Maria was very cold to the priest as he bid her farewell, and I noticed his slumped shoulders as he walked away from her. Perhaps he had come to this town to try and make amends, to try and set things straight. His guilt must've weighed on his conscience heavily, and it must have haunted his dreams every night.
He came upon the child later, with anxiety still gripping his heart it would seem, and found the girl sitting on a root, kicking her tiny heels against the bark. Her eyes were squeezed shut, as if she had seen enough of the world, and wished to see nothing else. He approached her cautiously as would someone who was approaching a wild mustang, afraid that it would stampede. He was trying so hard to earn her trust I noticed. He very carefully asked her what was the matter. She replied that HE was the matter, in a fit of anger. Apparently, the other children in the town had been teasing and laughing at her, and saying that she was the only girl that didn't have a father who worked, and that he was no good for women. The poor little thing was red in a fit of anger, and demanded to know what they meant by those rude comments. Her maturity was appalling. It was as if she was ten years older than she appeared. Although she was angry, her speech was eloquent and refined and nearly ancient. For having grown up with an unloving mother like her own, she was indeed a child of frightening maturity. I suppose that is what our society is making them to be.
He seemed to be discouraged by her words, and sighed. I looked into the dark eyes of the little girl, and was amazed at her. She was so innocent, and so sweet, yet she was unprotected in the world. She was all alone, and although she had both of her parents, neither of them could be there for her, and she would grow up alone, and I feared that the dark eyes that peered questioningly into the teary eyes of the priest would grow ever darker as time progressed.
The priest kissed her cheek, and told her how much he loved her. The way he spoke to her made me notice that he himself realized that she had little to no concept of what real love is. No one had ever showed her love, and therefore, it was not something that could be comprehended by her little mind, no matter how mature. She stared back at him with those dark eyes, blank and ever so empty. She could not wrap her head around the concept of love, I knew. And I turned from the scene with tears in my eyes. A father caressing his child for the last time and desperately trying to show her love and caring for once.
He walked away with his shoulders hunched, as if he no longer had purpose on this earth. He mounted his mule, and begrudgingly headed south.
wow. This is really good! so emotionally infested. I like how you wrote it as if you were there watching, and I like how you gave a description of their personalities. This gave a view of the Priest that no one gets to see, since it's forbidden. Also how you built up to the fact that the child does not understand love or affection, so sad but effective. Overall GOOD JOOB!! tehee :)
ReplyDeleteGreat post! So many little details in this post were well-written and descriptive. The way that you wrote was as if you were a spectator, but also it was as if you knew what was going on inside the character's heads and could read their thoughts. Overall, it was very intriguing and entertaining to read. :)
ReplyDeleteIt is sad to see that at only ten years of age a person can already be fed up with the world. Quite sad indeed... I'd like to say that there's hope in that little girl's situation, but, in reality, there really isn't a whole lot. Her parents aren't together, a very tough thing by itself. On top of that, her father is a ridiculed and hated man who is never home, and her mother is a hateful, cruel, abusive woman who doesn't even love her. The situation for this precious young soul is dismal. Oh, and by the way, I agree with you... I believe that those dark eyes will only get darker with time. It is possible for wounds to heal, but they always leave scars... and when the wounds are huge, gaping, and open, they leave disrupting, striking scars which stay for a lifetime. Sigh. Suspiro (or icing). That poor little girl...
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