PART FOUR: THE BEGINNING OF THE END 2.

3 2 0
                                    

As we raced back to dad and the missionaries, I took a glance at my brother, George.

"Do you think she meant what she said?" I asked him, with fear and ambition.

"Yes, it didn't sound like a joke." George said, panting as we jogged.

"Has this ever happened to you before?" I asked my brother again.

He immediately stopped, and tried to catch some breath, as beads of sweat ran down his brisky face to his fine chin.

He looked at me, "No Prissy. But dad said it's comes with being a missionary."

"What?" I asked.

"Persecution. I just haven't witnessed it before." He replied.

It was almost unbelievable that since the five years George was accompanying dad, he hasn't experienced any persecution. Sometimes, you're just that lucky.

But Persecution was a vibrant part of being a Missionary. I love it because it makes 'The message' more real.

“Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me."

"Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”

"Whatchu thinking about?" George poke nosed into my thoughts.

"Nothing. Was wondering how many matyrs we've had so far in dad's troop?"

My question somehow jerked George off his current feeling. With shock in his face, he asked, "Why so interested? Do you want to be a matyr?"

In the camp.

We arrived, but couldn't find dad anywhere. Just the other missionaries. They met us panting and sweating, pushing them to ask questions.

Matthias, a father of two stepped forward.

"What's wrong? What has happened?" He asked us.

I opened my mouth to speak, but George held me back. Again.

He should really not think that he has all the permission in the world as my older brother to keep restricting me from saying anything.

But again, he knows better.

"Nothing. Where's our father?" He asked the missionaries.

"He's not in yet. He'll be back soon." A missionary replied.

Nothing? What did George mean by 'Nothing'? After the life threatening drama we had just witnessed?

I held my arm to feel the spot the old lady had gripped. It gave me a piercing pain and stood as an affirmation to what I had just witnessed.

"George!", I called out to him as he stepped outside. "What do you think you're doing? Why can't we just tell them?"

"And make them go wild with chaos?"

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

He sighed. "I think it's best we tell dad about this first. It's my first time to witness something like this too. Dad's in the right position to know what to do."

I wanted to keep on arguing as my heart kept burning from within. But George was right. He was. It was best to wait for dad than to cause a mental chaos inside.

But I believed two or more of the missionaries had also witnessed something similar in their past journies.

"WHERE ARE THE CHILDREN?!" We heard the voice coming from inside the tent. It was dad.

Quickly running in, we saw our panicking father.

"Matthias, you never told me. You never TOLD me!" He said packing the baggages.

"Here George!" He flung a weird hat to George's side and signaled that he put it on.

What was going on? Has dad heard or did he just experience what we wanted to tell him?

"PRISSY! Stop thinking! Here's a veil. Wear it now." He threw a black veil at my side.

The whole place was suddenly in chaos. Even George left me to assist the troops. I was left in utter confusion.

Rosetta, a daring daughter who also came along with her missionary father, ran to me.

"There's only two girls here yunno'? You and me. We should hurry and join the bus." She told me.

Rose was a close friend of mine as her father was a close friend of my dad. I was eighteen while Rose was nineteen. We had both shared similar dreams of joining the missionaries.

But she had long started accompanying them and doing mini tasks like preparing the meals for orphanages. Writing encrypted messages on gifts and arranging flowers which was her favorite thing to do. It's where she got her name from. 'Rose' like the flower.

I suddenly realized that my mouth was hung open the entire time. I felt the dryness in my tongue as air flew into my mouth.

I pinched myself back to reality and followed the troops outside with the black veil on my head, acting as a mask for my face so that it was only my dark googly downset eyes that were out.

I sought for Rose till I found her. There were seven buses and we headed to each of them.

Two had already started leaving.

Rose also covered her face with a strawberry pink veil. She offered me a seat next to her.

I had completely lost track of George and Dad.

"They said a group of soldiers are after us. The ones guarding the town's people. They think we're spies." Rose started speaking, like she understood my heart was burning with curiosity.

"My God! I'm sure it was the deed of the old lady." I whispered to myself, but Rose heard.

"What old lady?"
Her blonde curly hair kept flying to her face from under the veil.

I went ahead to tell her everything we encountered.

"It must be her, then." Rose affirmed to my short story. "Stuff like this don't just happen."

Suddenly, a large explosion was heard from afront! The soldiers had managed to gather their terrible mecenaries to the front of us.

Two missionaries were attacked as the rest fleed. Rose and I jumped off the bus and made a run for it.

Claudias, one of the young missionary, a training soldier of 23 years grabbed a fog can and popped it on bare ground.

The thick white fog enclouded the whole place. It annoyed the soldiers as they couldn't see where they were going probing them to stop shooting.


THE MISSIONARYWhere stories live. Discover now