Uh-oh, I forgot to write a post today.
It's too late to report anything artfully, or well. I've had my brains blown out by double-barrel work.
I was chatting amicably with my dad last night, walking around the back yard while watching little Rhys be a silly, crazy boy.... Suddenly, I found myself explaining, for reasons I still don't quite grasp, that I am an atheist and have been for about a decade.
In the past this was simply something I reasoned that he did not need to know. At his age, why give him extra things to worry about.
But, oh no, no... now I have burdened him with this new, awful knowledge of me. In addition to the general stuff he always prays for concerning me he'll now have something really specific to chat with God about:
Then of course, Father, there's my youngest son, Sean. He has always been distant, Lord, and rebellious. Perhaps it was my fault....
Ah, forget it. I'll just explain it all when I get there.
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The fallen leaves outside make a rustling sound along the stone driveway.
In the darkness there are the winds through the trees, the leaves on the ground all moving, scraping in unison. A murmur of death.
The season has ghostly powers.
The season has ghostly powers.
Autumn is Satan's Sunday.
.
