Breasts Like Fawns

Fray Jeronimo helped Fray Cristobal climb out of the grave and gently lowered himself into it.  Gingerly he slid one sandal then the other along each side of the coffin, wood giving way step after step, till he halted just past what he presumed was the waist.  He reached up to take the lantern Fray Cristobal was holding ahead of him.  He could not believe what he was doing and seeing. With a deep breath, setting the lantern a little behind him, he spooned the remaining earth in front of him with the spade, lifting it to Fray Cristobal to empty.  Finally, reaching the lantern round to the front and squatting, then bracing one hand against a wall he slid one knee fastidiously down to the coffin’s side.  It occurred to him, before making the next move, to pray silently for success and no irreverence.  The face at the head of the coffin lay covered by the veil of her habit folded over from the back of her head.  Heart beating hard, sweat dripping, panting almost too audibly, which he tried to disguise as prayer, Fray Jeronimo brushed and blew the loose dirt off the veil, took its two corners, and carefully lifted it back over the head. That was when the ones above him heard his sharp gasp.

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John FoleyComment
night patrol

Suddenly they were ripped out of my arms, my wife, the baby, and it was hot morning wind beating my face, hot wind in eyes and ears, and I was flying, there were fields below, brown and sunny green fields, and immediately I knew, I knew where I was.  I couldn't believe it.  Alfalfa hillsides, barns, out-buildings, a windbreak of poplars; acres ploughed under, rich and loamy, strewn with cornstalk.  I couldn't believe it looked just like Iowa. …

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STORIESJohn FoleyComment