Father O Flattery: A Short Story

They both looked up towards the ridge. The roof of a log cabin poked its head over just barely enough to be visible. What was once Father O’ Flattery’s white sedan blocked their way up the driveway so they would have to leave Peter’s car. Despite the wreckage around it the Evans’ mailbox was perfectly intact. “We’re going to have to go by foot,” Peter said. Father O’ Flattery didn’t say anything. He stared at the flames with a petrified look on his face. Peter shook his shoulder hard. It seemed to snap him out of his stupor. Peter lowered himself down to his colleague’s eye level.
“Tim, we need to get to the house.”
Finally, Father O’ Flattery nodded in agreement. He rose to his feet but there was still the issue of the glass embedded in his