Gerta said, ‘If you’re to stay you must have the Lord in your heart.’
I thought, I’ll take the Lord, if it gives me a roof over my head and a place in bed with you. So I said, ‘I’ll take the Lord, gladly,’ and kissed her honey skin.
She said, ‘I’ve asked Preacher Bartel to baptize you on Sunday.’
So I said, ‘Right-oh,’ though I know the dark-hearted river will pull me down once I’m deep enough, and no Lord will save me. The water knows who I am. It won’t give me back once I’m in.
This is a 100-word story for the Friday Fictioneers, a lovely international writing group hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. This week’s photo comes courtesy of Rochelle. Click here to join the Fictioneers, and click here to read this week’s stories.