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Prose

THE HOLY BREAD

written by Adeleke Kehinde

The rain isn’t a friend to the homeless, well neither is the Sun. But one wouldn’t mess up your carton bed at night. The splatter of the rain drops made the mud to irritate his bare feet and it annoyed him too. Bade was just fourteen but he looked older than his age. So, whenever a site contractor asked of his age, he would tell them he was sixteen. He wanted to swear, the rain was a big mess up for him, he’d have gone to the building site for some work and he’d have had hope of what to eat for the day. But now, the rain meant no work which also meant no food.

The rain stopped midday, although he knew he had no hope for a work, he still tried his luck. Then he spot the cathedral from afar, he had heard the pastors pray and preach, he had heard the loud songs and he sometimes sang along with the rest. Some son of God could give him the hope he needed, just for the day or maybe for life. When he approached the pastor near his car and he told him he was hungry. The pastor smiled and said “Peace be unto you”.

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4 replies on “THE HOLY BREAD”

Peace indeed!

Peace shall put on his heart
A wonderful meal,
Perhaps he should hold his peace and go on his way,

Despite the shortness of the story, it still captured what the title really suggested, the way am seeing it, maybe you should become a journalist, or a REVOLUTIONIST

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