Prayer Preyer

Blessed Sacrament had been Father Lockhart's first parish and now would be his last. The seven parishes in between, in five different states and two different countries, had proved a dangerous but merry romp through a lethal minefield. Other than two minor slips and one nearly catastrophic one, he'd prospered. The catastrophic slip nearly nipped his career in the bud. At Blessed Sacrament. A quiet transfer muted that escapade.
He still remembered the boy. So cute. Jerry. Jerry, what was it? Curtis. Jerry Curtis. Now, back where he began, his adventure had come full circle. Father Lockhart noticed one person on the pedestrian bridge, standing at the near end unmoving. As he looked, the man started back across the bridge. Tomorrow morning, school bells would ring, and the bridge would get crowded. The children would be coming. Unknown to Father Lockhart, the person on the pedestrian bridge was Jerry Curtis.
It had been fifty years, but Jerry had finally located the priest who'd condemned him to a life of misery. It was time to take his revenge.