body again but they refused to. Said we should just hack off her head and burn her instead - end the poor woman's suffering once and for all but I know that's not our choice to make.
Ours is to call for help and hope that eejit does what's right for them both while knowing that he's no longer capable of doing much more than desperately clinging to the good old days and pretending his wife isn't a vicious, rotting, wandering corpse.
The church's policy is always answer in three rings or less. I didn't even know they had a voicemail until tonight which is far more concerning than it would be for any other small parish. Soon as I heard my neighbour get in his car, tyres screeching as he turned right.
Neither of us said anything but we both reckon his wife is already in the church making herself a feast.
No comments:
Post a Comment