Street Church

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“Hello, good sir! Have any troubles to remedy yourself of?” Elijah’s almond face lights up like a child’s discovering a new toy. “Write your troubles down. Ask for a direction! Divine winds will take your troubles and bring your mind the key to free yourself.”

Patrolman O’Niel doesn’t smile back. Just stares into Elijah. “No street churches either. Get your things and get’em outta here.”

“Try it, you’ll feel better about yourself and the world. My boss is kinda happy to see good.” Elijah points upward.

“My boss says give you a ticket,if a warning work.” Patrolman O’Neill reaches for his ticket pad and furrows deep ridges on his forehead. “Here, you just cone next Tuesday and explain this to a judge.”

Elijah smiles and takes a deep breath. He walks to the closest pyre and throws the ticket in it the smoldering ash. “My troubles are set free.”

“That’s not going to help you!” Patrolman O’Neill yells “No-one burns my summons! Why I oughtta!”

Behind Elijah an ashen dove flies out of the pyre.

188 words

Wrtten as part of a challenge called flash fiction for aspiring writers, details available at

6 thoughts on “Street Church

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