An Inquisition

short story #47

Alvaro Adizon
Aug 7, 2019 · 9 min read

uffing and sweating, the priest arrived at the parish office to see the old woman, the familiar veiled fixture in the pews of the parish, standing in front of the glass doors of the conference room with her arms folded and her face slightly raised in an expression of cold and holy triumph. Past the glass doors the priest recognized the frail figure of the boy, the acolyte who assisted in the Friday and Sunday…