A Drabble by Patrick Prinsloo

They ignored the people smugglers, made their way across unfriendly borders, memories of overcrowded leaking boats behind them.

A local man, a blacksmith maybe, or a bus driver – they weren’t even sure of the country they were in let alone what language was being spoken – found them hiding in some disused stables, didn’t turn them in, brought food and water, blankets, nappies for the infant, encouraged close friends to do likewise.

It was the priest who betrayed them, partly because he was part of the system, partly because he was troubled by parallels with a much older old story.

© Patrick Prinsloo 2015


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