Olaf Olafsson pdf The Sacrament pdf Download
Olaf Olafsson pdf HE HAD COMMITTED A CRIME. WHILE THEY WERE knitting he had allowedhis mind to wander. He liked to let his thoughts drift to distant places,where there was no sadness and the nights were filled with pleasantdreams. Sometimes he would travel to the farm where he had spent thesummer before last, to the barn, where he threw himself onto the hay, or tothe stream, where brook trout hid beneath the banks. Sometimes he wouldlose himself in the comic books his father brought back from his voyages.But he never let his thoughts take him to the hospital or the cemetery.She had snatched the knitting from him and ordered him to place hispalms facedown on the table. His hands trembled slightly, but of course heobeyed. The other children pretended to be absorbed in their own work,but he could feel their eyes watching him, and her as she loomed over him.Still you insist upon sullying yourself in the eyes of the Lord, she said,unraveling his work, the first tentative rows of a scarf. And what is thismess supposed to be?Assuming she didn’t expect him to reply, the boy remained silent. Butshe repeated the question, hissing this time:What is it?A scarf.She scoffed, holding the tangled wool aloft for the other children tosee.Look at this scarf! Who wants to try it on?Too terrified not to humor her, the children gave nervous, stifledlaughs. Save for her class favorites, two girls who chortled out loud.Clasping one of the knitting needles, she pressed it into the back of hisright hand.Why did our Savior suffer on the cross? Why? He suffered for you.They drove nails into his hands, like this . . . That is how he saved you.And what do you do to repay him? You belittle him. You shame hismemory.With each emphasis, she dug the needle harder into his hand. Tearspricked his eyes, but he dared not make a sound. When at last she fellsilent, she waited a few seconds, which seemed to him like an eternity,before pulling the needle back and ordering him to stand up. He followed
her into the corridor where she unlocked the broom cupboard and pushedhim inside. He heard the key turn, and then her footsteps receding.He knew the cupboard well. It was where they kept buckets and mops,detergent and cleaning cloths, as well as salt for deicing the sidewalks.Once, he had used an upturned bucket as a seat, which had earned himfurther chastisement when she finally opened the door. And so, this timehe decided to stand and gaze out the window high on the wall, a tinywindow that looked out on the church. He rubbed his sore hand, where theneedle had left a red indentation, but no blood.
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Olaf Olafsson pdf