{ w h o } Rev. Jeremiah (solo) { w h a t } Another kind of tent goes up. { w h e n } (Very) Early Monday morning { w h e r e } Field next to the carnival { r a t i n g } G { s t a t u s } Complete (oneshot)
Jeremiah had the tent up before dawn.
That was the best way to do it when you were neighboring with sin itself-- be set up strong and prepared before the devil knew you were there, be ready when he came at you. A team of silent, stoic men in the dim blue half-light had the tent up in all its glory before the first rays of the sun; billowing red and white stripes with sawdust scattered underneath, nowhere near as large as any featured in the nearby carnival but plenty big enough to hold the faithful and sinners alike.
There wasn't too much setup needed inside. Some lights for services that would go on well into the night. Folding chairs in rows that left plenty of room for a wide aisle and a wide swath around the altar, plenty of room to fall to the ground or to sway or to dance. A simple wooden podium. An old metal washtub. Hymnals, Bibles. Rolls of gauze bandages. Rows of polished glass Mason jars, filled to the brim clear and colorless.
A locked wooden box that hissed softly in the dark.
As the sun rose and the others drove off, Jeremiah remained behind to circle the tent, arms out in blessing, holy verses on his lips. Protection against evil, all the world's evils. All the carnival's evils.
He stopped facing the carnival and looked out at it, hands still raised towards the sky, eyes gleaming.
The Church Of The Almighty's Baptizing Fire With Signs And Wonders Following had arrived.