Colony Heights

People talked about her. She didn’t care. She said she didn’t. Church elders passed her around like a communion plate. Each one taking a piece of her. The preacher took the biggest piece; her soul.

Their affair had gone on for years at Colony Heights.The pretty blonde’s husband never suspected a thing. Shook the minister’s hand every Sunday. Sold insurance during the week. Sponsored the church baseball team. Little kids running around bases with tee-shirts that said, State Farm on em. Red, white, and blue colors on their backs; very American.

And the preacher’s wife didn’t suspect a thing either. The chubby master of the pulpit was always home for dinner. Never missed a Bible study on Wednesday nights. Made sure his children were tucked in by nine. They all prayed before they closed their eyes.

Come one Sunday morning the whole congregation was surprised that neither was in church. Both spouses woke up to nothing beside them in their beds. Just notes on pillows saying, I’m sorry. One day you’ll understand.

They were gone. Some say they left for Lima. Said they saw him selling used cars on the city’s Southside. Others told stories of how they just vanished; disappeared. No one was really quite sure.

The elders found a new preacher. A bright young man with a smile and a golden tongue. Said he’d come to heal em all from horrible sin. Folks had lost faith. And members stopped coming. They’d put their faith in man. They found a new messenger.

Folks started attending other places of worship. They spread out all over town. Searching for salvation in charismatic characters. Looking for a promise of eternal life. Yes. Eternal life. Singing out, how great thou art. How great thou art.


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