Disclaimer: Jean Valjean is not mine, and the church belongs to God. *salutes*
The Church
The cart. A moment ago, simply a cart. An innocent thing driving down the road. Now, with the man under it, it's a nightmare instead. The man screams with pain and terror, and the people dart back and forth frantically, trying to think of something to do. No one goes near, however.
Then Monsieur le Maire comes forward. Monsieur le Maire is a good man. Falling to his knees in the mud that has been churned up, he puts his back to the side of the cart. He grits his teeth and strains to push the wheel up. One can hear him groaning from here with the weight.
His strength fails suddenly, and he loses his hold. The cart comes crashing down again. The man under the cart screams again. Monsieur le Maire can hear this, and he looks determined as he arches his back into the cart with renewed effort. Slowly, ever so slowly, it inches up. The man's terrified screams die down into pain-filled moans. Monsieur le Maire is sweating heavily, and the gritty muck from the streets is evident on his new waistcoat.
Still, he ignores this, and soon the cart is high enough that the townfolk dare to fish the man out. He is taken to a hospital by a crowd, and Monsieur le Maire is stopped by the new Inspector.
However, I am distracted and do not listen, for Monsieur le Abbe has come to give thanks to God for the saving of the man, and as I am faithful old church, I must listen to him instead.
Besides, Monsieur le Maire is a good man. I know that whatever Monsieur le Inspector has to say to him, it surely must be thanks in some form. Monsieur le Maire is marked by God as saint already - what could be given to him but praise? Certainly I should know this. I the church have been here longer than the Inspector.
Owari ~ End
The Church
The cart. A moment ago, simply a cart. An innocent thing driving down the road. Now, with the man under it, it's a nightmare instead. The man screams with pain and terror, and the people dart back and forth frantically, trying to think of something to do. No one goes near, however.
Then Monsieur le Maire comes forward. Monsieur le Maire is a good man. Falling to his knees in the mud that has been churned up, he puts his back to the side of the cart. He grits his teeth and strains to push the wheel up. One can hear him groaning from here with the weight.
His strength fails suddenly, and he loses his hold. The cart comes crashing down again. The man under the cart screams again. Monsieur le Maire can hear this, and he looks determined as he arches his back into the cart with renewed effort. Slowly, ever so slowly, it inches up. The man's terrified screams die down into pain-filled moans. Monsieur le Maire is sweating heavily, and the gritty muck from the streets is evident on his new waistcoat.
Still, he ignores this, and soon the cart is high enough that the townfolk dare to fish the man out. He is taken to a hospital by a crowd, and Monsieur le Maire is stopped by the new Inspector.
However, I am distracted and do not listen, for Monsieur le Abbe has come to give thanks to God for the saving of the man, and as I am faithful old church, I must listen to him instead.
Besides, Monsieur le Maire is a good man. I know that whatever Monsieur le Inspector has to say to him, it surely must be thanks in some form. Monsieur le Maire is marked by God as saint already - what could be given to him but praise? Certainly I should know this. I the church have been here longer than the Inspector.
Owari ~ End