Post by Deleted on Jul 30, 2007 19:42:55 GMT -8
((OoC: I return. Nothing spectacular.))
Three in the morning… a public beach was deserted all but for one single figure who sat idly staring at the full moon that shown brightly in the sky. It gave an eerie glow to the city, the ocean and its waves that lapped calmly against the shore, even the boy’s white coat. Silently he sat as a small breeze came off the ocean bring the smell of salt to his nostrils. In addition to the smell it brought a cooling effect to what was otherwise a warm night. With his legs arched before, his arms resting on his knees, a small sigh escaped the young man reflected on everything that had brought to this point…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Four months previous
Saint pushed his way through the door of the small apartment that he had moved into since the selling of the house to pay for his mother’s health care with a mass of groceries in his arms. It was late, probably to late to call anyone who had left a message but still Saint pressed the play button as he moved to put the groceries away, just in case. The first messaged played…
“This is Dr. Jeff Darien…”
His heart dropped… the groceries spilled on to the floor, eggs cracked and splatter, milk poured out… and Zachariah ran.
“… I’m so sorry.”
At a frantic pace, the young man ran through the streets of Long Beach without a second thought. Cutting across streets, paying no attention to anything around him, Saint raced as though there was something he could do if he hurried. Deep down, however, he knew he couldn’t. Still he ran until his muscles ached from overexertion and his lungs burned for air, then he ran some more. Soon the hospital was in sight and he burst through the doors and past the front desk knowing full well which room he was going to. He came around the corner without losing a step, a loud squeak erupting as he did so and soon he rushed through the open door of the room only to find a pair of nurses readying it for another patient. With sweat and tears coming down his face, Saint shouted at the two of them.
“What are you doing?! Where’s my mom?!!”
The two nurses looked like deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming train and didn’t know what to do. Luckily a doctor came up behind the young man and said calmly.
“She passed earlier today, I tried to reach you but I couldn’t.”
Saint spun around to face them man with tears that were pouring down now. Dr. Darien placed his man on the young man’s shoulder and escorted him out of the room. On the way to the morgue the doctor explained what had happened. Saint got to see his mother one last time before he left the hospital in a cab that the doctor had asked the front desk to call for and was gone. He asked the cabbie to let him off at a local funeral home where he made the necessary arrangements and paid with some left over money from the house selling. He hopped back in the cab and went to LAX where he grabbed the first available seat on the next international flight and after another six hours past Saint had left the country without a word to anyone…
<-{Over the next months Saint spent his time roaming around the world. In the beginning he spent most of his time in Europe before spending time in the Middle East and Japan. All the while he was like a ghost, detached from those around him. He rarely slept, never soundly, and was even less likely to eat anything, if he did it was a small piece, nothing of substance. Soon this now sickly boy ended up in a city he knew well, and a specific he knew well…}->
One Month Ago
“Father, Father! We found this young man passed out outside.”
“Oh my! Quickly bring him inside.”
The group of elderly woman carried the boy inside and laid him down on a cot in the back while the priest blessed them for their assistance. After that the priest went back to see what was wrong with the young man, noticing the frailty caused by malnutrition, lack of sleep, and dehydration the priest poured a small amount of water down the boy’s throat when a startling revelation struck. He knew this boy very well. Slowly Saint came to and glanced up at the blurry figure sitting beside him.
“I see you are doing better now but you should have taken better care of yourself my son.”
“Who… who are you?”
“You do not recognize my voice, Zachariah. I do suppose it has been sometime since I have seen you.”
“Padre Cortez?”
“Si.”
Over the next two weeks the priest nurtured Saint back to health and once he was better Saint began to tell him what had transpired in the past two years or so. When he had arrived the six three man had weighed a mere hundred and five pounds, now he had made it to a healthier hundred thirty, still he looked anemic. The two walked through the church as they spoke.
“I can’t help but wonder what I did do deserve this? Why me?”
“I remember when you and your mother first started coming by my church. She sought forgiveness for all the things that happened to you, yet you had forgotten them. I told her what a felt… that it was a blessing you had forgotten, it would be a clean slate for the both of you. And it would allow you to accept God into your heart.”
Saint stared at the floor, his eyes boring holes into the old wood boards. Father Cortez sighed and continued.
“Do you know why you got the nickname ‘Saint’?”
“Not really… I always figured it was because I was at the church so much.”
“I asked one of your friends once and he told it was because of how you treated everyone. The same courtesy and kindness no matter who they were or what they did… it reminded them of a saint. I noticed then that you had an unshakeable faith… in the goodness of people. I believed that if you spent a week observing even the most vile serial killer that you could find some good in him, some reason to have faith in him.”
“That’s foolish…”
“And that is why your mother has passed.”
Zachariah simply stared at Father Cortez as he turned and strode toward the church alter.
“He is testing your faith, not only in Him but in the goodness in human beings. You must finally fully remember the haunting memories of your past and face them. In essence face your own personal demons. If you keep your faith in God and the good will of people… then you will truly be a Saint.”
“Why me? I never wanted any of this.”
“No one ever does. But you have always been a good person at heart. I have faith that no matter what you choose to do it will be the right one.”
“How would I even start?”
“Go home, my son.”
Father Cortez strode off to attended to other things while Saint was left to mull things over. His past had always haunted him, facing it would change that but he was scared. Even if he didn’t go along with God’s test going home didn’t seem so bad… right? Another week passed and Saint decided to go home, whatever came of his test would be a secondary concern first he had to get his life at least back on the right track. He bade his goodbyes and caught the next plane from Rio to Los Angeles…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Half an hour after landing Zachariah was at the beach. Again he sighed while wiping away a tear from his eye that had formed as he remembered his mother’s passing. Her own son had yet to even see her grave. He would have to make sure to do that after he found himself some work to maintain the small apartment, which probably reeked by now. But for now… he was content to reflect and relax on the moonlight soaked beach. Gradually he began to hum...
Three in the morning… a public beach was deserted all but for one single figure who sat idly staring at the full moon that shown brightly in the sky. It gave an eerie glow to the city, the ocean and its waves that lapped calmly against the shore, even the boy’s white coat. Silently he sat as a small breeze came off the ocean bring the smell of salt to his nostrils. In addition to the smell it brought a cooling effect to what was otherwise a warm night. With his legs arched before, his arms resting on his knees, a small sigh escaped the young man reflected on everything that had brought to this point…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Four months previous
Saint pushed his way through the door of the small apartment that he had moved into since the selling of the house to pay for his mother’s health care with a mass of groceries in his arms. It was late, probably to late to call anyone who had left a message but still Saint pressed the play button as he moved to put the groceries away, just in case. The first messaged played…
“This is Dr. Jeff Darien…”
His heart dropped… the groceries spilled on to the floor, eggs cracked and splatter, milk poured out… and Zachariah ran.
“… I’m so sorry.”
At a frantic pace, the young man ran through the streets of Long Beach without a second thought. Cutting across streets, paying no attention to anything around him, Saint raced as though there was something he could do if he hurried. Deep down, however, he knew he couldn’t. Still he ran until his muscles ached from overexertion and his lungs burned for air, then he ran some more. Soon the hospital was in sight and he burst through the doors and past the front desk knowing full well which room he was going to. He came around the corner without losing a step, a loud squeak erupting as he did so and soon he rushed through the open door of the room only to find a pair of nurses readying it for another patient. With sweat and tears coming down his face, Saint shouted at the two of them.
“What are you doing?! Where’s my mom?!!”
The two nurses looked like deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming train and didn’t know what to do. Luckily a doctor came up behind the young man and said calmly.
“She passed earlier today, I tried to reach you but I couldn’t.”
Saint spun around to face them man with tears that were pouring down now. Dr. Darien placed his man on the young man’s shoulder and escorted him out of the room. On the way to the morgue the doctor explained what had happened. Saint got to see his mother one last time before he left the hospital in a cab that the doctor had asked the front desk to call for and was gone. He asked the cabbie to let him off at a local funeral home where he made the necessary arrangements and paid with some left over money from the house selling. He hopped back in the cab and went to LAX where he grabbed the first available seat on the next international flight and after another six hours past Saint had left the country without a word to anyone…
<-{Over the next months Saint spent his time roaming around the world. In the beginning he spent most of his time in Europe before spending time in the Middle East and Japan. All the while he was like a ghost, detached from those around him. He rarely slept, never soundly, and was even less likely to eat anything, if he did it was a small piece, nothing of substance. Soon this now sickly boy ended up in a city he knew well, and a specific he knew well…}->
One Month Ago
“Father, Father! We found this young man passed out outside.”
“Oh my! Quickly bring him inside.”
The group of elderly woman carried the boy inside and laid him down on a cot in the back while the priest blessed them for their assistance. After that the priest went back to see what was wrong with the young man, noticing the frailty caused by malnutrition, lack of sleep, and dehydration the priest poured a small amount of water down the boy’s throat when a startling revelation struck. He knew this boy very well. Slowly Saint came to and glanced up at the blurry figure sitting beside him.
“I see you are doing better now but you should have taken better care of yourself my son.”
“Who… who are you?”
“You do not recognize my voice, Zachariah. I do suppose it has been sometime since I have seen you.”
“Padre Cortez?”
“Si.”
Over the next two weeks the priest nurtured Saint back to health and once he was better Saint began to tell him what had transpired in the past two years or so. When he had arrived the six three man had weighed a mere hundred and five pounds, now he had made it to a healthier hundred thirty, still he looked anemic. The two walked through the church as they spoke.
“I can’t help but wonder what I did do deserve this? Why me?”
“I remember when you and your mother first started coming by my church. She sought forgiveness for all the things that happened to you, yet you had forgotten them. I told her what a felt… that it was a blessing you had forgotten, it would be a clean slate for the both of you. And it would allow you to accept God into your heart.”
Saint stared at the floor, his eyes boring holes into the old wood boards. Father Cortez sighed and continued.
“Do you know why you got the nickname ‘Saint’?”
“Not really… I always figured it was because I was at the church so much.”
“I asked one of your friends once and he told it was because of how you treated everyone. The same courtesy and kindness no matter who they were or what they did… it reminded them of a saint. I noticed then that you had an unshakeable faith… in the goodness of people. I believed that if you spent a week observing even the most vile serial killer that you could find some good in him, some reason to have faith in him.”
“That’s foolish…”
“And that is why your mother has passed.”
Zachariah simply stared at Father Cortez as he turned and strode toward the church alter.
“He is testing your faith, not only in Him but in the goodness in human beings. You must finally fully remember the haunting memories of your past and face them. In essence face your own personal demons. If you keep your faith in God and the good will of people… then you will truly be a Saint.”
“Why me? I never wanted any of this.”
“No one ever does. But you have always been a good person at heart. I have faith that no matter what you choose to do it will be the right one.”
“How would I even start?”
“Go home, my son.”
Father Cortez strode off to attended to other things while Saint was left to mull things over. His past had always haunted him, facing it would change that but he was scared. Even if he didn’t go along with God’s test going home didn’t seem so bad… right? Another week passed and Saint decided to go home, whatever came of his test would be a secondary concern first he had to get his life at least back on the right track. He bade his goodbyes and caught the next plane from Rio to Los Angeles…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Half an hour after landing Zachariah was at the beach. Again he sighed while wiping away a tear from his eye that had formed as he remembered his mother’s passing. Her own son had yet to even see her grave. He would have to make sure to do that after he found himself some work to maintain the small apartment, which probably reeked by now. But for now… he was content to reflect and relax on the moonlight soaked beach. Gradually he began to hum...