After spending some time in Las Casas, a city that was rumored to have Mass everyday, looking for the whiskey priest, I decided to leave and search smaller areas for him. Thankfully the first town I decided to investigate was able to provide a very good lead on the whiskey priest. Apparently, he had just left the day before I arrived. Some locals were kind enough to guide me to Mr. Lehr and his sister's place, where the priest had stayed during his time in the town.
Mr. Lehr and Miss Lehr are Protestants living in Mexico. They are of German heritage, and look down at the Catholic church. When asking why they did so, Mr. Lehr told me that he felt it was too much about the ceremonies, and not focused on true worship. The siblings had taken in the priest, knowing it was the Christ-like thing to do. Miss Lehr informed me about how the people had given the priest a warm welcome and eagerly asked him to take care of the baptisms for them. Apparently it had been years since a priest last visited them. Before leaving, the priest had given all the money he had earned from doing the baptisms to a school teacher. A local informed me that a mestizo had come asking for the priest to follow him.
Determined not to lose his trail once more, I set out after the two. I was able to get close enough to catch bits and pieces of their conversations. From what I gathered, the mestizo was leading the priest to his doom. With this now weighing on my mind, I was tempted to turn around and try to forget about what I had seen and heard. I was a mere foreigner in their land, I could not break their law. Yet I someone managed to follow the priest to the hut, where the gringo laid dying. I took refuge from the rain under a tree when the lieutenant showed up, knowing the priest's end was nearing. I watched the hut, listening closely for any conversations, but the rain drowned it out.
Once the rain stopped, I followed the priest and the lieutenant to the city where the priest would live his last moments. I knew my chances of speaking with the priest were gone. I remained in the area until I heard the shot that took the life of a man who I had followed for so long, looking for a story. He was far from perfect, yet I can't help but think his story had more to it than what I knew. As a friend once said, "Everyone is the hero of their own story." Perhaps the whiskey priest was a better hero than what I give him credit for.
YES! I am SO glad someone else took the perspective I took (first person, positive towards the Priest). And, I have to say, hearing what someone else has to say about it is great.
ReplyDeleteI like how you, in a way, upheld the priest in a positive fashion. In my post, I simply pitied him, and basically had a little cry fest by myself. You took a more realistic approach, which I liked.
I really DO think, looking back, that the Whiskey Priest actually is a hero, in a way (after you posed that rhetorical comment).
Overall, good job. Gooooood indeed.
I really like your use of environment to add reality to your post. The use of the rain as a way to interact with your characters was really innovative and added a lot to your work. I also like how you showed the underdog aspect of the whiskey priest when you stated that he was more heroic than you originally thought. This embodies what the majority of readers think when they read this novel. The good for nothing, drunk priest finally does something great, and you gave his credit where it was due. Good work!
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