Saint Hilda

Sour and rancid…she drove the natives wild; bellowing, yelling, covering mouths and carrying-on; Christ put up with less.

Piss covered, spat upon….the fragile Latina smiled with arms outstretched…
A giggle…a wiggle…while servants of the poor poured powders and sprays; a vain attempt for whom?

Her laugh grew louder, louder, and louder with interspersed prayers, “save me Lord….save me Lord.”

And then, like magic the stench was gone, lifted from her brown wrinkled skin…leaving a glow upon the saint as wings lifted her higher and higher and higher and higher…..

To the least of my brethren.

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The writing is based on my surroundings and what I've been surrounded by. This language is coarse and politically incorrect; which I make no apologies for. These characters are not nice and to use any other dialogue would be disingenuine. That being said, I choose to roll the dice. dm seay

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