Seeking Salvation

Patsy Collins
 
Communion wine


Nobody had ever done anything to help her.

"God will provide," forcing to exist under their disapproving gaze
tying her down to the dreary town she longed to leave. If she could
get away things would be better.

"You can't run away from yourself," Mother had said on her way to church.

The woman spoke in clichés; the girl found the imagination to escape.

She didn't get far. No further than the bottom of a glass. She escaped
the flat and warmth and food. Each grey morning she awoke; in a
doorway, bus station, cardboard box. She couldn't get free.

The state was no help. It was begrudgingly forced to give her enough
money to exist. Never enough to live. She'd never really lived. Never
would.

"Ask for God's guidance," Mother pleaded. That was no help, the girl
didn't believe in Him.

The church. Oh yes, the church thought she'd live on after death.
Maybe they were right, who knew? They knew they were right about sin.
She'd sinned. Not much, she didn't know how to do more and couldn't
afford to find out. The church would forgive her wouldn't it? It'd
forgive her if she asked on Sunday. Sunday before the Priest ate his
lunch, or if that wasn't convenient for her, she could come back after
he'd finished his tea. On Sunday.

It was Wednesday. The church would be closed to her. She'd spill her
blood on its wide stone steps. They'd see she'd tried the door and,
finding the way to sanctuary and salvation blocked. She'd find her own
way. Away from trouble, from pain, from forgiveness.

Mother would come to church an extra day next week. Sunday to pray for
herself. Again at her daughter's funeral. What would she pray for
then? Forgiveness maybe. Can the dead forgive?

She climbed those falsely welcoming steps. She pushed against the door
barring her way.

It opened.
 

 

Patsy's novel 'Escape to the Country' has been accepted for
publication at the end of March. For more info, please visit her blog