His Will

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Bern's Prose.

His Will ?

 

A side road just off the high street why I turned into this road I have no idea. It was as if my feet had a will have their own it was they had command of my body. It was as if I had turned into a Zombie. No will of my own. Yes it is my feet definitely my feet in command. Now where are my feet taking me what will happen on this day of all days? It is my birthday and I had other plans for today of all days. Now my feet are in charge, will they let me celebrate? I doubt it I have always had this trouble with my feet. Why even at school my feet would get up and walk out of the classroom. I always got the blame. No one said anything about my feet.

 

It was shady in this road any my feet decided to stop. Why here I asked myself. What is here to make my feet stop? I was hardly prepared for the way the feet turned my body sideways and walked up the two steps. One of my feet kicked against the door. The door flew open and there was I standing in a dim dirty looking Church. Why this Church had not been used for years. Some sleeping places were still to be seen possibly where tramps and down and outs had found a dry roof over their heads during the winter months. I decided to take a seat my legs were beginning to ache and my feet were playing me up something wicked. They want to carry on walking but for once I was going to stay where I was. I needed the rest. I made myself as comfortable as I could then the Church Organ began to play an old Hymn, one of my favourites. (All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small.) Tears slowly rolled down my cheeks my feet had unknowingly brought me into a place where I have not been for many years. I did not know whether to curse them or kiss them.

 

The voice, soft gentle, it was as if it was speaking to me. You have not visited me for a very long time my son, were you too busy with the things of this world? You should keep up with the Heavenly you know. Is it too much trouble to go to church? There are many that need help you are strong, you are intelligent why you would be ideal to be a helper. The voice murmured I must leave you now think about what I have said. The Church Organ played that very old hymn (Abide with me fast falls the eventide)I must have been weak for my feet took over again and I found myself running down the street. My feet did not stop until I found myself outside the local Hospital.

 

Standing outside of the hospital a man approached me and asked if I wanted a job. Without thinking I said yes. I filled a form in and was given a brown long cotton coat. I was introduced to Stan. Stan was to show me what to do. I never realized how much work a Hospital Porter had to do in the course of a day or even a night shift, Heavy oxygen bottles slung over one’s shoulder carted to which ever ward wanted oxygen for a patient. Then the worst part, taking the bodies that had died down to the Mortuary to be picked up by the different Undertakers.

 

My feet behaved themselves while I was at work, after work no matter how tired I was, my feet took over and I found myself back in the Church I took me two months of my spare time to just clean the Church of all of its old paper and wood that someone had tried to light a fire to hold out the cold. Slowly but surely I replaced the old locks on the doors, glass for the windows. Four young men became interested in what I was doing now I have four strong young helpers and my legs are a lot stronger now and I feel that I am taking back my power over my feet. They do not have it all of their own way not any more they do not, The Church Organ is now played regularly by two other musicians that have joined us. Even the Bishop is interested in what we are doing. Now people are coming on Sundays to Hold Church Services. The Bishop has told one of his younger Priests to take over the services. No arguments from my feet as long as I go once a week to the Church. In fact I am beginning to wonder if it was my feet after all. What about that voice that spoke to me as my feet first brought me into this dilapidated old ruin of a church. For once this old scribbler has written something that I am sure will find favour with many of you my readers.

 

 

 

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