GRAVE MISTAKE

5. THE TEMPLE

'On the twenty fifth of the twelfth month of the year was a yearly celebration of a divine being who was born by the Virgin Mary.

That very day was the day a noble lady fell for a man with golden eyes. He had watched her from afar, following her every move in the crowd.

People were singing, dancing and cheering but a certain someone couldn't take his eyes off the young lady with a black mole on her left cheek.

She was the fairest of all ladies and had a pure heart.

Many men thought her to be an angel because of how divine she looked and many women envied her…'

*

….but that couldn't be said for a young innocent girl who stood outside the temple on a cold morning with people trooping in to sing glorious melodies to the one they celebrated.

       "Are you thinking again Jecinta? Come now, let's go in."

Clara hooked her arm around Jecinta's covered shoulders.

It was the day they had waited for. The day of celebrations and merriments.

A strong wind blew and unknown to them, a white flake came to descend on Jecinta's red hood she used to cover herself from the harsh cold.

On entering the temple of holiness, the joyous singing of people filled the building and it made Jecinta's chest feel warm.

They went in and took one of the benches behind which was yet to be filled with people.

Sitting down, Jecinta sighed and drew the sign of the cross and so did Clara.

       "Are you still trying to compare yourself with Sheila?"

       "Huh?"

Jecinta had been lost in thoughts once more and Clara gave her an incredulous look.

       "Hope you haven't forgotten where you are, Jecinta, you seem to be carried away more often and it's not good." Clara advised her with a slight frown marred at her forehead.

       "I'm sorry Clara, I'll focus now."

Clara gave her a long stare before facing her front to concentrate on the little children at the altar who were singing holy hymns.

And while Clara's attention was on the altar, Jecinta's eyes darted about as she searched for someone.

       Would he come? She wondered.

One after the other, people kept coming in but there was no sign of the person she yearned to see.

       "Maybe he decided to spend this day with his family."

Clara whispered to Jecinta's right ear when she caught her looking around.

Jecinta swiftly shifted her attention to Clara with her eyes wide and her cheeks turned red.

        "I…I…oh Clara," she gave up when she couldn't escape because she was caught red-handed again.

        "Good day ladies, is this spot taken?"

The ladies lifted their heads to see who it was and Jecinta's look turned sour when she saw it was Mr Obed. The dashing noble man who had eyes on her friend.

        "Good day to you Sire. Please do take a seat."

Clara invited him and Jecinta gritted her teeth.

       "Excuse me milady," he excused himself and Jecinta made way for him with a sullen look. He went and sat beside Clara and they exchanged smiles.

Jecinta was sitting at the edge of the bench while Clara beside her, on her right.

'Had I known, I should've asked Clara to shift in so whoever comes will sit beside me,' she sulked.

        "You look lovely lady Clara."

"Thank you for your kind words Sir Obed," Clara gave him her sweetest smile after thanking him.

Jecinta tried to concentrate on what was happening at the altar but the duo frustrated her.

On the altar, the children had rounded up singing and it was time for a short drama to take place.

Jecinta's eyes turned teary at her fate but she tried not to cry.

It hurt her so much that no man noticed her.

She had tried to be strong and act like it didn't bother her but it did bother her.

The year was rounding up and next year she would turn eighteen which was a ripe age for marriage but she had no suitor.

'God, did I offend you? Do you want me to end up as a spinster all my life?' she questioned God as she watched the drama.

Outside, a strong man stood in the cold watching the temple with hard eyes.

The streets were less crowded because people were inside the temple having their yearly celebration.

Even though the cold was harsh, he didn't mind it. He wanted it to remind him of who he really was.

He didn't want to be redeemed by anyone nor did he want to be subdued.

His hands clenched to fist and his veins were visible.

He remembered the words of his prophetess, she had given him a strict warning that he wasn't willing to abide by.

He gritted his teeth in anger as his eyes glared at the big cross which was positioned at the top of the temple.

What infuriated him further was the fact that he wanted to see the young maiden again even if it meant glancing at her.

Did God think he wouldn't do as he pleased?

Did God think he would fall into his trap?

The voice of his prophetess filled his mind as her warnings repeated all over again.

It got registered in his brain to an extent he couldn't seem to erase it from his thoughts.

The more he wanted to execute his plans, the more her warning pressurized his mind.

'In order not to face the wrath of the almighty, not even a strand of hair should come off her head. Know this and know peace…'