Oh my god,
Do you know it's winter? I hate to sit in the cold and do a prayer. I repeat words I don't understand and I will be honest. I don't like you. You never showed yourself or lifted a hand as my parents beat me. If your son died for me why is it I am called a sinner? How about all the bad things you did and my parents? I guess that doesn't count because you all are adults.
I like you to know this is the last time I will kneel and sit on my knees to say words I hate. By the way, there's a splinter in my knee because of the floor and it's infected.
I go to bed now and hope I won't suffer the entire night from cold.
She crawled into bed and couldn't stop shivering but felt satisfied. The pastor and grandmother might not be happy but at least she didn't lie and wasn't a hypocrite. There was no need to thank the invisible man for what he had never done besides... he was never around.
Problem solved asked the wolf next to her bed.
She nodded. He noticed her shivering.
I'll keep you warm tonight, don't worry I'm gone before dawn.
He hopped on the bed and with her arm around his neck they slept happily ever after.
Artists? It's true what they say. You will always find a part of them into the art they share.
Painting: Evening Prayer by Anna Ancher (1888) - Public Domain
The contest "Art & Writing" is hosted by @solperez