No harmony on this ash gray day as he rolled up his sleeves to begin the daily chore of cleaning the sanctuary. Walking down to the small church, the cumulus clouds hiding the sun’s momentary glimmer, and all seemed too quiet. Even Mrs. Markle’s dog just sat on the porch staring as he walked by, but did not sound his usual bark.
His skin started to crawl, and goosebumps began to swell on his arms as he spied the broken glass. It wasn’t the glass or the idea of having to sweep up another mess that bothered him. It was the feeling of alarm as he approached the opened door. There was no welcome greeting from the vicar as he stepped over the threshold. The old minister lay crumpled on the floor. The foreboding feelings now realized.
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The Bag Lady 
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