Funeral Gloves

It’s time once again for Friday Fictioneers! Each week about 100 writers compose 100-word stories in response to a photo prompt. This week, the prompt comes to us courtesy of Roger Butolt.

2016 05 06

Copyright Roger Butolt

Funeral Gloves

Boston, 1770

“Rev. Eliot!” Andrew’s wife stamped a dainty foot.

“Yes, Mrs. Eliot?” The reverend looked up from his sermon preparation.

“These gloves! You must have over 2,000 of them here.”

“Memories of the fallen, Mrs. Eliot. It would seem a traitorous act to rid myself of a single one.”

“Messengers of ill fate as I see them,” his wife insisted. “You may as well keep 2,000 dark-winged ravens in your bureau.”

“Ravens would make considerably more noise, don’t you think, dear?”

“And mess,” she conceded. “Honestly, Andrew!”

When the bell rang, the couple knew the collection was about to grow.

***

Actually, Rev. Andrew Eliot collected over 3,000 funeral gloves during a 32-year period. You can read more about death and funerals in the Colonies here and more about Andrew Eliot here.