TE22 Potpourri

Michèle Rakotoson

Lalana

suddenly stops, he’s frozen, a statue. The old lady, she scowls, it’s as if her face has frozen in a complex net of wrinkles. The deaconess has begun to chant: “The third angel poured out his bowl on the rivers and springs of water, and they became blood. Then I heard the angel in charge of thewaters say: ‘You are just in these judgments, O Holy One, you who are and who were; for they have shed the blood of your holy people and your prophets, and you have given them blood to drink as they deserve.’” The young woman strangles a scream. She has stood up, as if ready to pounce. The pastor lifts the chalice up to his lips. Naivo thinks he can hear him swallow, the congregation holds its breath, then one voice rises from the throng: A dull thudding is heard. The whole congregation stands up. Sweat beads on Rivo’s forehead. The reading of Revelation continues: “The fourth angel poured out his bowl on the sun, and the sun was allowed to scorch people with fire. They were seared by the intense heat and they cursed the name of God, whohad control over theseplagues, but they refused to repent and glorify him.” “Lord, forgive us our sins.”

“Amen.”

Now the whole church is beating their chests with their fists. Rivo is covered in sweat, still rigid, catatonic. The pastor removes the white cloth covering the ciborium, as the crowd recites in chorus:

“Lord, forgive us our sins and let thywill be done on earth as it is in Heaven.”

By the altar, the deaconess screams, gasping air, the pastor presents the host to the throng. “The fifth angel poured out his bowl on the throne of the beast, and its kingdom was plunged into darkness. People gnawed their tongues in agony and cursed the God of heaven because of their pains and their sores, but they refused to repent of what they had done.” The whole church begins to scream and beat their chests. The old lady appears to drool, the young woman clenches her fists, her brows furrowed, an evil eye.

“Forgive us, Lord, forgive us.”

They sway now where they stand, as one, like a deranged child banging its head against the wall. At the altar, the deaconess looks over toward Rivo and roars:

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