Asylum - Primeval Drabble
Connor hadn't been in many churches.
Weddings, sometimes, or funerals. Or, as a child, he would sit through the Christmas service with his classmates.
This wasn't like any church he'd ever seen, plastered and crude inside. It wasn't much warmer than the street.
But it was asylum, sanctuary. The men who were chasing him with pitchforks and torches couldn't follow him here.
His apparently foreign accent and strange words had made them suspicious. The bleeping of the handheld ADD had convinced them of witchcraft.
He didn't speak to the priest who stared at him, just held out his hands imploringly.
Continued in Angels and Demons
Weddings, sometimes, or funerals. Or, as a child, he would sit through the Christmas service with his classmates.
This wasn't like any church he'd ever seen, plastered and crude inside. It wasn't much warmer than the street.
But it was asylum, sanctuary. The men who were chasing him with pitchforks and torches couldn't follow him here.
His apparently foreign accent and strange words had made them suspicious. The bleeping of the handheld ADD had convinced them of witchcraft.
He didn't speak to the priest who stared at him, just held out his hands imploringly.
Continued in Angels and Demons