By Eric A. Clayton
The Pilgrim – sacramentally renowned – drew crowds wherever xe went. Rowdy, religious affairs full of trumpet players and would-be penitents and curious onlookers whose hands were stuffed with prayer beads – "do something with your hands; you’ve only one chance to impress the Pilgrim” – by well-intentioned believers.
“A journey of purpose through the galaxy,” they said. Like a low-budget travel brochure. It was what they all wanted: direction, necessary movement, a goodbye with no look back. Responsibility expunged. A pilgrim’s dream.
So, the Pilgrim – expanding upon dogma – granted those good spirits their greatest desire, and left each subsequent planet void, dead, expunged.
About the author:
Eric A. Clayton is the author of "Cannonball Moments," a work of spiritual nonfiction. His essays on spirituality, parenting, and pop culture have appeared in America Magazine, NCR and more. He lives in Baltimore, MD with his wife, two young daughters and their cat, Sebastian.