Pleading

Joe retreated to the old chapel that he had been going to for years. It was small and probably built in the last century. The wood was old, the pews dark wood, lined with moth eaten silk cushions. It was time for the evensong, the young choir boys filing in quietly, their voices lifted in song as they lined up. Joe remembered back to the time when he and Alec had been alter boys.

Joe felt a hand rest on his shoulder. Joe knew without looking that it was a withered and spotted with age. "Hey Father," Joe said without looking up.

"Joseph. What has you here at this time of day? Is there anything that I can help you with?" Father John asked.

"No. You can's help me. Only He can help me," Joe said, looking up at the crucifix.

"Yes. He helps all who ask," Father John said. He patted Joe on the shoulder, and shuffled down the aisle towards the alter, ready to give the evening mass.

God. Joe was not sure what to say. Please save him. I'll do anything. I'll join the priesthood, bring souls back to you. I'll go to mass, confession. I'll go to Rome and dedicate my life to you. I'll give you anything you ask. Anything.

The choir boys were pitch perfect this evening, their clear voices rising in the stillness of the chapel. Joe continued his silent pleading.

Exhausted, Joe sat back, running his prayer beads through his fingers, black and white beads. Alec's were blue and green.

Joe stood up and crossed himself, walking back down the aisle and out into the night.