Discretion of Priests

A discretion of priests might be imagined capable of keeping a secret, but no.

The entire community where their conference convened was soon whispering about the disappearance of a certain someone at the top.

As the days passed, the rumors became increasingly fanciful. Though none quite as strange as the truth.

Whispers of murders and mayhem. Talk of loss of faith. Aliens were said to have abducted not only the one at the very top, but half of everyone else as well, all the way down to the lowliest of assistants.

Yet while the discretion of priests was not discrete enough to keep the disappearance a secret, nor even capable of not speculating upon the cause of it in a most fanciful manner and in the hearing range of outsiders to boot, there is something to be said for total ignorance of the actual truth. For had the priests known the truth, someone would have spoken it, and that would have been the end of The Church right there.

As it was, it took a moment to replace the one at the top. It took some more time to find people to replace quite everyone else that had been lost.

It was especially difficult to replace the cook. You see, no one knew exactly how the cook had made their food always taste so very delicious… Alas, no one quite as good at cooking was ever encountered, yet someone was eventually employed.

Little by little everyone settled into their new positions within the hierarchy of The Church. Days passed. Weeks and months. Work got done and sermons preached on every Sunday.

Food was eaten. Even if it was always a little bit of a disappointment.

Life went on.

Rumors became a thing of the past. Almost forgotten, though never quite.

A few years later, it was time for another conference. Held at a different place from that rather unfortunate previous one that almost no one ever spoke of anymore.

Priests convened.

And…

Well…

This time it made no difference at all whether the discretion of a discretion of priests is great or nonexistent.

You see…

The one at the top returned.

Together with the cook.

And this time, there were no half measures.

When they left again, they took with them all the priests, and all of everyone else on Earth.

Though no one in one piece.

This Little Girl

Once upon a time, a little girl walked through the woods.

A brave thing to do, surely, as there are all sorts of creatures there besides the ones we see.

She walked through the woods unharmed.

The little girl came to a village. A village that was cursed.

An evil witch had turned the inhabitants of the village into rats.

The little girl walked through the village unharmed, uneaten by rats.

When night fell, the little girl slept atop a large rock.

It was a sacred rock where people used to sacrifice other people to Gods. And those Gods still waited, hungry, for humans to do so again.

But the Gods let the little girl sleep, undisturbed.

In the morning, the little girl breakfasted on berries and drank water from a stream.

The berries she ate were baneberries, and the stream was poisoned by the carcass of a deer. But she was fine.

The little girl walked on. And on.

After walking on for many days, and sleeping many nights, after facing many more dangers, and always being alright, the little girl came to a large city.

The city was ruled by a dreadful tyrant, whose favorite thing to do was stringing up small children by their feet, slitting their throats, and eating their remains.

But the tyrant let this little girl pass through his city untouched.

Where the city ended, began the sea.

The little girl chose a boat, and sailed away.

And everyone in the lands she had walked through sighed a great big sigh of relief.

For if there is one thing that everyone had learned by now, it was that of all the dangers in existence, this little girl was the worst.