I'm gonna be honest, I'm somewhat apprehensive about posting this. I've only put my fiction writing skills up to serious views once before, and it didn't go over so well. I've tried to improve my writing since then, but please be brutally honest with your responses. They're all I have to go by. Thanks.
“Our father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name…”
So said the Matriarch, continuing the mantra she had been unflinchingly repeating for the past three hours in the harsh fluorescent light of the sterilized waiting room. The rosary clutched between her palms was granted a temporary furlough as the Matriarch passed to the next bead, at which point it was clasped in her iron embrace. As she continued her prayer, the Matriarch allowed herself to raise her head. Scanning the room, eyes as cold and piercing as steel rested on her daughter, an uncontrollable wreck of emotions sobbing into the incompetent specimen she called a husband. Though sympathizing with her plight, she found it difficult to hold pity with her child. Instead, she could only feel disdain and disappointment.
“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in heaven….”
After all, she had failed. She had failed in the one, most important task that was ever bestowed upon her: the protection of the most precious gift of life.
”Give us this day our daily bread…”
But where she had failed, surely He will triumph. Even now, He was doubtlessly guiding the course of events for some greater good. Surely this was part of His plan. Surely it could not be denied that this was but one more trial being used to test the will of the faithful. The boy could be in no real harm: Just as He tested Abraham, surely He was testing her now.
”And forgive us our trespasses…”
And still the anger could not be subdued. A test of the faithful is understandable; nay, necessary given the state of the world, much less The Matriarch’s daughter. But that He could use so pure a soul, so pure a heart as the subject seemed a bridge too far. The Matriarch was well aware of her daughter and son-in-law’s fall from grace: hardly attending the Mass, disdain for the teachings of the Holy Father, blatantly living in sin years before marriage. But to punish the boy for their sins….
“As we forgive those who trespass against us….”
And suddenly the memories sprang forward, as if a floodgate had been opened. Memories of a tricycle riding five year old barreling down the sidewalk, from his house to hers.
“Grandma, Grandma, Mittens had kittens! Come see, come see!”
Images of a bright-eyed seven year old knocking on her door every afternoon.
“I know you aren’t my Mommy, Grandma, but I still made you a card! Happy Mommy’s Day!”
Raw memories of sounds of a crash and sights of unspeakable terror as a speeding drunkard looses control of a car and hits a nine year old catching fireflies.
“And lead us not into temptation…”
Fresh memories of a frantic drive to the hospital, being forced to wait with the two who had caused this tragedy as the boy’s life was being decided by His will. The fear, the rage, the pressure….
“But deliver…”
The doubt.
“Deliver….”
It proved too much, and the iron façade crumpled as the Matriarch let loose a sob. But this was no time for weakness! This was no time for doubt! Action was needed! The Matriarch started again.
”Our Father…”
The doubt and fear continued to grow, but she suppressed it. This was not time for vulnerability. Mistakes had to be corrected.
“Grandma, look what I made today! It’s a turkey hand for Thanksgiving dinner!”
“Who art in heaven….”
The Matriarch was louder now as her determination grew stronger. She had failed to protect her family. She had failed in the duty that she inherited from Roger after he passed on eight years ago, leaving her a lonely widow.
“Grandma, my school’s having a Christmas play and I’m gonna be a snowman! Are you gonna come and see?”
“Hallowed be thy name…”
Her chant grew louder still. The Matriarch began to draw attention. Her daughter had stopped her sobbing and was looking towards her now. The Matriarch cared not. Lives hung in the balance.
“Happy birthday Grandma! I hope you like the gift I got you; it cost three weeks of allowance!”
“THY KINGDOM COME…”
The Matriarch was in a full bellow now. Her daughter and son-in-law ran forward, asking if she was alright. She heard them not. All was focused on the task at hand.
“Grandma, I can ride a two-wheeler now! Come see!”
She failed to protect the boy, but she could still save him.
“Grandma, I love you!”
He could still save him!
“THY WILL BE DONE!”
All was silent. A pair of doors swung open. A man in medical scrubs stepped forward, a surgical mask covering all but his eyes, which looked worn and tired. The Matriarch’s daughter and son-in-law ran forward, asking for news. The Matriarch did not, for she already knew the outcome. With all the tiredness in the world, the man removed his mask, revealing a face filled with sorrow. He said but three words before the Matriarch’s daughter and son-in-law collapsed; the latter into a chair, the former onto the floor. But the Matriarch did not move there. She merely sat, looking straight ahead with cold eyes filled with tears and iron hands that now felt empty, as a string of beads fell onto the floor.
