A Little Friar During the Night of Terror!

(MARTIN BUREAU/AFP/Getty Images)

(MARTIN BUREAU/AFP/Getty Images)

He walks among the wounded, and the dead.  The City of Lights has become the City of Fear.  The tears well up in the eyes of the little poor one, because he loves the French people.  His father made his fortune selling French cloth,and he had the name of his first-born son changed from Giovanni to Francisco to honor France.  In his youth, the little one would dress as a French troubadour, entertaining the young ladies of Assisi with French love songs.

He kneels down beside one of the wounded, who is crying in pain and fear.  He takes the person’s hand, bends over, and sings to him in French.  An EMT rushes towards the wounded person, he thinks he sees a dark robed friar kneeling over him.  He blinks and the friar is gone.  He kneels beside the injured, who is now quiet, and has a peaceful look on his face.  “Paix!”

The Cure – Friday Fictioneers

the shelfThe physician looks at his bottles of potions and salves.  He knows they have done nothing to cure this frail man’s infected eyes.  This situation calls for a drastic cure!  He has read in an ancient text that cauterizing the patient temples will stop the flow of pus.  He prepares the hot iron; the Poverello’s brother friars fidget.  When the holy man sees the red hot iron, he addresses it as “My Brother Fire!”  He prays it will be gentle to him.  The physician steadies his hand, and applies the iron.  The brothers flee the room!  “I felt nothing!”