Chapter Text
Each church in the town of Eden was connected, And soon enough the town people got a hold of the story. The once faint whispers of the incident that involved Father Ernest and Sister Mary now laid in the tongues of the townspeople. Time gave in to the twisting branches of each story, and manipulated by those who wished.
Bishop George contacted churches outside of Eden. He worried for the young Father, and every gaze that was becoming held on him. Even he had began to find himself looking at every passing mirror they passed. He rarely seemed to listen whenever Father Ernest passed a mirror, and observing the slightest movement. He needed more then just the drawing Sister Mary gave him, so be it if it meant his death. Everyone had heard of the incident in the months passed. Even his father, and reaching the grave of his deceased mother. The Young Father received more attention then the day of his ordination.
As he walked out of his house, so did the eyes that once had followed him. He met the stares with the old smile that he had given them when he was younger. Same eyes, yet the judgment was held with a dagger hatred. Another branch began to grow that was misunderstood for manipulation, as the core reason that he seemed forgiven. The elders arched their backs high with arms crossed, as they shook their heads with a shushed mumbles. They were right, so they justified their stories of those who had simply forgiven Father Ernest. They were snakes that began to grown in the town, far more then the heads they had cut off before.
They were the same stares he grew up with, whenever he was with his parents. Even if they had worsened when it became only him and his father. He continued on along his path to the general store to pick up items for his father. It had hurt him, as a kid seeing kids pass by from each window till they were out of sight. His head would turn swiftly before running along after being called by his father. Ernest wanted nothing more to belong. So he clinged onto it like the trees wrapped around the foundations of a home. Despite everything he had done to get their he never forgot about his father. It may have been the one thing that could have saved him, and into the hands of the town.
Father Ernest gave them the humanity that few had forgotten. He also knew that time was changing. Few like him were gaining respectability despite the barriers, but not all of them were so willing to help others. Greed took over them and they looked down at those like those townspeople. Their held held, so high yet bound to the dirt that should have reminded them. That aspect of the town, jumped at any opportunity to shoot Father Ernest down. Now freely able to hate without the social damning that would have buried them. Sister Mary was quick to even defend Father Ernest, she was ashamed.
She knew she shouldn't have spoke to the other sisters about this incident, even if her intention was one out of worry for him.
Everyone had their own rumors of the Young Father. The forgotten praises that manged to creep on their tongue devolved into a rotten sourness. The attention as well felt more observant with a glint in the towns people's eyes grew dimmer. With warnings that he carried very few continued to hold on to him. Those that he had helped stayed along his side with their mouths full, but safe. A death of a dog was enough to keep them silent. A gently smile with a soft glass plate touching the rocked floor. The dog had no reason to distrusts the person who had called it over with food. It never had any reason too. It didn't know what hatred that had grown for him, and his owner.
Those apart of the accused were quick with incompetence, as their shield.
A small chat with Father Ernest meant digging to find anything to hold against him. As, if the damned tree that the townspeople assigned the Father began to weaken. The Father had finished shopping before making his way to his father. A small chat with Father Ernest meant digging to find anything to hold against him. As, if the damned tree that the townspeople assigned the Father began to weaken. He had never committed anything other then the sin of being created. There were many more like him, yet at least he knew of his mother. He knew if the town people had the chance they would be more the socially outcasted. They had taken issue with everything that was involved with them.
They didn't bring any harm to the community, nor did his parents the day they wed. Her family had cut her off financially once they knew she had fallen in love with the local blacksmith. Her parents had believed that she had tainted herself, and he manipulated her.