For Sue Vincent’s #writephoto writing prompt.

Turn off the lights, the priest muttered in his head. Turn off the damn lights!

The church had been refurbished and modernised against his will. The parishoners had raised most of the money and the diocese had donated the rest. They’d all rallied round big mouth Gallagher when he’d come up with the idea and there’d been no stopping the fund-raising events, one after the other until they’d hit their target.

Father Collins thumped his way up the stairs from the sacristy, eyes cast down to his feet, refusing to look at the flashy new brickwork and the new skylights with the ridiculous tinted glass. He had been a young priest, fresh from County Cork when Vatican II had turned things upside down. Letting the men and women sit together was a great mistake, and forcing the priest to face their thick faces to…