Cathy Richard Dodson

Published by

at Smashwords

Copyright Cathy Richard Dodson 2004

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The night was filled with the still silence of moonlight as the tall severely clad man made his way across the churchyard. The square granite building in the distance was the one place he could always go for peace from the often harsh realities of his world. Tonight he felt his excitement rising as he contemplated his time of solitude, locked away from the never-ending complaints of poverty-stricken villagers, illness and death, even the chatter of his well-meaning companions. These were his few moments of relief, and he cherished them at the end of each day.

As he pulled open the heavy oak door, he breathed deep, savoring once more the musty odor of the old place, enjoying the damp chill which never quite seemed to dissipate, regardless of the season. His church! How hard he'd worked for it, and how he loved these cold walls etched with the presence of God! Now-to seek out his favorite place, the ancient bench with its swan-chained carving, where he would at last commence his prayers and meditations.

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