A few weeks ago, Eric posted about a writing exercise in which you only use single syllable words. I decided to give it a try, but first I had to come up with a title to work from. I cleared my mind, set forth the constraint that it was to be a phrase consisting of single syllable words (might as well start off on the right foot) and took the first thing that popped in, which happened to be “one sin”. Now, it is entirely possible that my subconscious was instead trying to convey the phrase “once in”, but I think “one sin” has more potential. So, without further ado, it’s time to get all monosyllabic.
Once in the church, I found the priest with a frayed frock tied much too tight ’round his neck. I thought that I might just back out the way that I had come in, but some other soul who had come in from the cold blocked the door. Her hand flew to make the sign of the cross as she weighed the scene in front of her. She must have seen too much of the type of show where the perp hung out and got caught, since she eyed me with a tinge of fear. I tried to speak, but found no words could be coaxed from my throat while my lips pursed and then gave part, all with no sound. By the look in her eye, this was not what she would need for us to get past this point. “Not me,” I croaked with a whisp of drawn breath, while she paused to stare at the floor.
When her eyes once more were raised, she spoke, each word forced like a great weight from deep in her chest. “One sin, that was all I came back to make up for,” she said. “And now,” she said as she crossed the floor with new found drive, so fast that I could not move, “I have to live with one more.”