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By KateC (Katec) on Saturday, April 06, 2002 - 02:26 pm
If Father Ignatius had ever doubted Satan�s existence, the proof was right in front of him, in neon flashing on and off all night just outside his monastery window. �Frolics.� He could either close the curtains and stifle in the heat, or leave the window open and watch the lights winking, inviting, teasing, frolicking on his bedspread like dots of rouge. Long ago, there had been a still where the Grotto and monastery now stood; more dollars than the shrine could ever hope to collect had piled up during prohibition. But business slacked off after liquor became legal, and the Order got a good deal on the acreage. The cave where the still had operated was now The Grotto. Mary presided there now, with flowers and ferns and candles. The monks settled in to a life of holiness, celibacy, and the labor of turning acres of brush into a garden, a shrine for Our Lady. But across the street, nightclubs and bars sprang up and thrived like mushrooms after a rainstorm. Father Ignatius and the other monks lamented that temptation had always been Satan�s method when it came to attracting humans, and with the still shut down, he�d just funneled his business into the places next door. Yesterday, this room had been Brother Damian�s. But there had been rustlings in the shrubbery, setting off the Chihuahua and three dachshunds into a frenzy of barking in the middle of the night until the abbot decided to stay up and keep watch. He�d discovered Brother Damian sneaking back into the monastery just before dawn, wine stains and what looked like glitter defiling his habit. Oh, there had been tears, confessions (�I have sinned through my own fault�), and now Father Ignatius, who was almost seventy, had the room facing the house of iniquity. �Dancers!� the sign beckoned on the building next to �Frolics.� And if he leaned out the window and peered into the night, he could just make out the next one, �Girls, Girls, Girls!� �A lifetime of celibacy,� Father Ignatius whispered. �Not a day without sacrifice, Lord, and now, after all this time, to have harlots flaunting themselves in my window! Lord, in your mercy keep me free from sin and restore my thoughts to holiness and peace.� Father Ignatius yanked the curtains closed and lay down on his cot, wakeful and sweating. Even with the window covered, he could still make out lights flickering behind the cloth. |
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By Eithne (Eithne) on Tuesday, April 09, 2002 - 09:47 am
Great! Was the grotto really a still once? This works fine without the descriptive words, and I like your use of metaphor. I also love all the little dogs. I'd like to see more description of the Grotto (probably impossible without adjectives)and surrounding cheap hotels, money lenders, and sex buisnesses to really get the feel for the island of holiness in the middle of this sleezy neighborhood. |
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By Vince (Vince) on Wednesday, April 10, 2002 - 09:20 pm
Nice use of verbs and metaphor in the end of the first paragraph. Thanks for the image of a drunken monk covered in glitter trying to sneak into a monastary. That's downright saintly compared to what we've being seeing in the news of religious figures. |
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By Sarah (Sarah) on Thursday, April 11, 2002 - 11:23 am
Poor Brother Damian! I loved your description of him covered in glitter and wine. He serves as a nice contrast to Father Ignatius in one way, but also as an emphasis on the danger of the Father's temptation. You have a lot of great verbs in this piece. I really like how you use them to describe the light in the 1st paragraph - the verbs are very provocative and they really set the mood for what comes after. Your use of "like dots of rouge" to describe the light is very original. I like! |
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By AlmaDea (Almadea)
on Saturday, April 13, 2002 - 09:29
pm
I loved that the Grotto was dedicated to Our Lady and that there was a whorehouse across the way. Also that Father Ignatius was sweating against temptation. It was all very human. I liked the phrase "lights winking, inviting, teasing, frolicking on his bedspread like dots of rouge." That was cool-- you described the harlots without describing them and without using adjectives and adverbs. It's funny, too-- I just noticed that of the 4 pieces written for an exercise called "chastity," this is the 3rd that is about sex. Funny. |
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