Oswin had lived in the hermitage so long that few could remember when he hadn’t been there. In fact, most weren’t even sure if he were “Brother” or “Father.”
Each day a novice would deliver a jar of soup to Oswin’s door and take away the previous day’s. Apart from the empty vessels, the only sign of him was the raspy sound of him at his daily devotions.
Then one Oswin’s Day, he unexpectedly arrived, vested for the celebration of the Mass.
Sammi Cox’s Weekend Prompt: “Celebration” at 82 words exactly