Prayer of the Lonely

Bridget marked herself with the sign of a crucifix before she clasped them before the white statue. Her lips mumbled in earnest prayer.

A familiar voice said, “I know what happened.”

Her lips moved faster but she didn’t move otherwise.

The voice whispered by her ear, “I said, I know what happened.”

“Good for you?”

“I found the body,” it said.

Her eyes dropped to the vial of holy water in her bag. The opportunity wouldn’t come again. In one smooth move, she scooped up the bottle and popped off the cork with her thumb. Her jacket whipped around her as she spun to face her adversary. Only the empty cathedral awaited her. She crouched, sniffing for telltale sulfur.

“What? Chickened out? Afraid I might bind you now?” she called out.

It didn’t take the bait nor did she expect it to, but she could always try. Her free hand crept to her neck, rubbing the rosary hanging there.

From somewhere in the pews, it said, “We were lovers, I thought that meant something.”

“It did. Before you sold your soul.” She tried to pick out which row hid the abomination.

On the opposite side of the room, it said, “That wounds me. I was always this way. You just didn’t want to see it.”

“Maybe that’s cause we knew what I had to do.” Her heavy boots squeaked against the floor as she shifted into a stand.

A sulfur-fragranced cloud rushed towards her, stopping before her. It asked in her fiance's voice, “And, what is that, my one and only?”

“Say good-bye.” She dumped the holy water on him, uttering the incantation.

With his body sealed and the church entrance blocked, he faded into nothing.

Dropping to her knees, she cried.

She was alone again.