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eBook Category: Science Fiction
eBook Description: Carter has been exiled from his diocese on Earth to minister among the heathen of Low Port. Left to his own devices, he discovers more than he'd dreamed possible, and finally understands what it is to be truly human. "...he loved her fecundity, the womanly wealth that thrived on and gave nourishment to the holy seed within her, and spewed Him forth in a river of blood from that mystical slit between dung and urine. Blood of the lamb, the same lamb that stretched in an unbroken line from Abraham's early sacrifice to his own, here in Low Port, with the unadjusted heat and the dotted line of itching pustules surfacing on his neck even now."

eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, Published: Fictionwise.com, 2004
Fictionwise Release Date: June 2004

17 Reader Ratings: Great Good OK Poor

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [128 KB], eReader (PDB) [48 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [37 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [33 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [78 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [105 KB], hiebook (KML) [106 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [65 KB], iSilo (PDB) [30 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [38 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [66 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [52 KB]
Words: 11276
Reading time: 32-45 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

Carter had been a priest for more years than his congregation could remember. Longer, in fact, than he could remember. Sometimes he thought he'd been born into the cloth, expelled from the womb wearing a tiny white collar that still chafed on occasion.

Like now. He could feel the prickly bumps of another heat rash making their presence felt, just above the starchy rim. A thin rivulet of sweat ran down the back of his neck and he sighed, calling on the Lord for patience.

"It is man's lot to suffer", he often said to himself. And suffer he did, here in the moist environs of Low Port. Decades of servitude had inured him to the worst of it; the constant presence of mildew, infesting everything from Our Lady's altar to the black socks his habit required. The acrid reek of sweat rising from the pews, even when the tiny church was empty. The alien sun, at once too hot and too bright, beating down in strict rotation and only ceding its place to the night. And the luminous twin moons that rose every twelfth hour, casting baleful shadows over a world that never grew dark.

Yes, he'd become used to it, or at least, accepting of it. Those first years had been rough on him, so unused to the moisture everywhere, the patches of moist eczema growing lushly between his toes and fingers. "Cover-up Carter", the children called him behind his back, snickering at the long sleeves and full trousers he always wore.