Zeroflash is a monthly competition which I have only occasionally entered - something which I really should rectify as it's a good place to exercise those old flash muscles. This particular story was my first entry here for some time, probably because they chose a genre dear to my heart ... horror, naturally.
Zeroflash 2nd Place
Mary held out her hands, palms up. Blood dripped on the floor.
“The stigmata of the damned,” said the priest. She moaned at his words, a bleeding Madonna. His tableau was coming along nicely. “Mother Mary,” continued the minister kneeling down beside her. “Mother, giver of life, but that’s not you … is it?” He nodded at the body lying next to her, still and silent. “Your only begotten son,” he said. “That too is a lie though … isn’t it? For our sins God gave his only begotten son. Would you do the same?”
She shook her head, whimpered in pain.
“No? Another lie,” he said. “You’ve done it before.”
Did she remember? Was that shameful memory buried so deep she’d forgotten? Her sin. A baby left to die. He watched carefully for that light of awareness to reach her eyes, was gratified when he saw it. Now she knew who he was, this preacher she had welcomed so unquestioningly into her home.
“But I didn’t die, did I mother? So here we are—a holy family, a trinity—remembering the message of Easter, the power of the Crucifixion.”
The empty cross he had fashioned stood ready against the wall. Hammer and nails lying at its feet. Metal already bloodied from Mary’s own martyrdom. Now it was Adam’s turn. The priest dragged him across and raised him up onto the wood, ropes holding him whilst iron pierced flesh. When he’d finished, the minister kissed his brother on the cheek. “They named me Judas,” he said, ripping the dog-collar from his neck. “Pretty apt, don’t you think?” Then he turned and walked away, leaving behind a Madonna and Son waiting for a resurrection that would not come.
A writer - I think that says it all.