Likely to change her mind as quickly as a hummingbird changes course, Simone was not someone one could depend on to complete a task, and so it was with considerable surprise when she announced to the congregation that she wished to be in charge of this year’s Christmas pageant and with even more trepidation that the congregates, ever mindful that the Lord works in strange ways, allowed her to do so.
Given her reputation with the gentlemen of the county, Simone’s decision to cast herself as the Virgin Mother raised more than a few eyebrows, but holding strong to their belief in the power of redemption, they also held their tongues.
The day of the pageant arrived with a flurry of newly fallen snow, and the small country church, alight with candles and scented with fresh pine from handmade wreathes carefully placed at the ends of each pew, had never looked more beautiful.
The music swelled, the actors took their places and, to no one’s surprise, Simone, true to her nature, had flown the coup, leaving poor Pastor Fred to fill in at the last minute as the Virgin Mother.
Everyone agreed; it was the best pageant they’d ever had.
This post from the Five Sentence Fiction prompt, “Flight.”