Pray For Me

† II †

Daniel woke up to loud knocking on his front door. He groaned and buried his head in his pillow.

He could not fall asleep for hours, plagued by worry and deep down, by fear. Though in the morning with the sun shining and birds singing, he seemed to forget the things that haunted him at night.

He pushed the blankets off himself and rubbed his eyes. Slowly he stood up and stretched his stiff muscles. Whoever was at the door knocked again.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," he called and tried to pull his robes on while walking towards the door. The knocking stopped, but Daniel wondered who'd wake him up at such ungodly hour.

He finally fixed his clothes to look presentable then he pulled the door open.

"Morning, Father Daniel," the boy at the door smiled brightly, too brightly for the early hour.

"Good morning, Tommy," Daniel greeted the postman's son, all while trying to conceal a yawn. He knew the young boy from the church but more so as he brought him the few letters he received in his father's stead.

The village was small, but the church was half a mile away. So while his father brought the post to the villagers, Tommy ran up to Daniel's cottage. Usually, he was there right after the sun came up. That was quite early, Daniel thought.

"I have a letter for you. From Mrs Edwards," Tommy snickered and handed Daniel a neat envelope with the Edwards' seal. "I heard it's about something in the village just over the river. Something's happened there, but father wouldn't tell me what," the boy rambled.

He broke the seal and pulled the letter from the envelope. He skimmed through it, trying to figure out what it was Mrs Edwards wanted. She was inviting him to lunch, he read, to discuss the most urgent matters. She was the wife of the richest man in their village, who liked to think himself a mayor of some sort.

It was not rare that they invited him to their house to discuss the matters in the village. They both knew people prefered Daniel over them, and to some point, they did respect that.

"...anyways, I reckon it's bandits or something of that sort. But they wouldn't come here. We're too poor for them," Tommy was still talking by the time Daniel read the letter.

"It's nothing to worry about, I'm sure. Now run home, Tommy. You wouldn't want your father to wonder where you are," Daniel smiled, and the boy took off running back down the road.

Daniel envied the boy, how carefree and joyful he seemed, even running back home through the snow in his beat-up shoes. He didn't have the worries that seemed to plague Daniel more and more every day.

The letter did nothing to soothe his nerves. It was urgent, almost panicked. The lady's handwriting wasn't as neat and elegant as it always has been. The letter wasn't like the usual flirtatious invites she would send when she wanted to discuss whatever it was she wanted. This time she didn't choose her words as carefully and precisely.

Daniel almost prefered those, over the one he received that morning, regardless of how uncomfortable they made him.

The letter said he should be there for lunch at noon, meaning he had some hours to spare. He grabbed a coat and put on his worn shoes. He walked the short path, covered in snow, towards the church.

He got used to saying his morning prayers first thing after he woke up. He'd do it in his cottage, considering it was warmer than the church, but in winter both were unpleasantly cold.

He walked inside and shut the heavy door. It was better inside for it wasn't windy. He made a sign of the cross with his eyes raised to the crucifix above the altar. It was a simple wooden one, like everything else in the church.