Friday, December 31, 2004

BY YOUR SIDE

PROLOGUE

Hey there, my name is Fedelina Cherone and I’m eighteen this year, as according to earth’s time. Previously, I went to school like every other teenager and like any average girl, I loved shopping too! But unlike any normal person, I was immensely blessed by GOD.

You see, when I was sleeping and dreaming, I often visited a world far different from ours. It was a place of angels; a place of goodness; a place in the heavens—the Kingdom of GOD. Don’t believe it? Believe it. There were two others who experienced the same thing. And if you must know, angels truly exist. I’m prouder to say that my guardian angel is THE Archangel St. Michael.

People say the LORD works in a mysterious way. That statement is infinitely right because I never knew what GOD had installed for me. I did not understand why I could see Heaven and walk amongst holy beings. I could not comprehend why GOD chose me to do what HE wanted me to. HE saw through my weaknesses and transformed them into my strengths.

As LORD JESUS once told St. Paul a long time ago, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9 NIV)

This is a story dedicated to the ALMIGHTY and to all HIS faithful believers. In any way, I pray that whenever you start doubting HIS presence, you can remember my tale and stand strong when you think you are at your weakest.

“For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

Thursday, December 30, 2004

Chapter 1

Mykelti:

I looked at Fidelina in amusement as I heard her groan aloud. “School’s done for the day. So, why the groan?” We were walking back home. Home, for the two of us, referred to the Chambre de Dieu Orphanage. It was an orphanage run by an organization of nuns.

She rolled her jade-green eyes and pouted, “Didn’t you catch what Mr. Straven said?”

Mr. Straven was our Mathematics teacher. His lesson was on the last period. I immediately knew the reason for her annoyance. “You mean the Math homework he gave us?” I chuckled.

“Obviously! You know how much I dislike numbers,” my sixteen-year-old friend complaint. “Why do numbers have to exist in the first place?”

I shrugged. “They must be really important though since even the Bible counted the days when God began Creation.” I couldn’t help but show a teasing smile.

“Ha-ha,” Fidelina said dryly, tugging on the strap of her backpack around her chest. “Sure, pull in God to keep me speechless like you always do.” A smile, however, traced her lips, which indicated that she received the joke well despite her statement.

Fidelina and I were childhood friends. Chambre de Dieu was not the first orphanage I lived in. It was the second. I was transferred there when I was eight. I met Fidelina then and she was completely different from how she was in the present.

A little girl with unkempt chest-long light brown hair, a strange loner and always muttering words no one could hear… that was how she used to be. She said countless times that I was like a God-sent gift to her; the one who brought her back to light. At times, I really believed it was true because the moment I saw her, it was as though I had found the purpose of my life. Odd. I thought so too.

It was an awesome thing to see her laughing. The first smile she gave me was the best. She had been through a terrible past and I was glad she grew out of it and left it behind.

“I hope Ethan doesn’t get into any trouble for punching Terry. Terry deserves it for picking on Eliza,” remarked Fidelina coldly.

I remained silent, choosing not to comment. She was referring to the incident which happened during recess. The infamous bully in school from the class next door had said some hurtful and offensive things to Eliza who was Fidelina’s close friend.

I wasn’t certain why but apparently, Terry’s act triggered Ethan’s anger despite never being a good friend or such with Eliza. Without saying a word, he shove a fist at him and broke the bully’s nose. A teacher who was walking past the class along the corridor witnessed the punch. Doubtlessly, the two boys were sent to the principal’s office.

“You don’t think what Ethan did was right?” asked Fidelina, peering at me upward, trying to catch my eyes. She was a head shorter than me. I shall admit I was exceptionally tall for a sixteen-year-old.

Taking a right turn at the bend, I thought carefully before I answered her. “I agree that Terry was wrong for being mean to Eliza but I also think Ethan was wrong for hitting Terry even if it was for the right reason.”

“But…” she protested.

“Violence is never right, Fidelina,” I emphasized. I had a feeling she would have done the same if Ethan did not beat her to it. “Eliza did the right thing. She was patient and quiet.”

From her instant crossing of arms, I could tell she was in disagreement with me. “I just don’t understand how you can be so… nice!”

“Fidelina,” I said, “Remember, ‘If someone strikes you on the right cheek-”

“-turn to him the other also’. I know, I know, Mykel but it’s easier said than done! Goodness, I think only you and Eliza-AND God-are capable of being so forgiving!” she scowled.

I laughed out heartily. “You can too if you practice patience.” Immediately, I prayed. God, give her patience.

I glanced at my old analog watch on the left wrist. “Fidelina, we have to hurry. It’s our turn to help Sister Theresa to serve dinner tonight.” I quickened my pace to almost a jog.

“Alright, alright. Wait up, I’m coming!”

Wednesday, December 29, 2004

Chapter 2

Ethan:

I stuck my hands deep into the pockets grudgingly and kicked a crushed can on the pavement, venting my anger on it. I cursed Mrs. Padmore, the school principal, for giving me two weeks worth of detention. I cursed Mrs. Folly for reporting me to Mrs. Padmore. I cursed Terry for pissing me off.

I sucked in a sharp breath as a piece of old memory flashed before my eyes. I shut my eyes in reluctance. I hated it, every time I was forced to remember those blasted recollections. My fingers balled into fists.

She was screaming for him to stop the beatings but that bastard continued to abuse her physically. She threatened to report him to the police. His eyes lit with a fire of malice, gripping her at the throat, suffocating her. Yet, I… I was hiding behind the door of my room, watching. Just watching.

It was my fault.

“Whytte!”

I looked up from the cemented ground and craned my neck to the back. It was that girl. She hastened to me but I started my steps again, ignoring her. I did not defend her for any particular reason. She was not anybody to me.

She was breathing heavily and erupted into a small fit of cough when she caught up to me. I sniffed in annoyance. Everyone knew about her natural health problems. She was weaker than normal people from the medical aspect. She was sick most of the times. Asthmatic, low blood pressure and a weak heart.

“What do you want?” I snapped. I did not appreciate company. I disliked being around people in any case.

“Why… why… why did you… hit Terry Bradger?” she questioned with much difficulty. Her right hand clutched the left side of her chest while her free hand pulled a strand of hair behind her ear. Her long, wavy black hair swept her back.

“None of your concern,” I muttered.

She shook her head wearily. Her face was pale as usual. “No, it concerns me. Moreover, I’m concerned about you.”

I raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Concerned about me? Excuse me, but I believe you don’t know me enough to say that you are concerned about me.”

Her turquoise eyes shifted sideways. She bit her lower lip. “Why do you have to carry such a cold attitude towards others? Is it wrong to allow others to befriend you and care for you?”

I kept quiet. I felt no need to answer her.

“You shouldn’t have hit Bradger,” she said quietly. “Please don’t harm anyone again.”

I looked at her piercingly. “Did I hear you right? Because if I remember right, I was helping you,” I fumed.

She grimaced. “W-well, I… I do not appreciate such help.”

I lifted my eyes from her in disgust. “Go away, Coltrane.”

The girl shrunk away, intimidated. “I’m sorry, Whytte. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“Go!” I raised my voice.

Like every other person, she fled from me. I knew she was afraid of me. I was fine with it. I was used to it, used to keeping to myself.

I continued my way to my uncle’s workshop. I had work to do after school - a mother and a younger sister to support.