H&S: Story Of Dorothy Oneshots

Trust and Believe

          "Life is unpredictable." The Priest continued as they rounded a corner into another hall. Paintings of scenes from the Bible decorated the walls. A majestic white grandfather clock chimed through the peaceful silence. "Much like the weather. There are sunny days, full of peace and laughter. Then you have your days of thunder and rain. It's one big journey, only ending when you pass on to the other side."

        Just as he said this, Gwyn caught sight of framed artwork of newly-arrived angels standing before the golden gates of Heaven. The sky was such a beautiful blue, the floor was made of clouds. Their halos glowed, as if made of sunshine. Their gowns were light and whiter than snow. They were happy, overjoyed even. Heaven must've been a wondrous place. He wasn't sure if he believed in it, though...

         "I wish I had a different journey." Gwyn found himself saying sullenly. The Priest perked up at this, listening intently, glad to hear him speaking his mind. Perhaps he was opening up. "Childhood is where everyone's journey begins, right? Well, mine's been ruined. I only ever saw mummy in paintings my whole life, and I love father, but he's a bad man. Now I don't have any parents. I want to start over. I want a new beginning."

         The Priest hummed thoughtfully at this, the words gathering in his head again. His fingers drummed on the leather cover of his Bible. "Some believe in recreation. That people are reborn as infants after they've died, then begin another life. It isn't taught in this school, I must say, but if it's true then having a new beginning is indeed possible."

        "Do you believe that's true?" Gwyn asked curiously. He was feeling more and more at ease. The tightness in his throat and the tenseness in his shoulders relaxed.

         "No." The Priest responded evenly. "If that were true," he went on pointedly, "there'd be no purpose for a Heaven or Hell, for all the souls would be thrust into new bodies. Given infinite chances at life." His brow furrowed at the thought, but Gwyn thought it sounded nice. He could be a prince in his next life! Or perhaps, a princess. Or a slave? A simple farmer? There was no telling what gender, class, or race he'd be born into. He wouldn't even remember his previous life!

          "Oh, of course." Gwyn chuckled sheepishly. It was obvious this religion believed in afterlives, he should've known the answer. He sighed deeply. "So I can't have another beginning ever again, right?"

         "Dear boy," the Priest replied sympathetically, "you do not need a perfect childhood to be happy. You work with what you have... Good morning, Margaret." He nodded his head at an overweight woman toddling past, dressed with an apron over her dress and a hairnet. She returned the greeting blithely. "Some are far more unfortunate than you, getting by with barely any food or water, or without shelter to shield them from the cold."
 
         Gwyn felt guilt gnaw at his heart. How dare he complain when others were worse off? But then he shrugged this feeling away, reminding himself he had a right to. "I don't care!" He seethed, huffing and crossing his arms. "My life isn't very good, either. Look at me! I'm ugly now, kids won't want to play with me when they see my face. My mother's dead, my father's been thrown in prison..." He slumped as the fire died out of his eyes. "I'm just a lonely, stupid orphan you only took in prob'ly just to make yourself look good."

          The Priest silently watched him wince in regret at his words, uneffected by the accusation. Calm and collected, despite the reaction an uneasy Gwyn expected from him. They stepped carefully up a winding stairwell that had just been mopped. Midway to the top, he spoke again. "We took you in not to make ourselves look good, but because it was a Godly thing to do. We have more than enough room, and another addition to our holy family. A new student to save."
      
      "I'm...I'm sorry." Gwyn whispered. He sidled back up to the man, having distanced himself after his outburst. Theophilius had hurt him every time he defied him, or retaliated in any way. He wasn't used to such a... patient, serene person. It made him feel terrible for snapping at him.