The Heaviest Stone
We didn't have a church where I came from. Our sins were never forgiven behind lush velvet curtains, on crimson cushions, or in hushed satin voices. Our sins were found in the fields we churned for wheat, in the bellies of the cows we bred for milk, and in the song of the wolves that came to hunt. As children, mama made us roam the fields when we were bad. We were made to scrounge for three stones that would save our mortal souls from sin; one for the wrong doing, one for the pain we caused others, and one for ourselves. We would heave those stones into the well, praying for forgiveness, but I always forgot to pray... I would stare down into the infinite black liquid to watch the rocks fall, and wonder which stone weighed the heaviest.