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Lost Scullion

Infant Noodler

     Despite the Guild meeting's chock-full crowd being hushed for to hear the Pilot's Emerald Tavern reading of migrant kinfolk arrivals to New England, an infant noodler's just, rear door bruising distracted them to rumour.

Father Doyle, SJ (Boston, 1845)

Contracted Affection

     As all prior affection for her husband contracted into a tiny glint of wisdom, it's glossy pearl slipped beneath the fog of devastated vision, and streaked unfettered across her reddened cheek.

Mrs Emmerson (Boston, 1845)

Tuckered Wings

 In the jiffy split            it took to exit                             from indoor                                          rank of fetid odors,    an obtrusive bee's                              impudent want of politesse,       startled him                   into upsetting                          the bronze                                        of eastern redbud leafage. As Michael                   was showered                                       in a pink rain                                                  of emollient petals and fallen blossoms,      an upset monarch,                          first to arrive so prior                                                    to its peers,            fluttered erratic a time,                                       until faintly alighting                                                       on a rusted splotch of bark. Stretching gently                       the elegance                                 of tuckered wings,     it rested a moment                          to measure the air,      and,             exhausted from its                                        travels,        was gracefully                   brushing at nectar                                glutting its antennae,           as             a             crow's              nacreous                plumage                    swooped                                       in an                                                           iridescent                                                                   swish,                                                                                                   to                                                                                                    eat it. 

Michael (Boston, 1845)

Satchel Things

     Yea, knowing which tinctures will remedy his ailing patients makes him a physician, its the abacus purchase of lice combs, powders, and other necessities for his satchel, that makes a him healer.

Dr Emmerson (Boston, 1845)

Sure as Peter let Paul in 

     Exhorting him in his urgent manner, Mr Garrison argue telled the late hour broom sweep who'd come for to shoo them off, why, sure as Peter let Paul in, they was to be admitted.

Meribel (Boston, 1845)

Accordance of Cobbles 

     While your tread's impaired by the stones ungathered, its the accordance of cobbles that paves the road.

Father Doyle, SJ (Boston, 1845)

Pox-scarred Beast

    ... its serpent's tail of white gutter houndmen rattled wi'd iron, yoke an' collar, as the pox-scarred beast leered cruelful over God's most gentlest people.
     "Walter! There he is!" jostlin' the assembly wi'd an overseer's fury, he bore down onto the frightened horror of a recent arrived, one eyed young man, "Walter! Grab him!"      ... born to servitude, the toddlin' infant cries his blood in birth to bondage, afore the age of seven.  As slaver assaults on children can shackle the hands of men, captivity's soul grindin' purchase over the African Meeting House hushed God's fear enslaved congregants into a horse-whipped instant of timidity.          "There are no slaves here, get away from him!" 'til Miss Sarah Remond shrieked 'er born-free objection from atop the stairs. 

Meribel (Boston, 1845)

Human Misery 

   What suffering the native idolater must briefly bear to be cleansed of his philistine culture, is of no consequence when compared to the everlasting joys he'll find in the spirit world beyond.  Father Doyle was at pains to contain his rage as he explained to a Maliseet fool, who weighs the fleeting moments of human misery against the unceasing bliss of deliverance, that his child must be ripped from his primitive home, and be given unto God, for his eternal salvation.  One can not feel guilt for causing brief pain to those whom one redeems from hell's unending torments.  The Lord's devoted servants save the immortal souls of heathen children who would be left unbaptized, and be forever condemned to suffer in the afterworld.

Father Doyle, SJ (Bostin, 1845)

Mind Adaze

     Brooding vigilant in a harkened trance, she watched the pallid scar, burned across her girlie cub's jagged stitched brow, just for to catch it blanch ruddy whenever them two bright almonds happen on that tall boy called Jerome.

Meribel (Boston, 1845)

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