The Avenge

It was Thanksgiving! Winter had just crept in! Father Arthur was ensconced in a corner of the Church. The pearly ivory of the snow and the festivities of the season failed to bring delight or comfort to his heart. With time he had become passive and phlegmatic to the world around.   

Tonight, when the whole world gathered with their families to thank the Almighty, he was in The Lord’s abode, but secluded and forlorn. It had been 15 enduring years since he had prayed at the altar, not because he had lost faith, because nothing was left to plead for.

In a flicker, he envisioned his lifetime, his days of youth, his integration into the Church as an Apostle, his wedding to the beautiful Sandra, and the birth of their baby boy. Everyday at the altar, on his knees and with folded hands, he prayed for his family’s well-being and complacency. 

Their lives had been immaculate, .... until an opulent and imperious brat, oblivious in his carousal had trampled his family under his screeching wheels and never looked back to say a word of remorse or shed a tear . It was 15 years ago, on Thanksgiving! Their lives were shattered. Sandra had succumbed to the loss of their child. Since that day he averted himself to The Lord’s service. He had always been a man of God, he sought no revenge for he believed in divine justice.

The door creaked, entered a middle-aged man, clad in black. His gait unsteady and hands trembling. He paced towards the Confession Chamber, on the other side of the veil was Father Arthur.

“Father, I seek forgiveness, for I have sinned, for I have sinned and never lamented. Several years ago, when I was callow and frivolous, I had obliterated a credulous life on this day, before this Church. I panicked, so I fled. Ever since, I have evaded the truth. Few months ago, my 8 year old son was diagnosed with B-type Lymphoma. I had abundant money but I was helpless. He left for his heavenly abode today. I discerned, it was the God’s will.”

“Amen” uttered Father Arthur and smiled. His unspoken prayers had been answered. Today, he had revoked his consecrated values and conceded to the grieving father within him. His apathetic eyes gleamed with gratification. Finally, he had something to be thankful for. Time had avenged his bereavement !!

Word Count: 399                          

A Battle Lost, is Another’s Victory

It was that time of the year again, when the world was engrossed in festive and revelry. It was the time of the year he spurned. The world draped in silver and adorned with resplendent ornamentations sparkled. Despite the dreary gloom cast by the gray sky, the incandescent smiles on elated faces rekindled the milieu.

Throughout the year, his hands to mouth existence did not perturb him. It was this time of the year when his compunctions and frailties confronted him. Inspite of striving hard, he had failed to give his ‘Little Angel’ what she wished for. Every year she hoped for a Christmas with a garnished Christmas tree and presents in a sock, and was disheartened. Today, on Christmas-Eve, perched on a quarantined bench, he prayed .. for a way.. to bestow his ‘Little Angel’ with the joys she deserved and coveted.

A tall, young man in a beige suit strolled down the archaic and bygone path. Bemused and flustered, he sat on the other end of the bench. Despite the icy evening breeze, droplets of sweat trickled down his brow. Few minutes later, he walked away abruptly. On the bench lay a chestnut leather bag. The bag was rammed with wads of banknotes and a card, on which with golden letters was carved a name and address. 

The forthright and righteous him was compelled to deliver the bag where it belonged. But his paternal instincts were transcendent. The euphoric gleam in her shallow eyes would be priceless. His prayers had been answered, a path had unfolded, to tread or not was his choice. His heart delivered the verdict. Tonight, for once, his ‘Little Angel’ would have the Christmas she wished for. On this day of Christ, his inner demons had taken over him.

He was baffled. He had never traded his values for corporeal contrivances. Abdication could cost him his career, but ceding to their demands would mean forfeit of his morals. He accumulated the cash in a leather bag and set off. With a tormented and oblivious head on his shoulders, he meandered away. He was battling his inner demons. Lost in scuffle, he walked away from a bench, forgetting his bag. When realization struck, he smiled and reckoned, perhaps the choice was made for him. On this day of Christ, he had evaded his inner demons.

One man’s lost battle, is another man’s victory :)

Word Count: 399