After the church service, Rose hobbled along the table, shuffling leaflets and booklets as she had always done. Around her, the congregation shuffled. Their words mashed. Their cups of tea became biscuits and their biscuits became brooms. Their biscuits always became brooms, sweeping up the crumbs they made. If only their teabags were sponges, soaking up the mess in their saucers. Soaking up all the Biblical knowledge on offer here, from the first monks to these new monkeys. His Word poured from them. They were the most spiritual teabags ever. Must be all the holes. If only they could sing.
This one hundred word flash fiction story of mine has been inspired by my reading and enjoyment of the flash fiction stories posted on The Drabble.