Foundation Stone

Inspired by The Lottery.

The congregation gathered at the center of the main hall was bathed in a dappled light streaming through the cracked and shattered windows. Reflecting off the bone-white floors, the light illuminated the faces of those chosen to pass The Judgment. A tall, stern looking man strode to the center of the room, cracking his knuckles and clearing his throat.

“A’right Suzie, come on up,” he said, beckoning to the girl waiting in the doorway.

“It’s been decided, proper like. We all know it’s the price to be paid for what you done; always has. You understand?” he asked, his dingy yellow eyes peering over the rims of his old glasses.

“Not really. Daddy said The Judgment ‘twas what’s right … but, then again, he ain’t here to receive it,” she said, a hint of defiance flashing in her eyes. Reverend Jones’s pointy chin jutted out in anger.

“Right then. John," he said, pointing to an oafish man in a special white hat with holes cut out for the eyes, "you got the first right; then, t’others.”  

John lifted the Blessed Stone, and flung it mightily into the face of young Suzie Morris.

The End

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