Caretaker's Memoirs

For forty-three years, I have swept the floors, lit the candles, and welcomed the faithful here to the tomb of our Saint Ilenora. May she rest in the Father’s glory.

But the faithful have stopped coming. I hear their horses thunder by on the road to Scosglen, charging headlong into the wild to serve the Father.

The lucky few may earn a tomb of their own … and perhaps an old monk to care for them while the world forgets their names.