saltwater gospel

the tide came in sideways the night the preacher went missing. not in. not out. across, like it had somewhere else to be.

by morning the dock pilings were dry and the lighthouse keeper's bible was floating two miles inland, open to a page nobody recognized.

we called his name from the rocks until our voices went hoarse. the only thing that answered sounded like our own voices, two seconds later.

his coat washed up wrapped around a child no one in town had ever seen.

the tide turned again at noon. this time it pulled the church bell out to sea.

his sister found a sermon in his handwriting, dated next sunday.