My sister went over it and thought it was very good (minus the leaving out a few details) however I think it makes the story more of a mystery that leaves you wanting to read more.
So without further adieu, here is my short story which I'm calling The Broken Soul. Enjoy!
What had he done? Deangelo ran backwards in fear from the bloody corpse. The lifeless eyes haunted his every move. Deangelo fell as he tripped on his worn sandals. As he frantically tried to stand, he noticed blood was splattered on his hands and robe. He held in a panicked scream. The color was deep and rich. The beauty of the redness was crushed by terror, caused from the warmth of it.
Deangelo fled frantically. There was no way to explain this to his
family, or to anyone, for that matter. No
one would believe it was an accident.
Why should they? His breath was
light and his heart pounding. After
making it to the outskirts of the city, Deangelo collapsed from lack of
breath. He tried to control the pounding
of his heart which felt as though it was going to rip right through the very
flesh of his chest.
In his mind, Deangelo kept playing the image of the body,
lying sprawled out on the ground. Blood,
covering his cloths brought the scents of the kill to Deangelo’s mind. He felt weak and nauseous. He felt fatigued and unstable. His
feelings felt estranged from common sense.
Suddenly, without any control over his emotions, he began to weep
bitterly.
He tried to stop himself, but was unable to. How could he have taken a life? How would he
ever be able to return to the city? He
would be known as a murderer and thrown in prison. His family would despise him and his friends
spit in his face. It was an innocent
mistake which would haunt him for the rest of his life. He would never touch another sword again.
The face of the victim was engraved upon his mind. Not only did he take a life, but the life of
the very woman he loved. Was it truly
his fault? He should never have thrown
that sword. Yet, how was he to know she
would walk around the corner? Deangelo
let out and anguished scream and smothered his face into the dirt.
His tears caused mud, which incased his teeth and filled
his mouth. If he would flee the
country, they would accuse him of murder without being able to prove
otherwise. But if he stayed, he would be
unable to prove it wasn’t an accident and they would hang him for it. Nineteen was too young to die, especially the
demise of a traitor. He would never be
forgiven, never.
As Deangelo lay, weeping and pounding the ground a dark
shadow came over him. In horror he spun
his weakened body around. Over him stood
a man dressed in a dark brown covering, with beautiful wooden beads around his
waist. Deangelo was too weak to even attempt to
run. His face was stained with tears,
his eyes blood-shot, and his mouth dirty and cracked.
The man kneeled down next to Deangelo and embracing him,
held him close. Deangelo could do
nothing but cry bitterly. The man’s
gray hair covered his castle of knowledge.
Out of delirium, Deangelo told the man the entire story through
sobs. The man listened closely to every
word. Not once did he appear shocked or
angry. Instead, he comforted the boy
more and spoke words of kindness towards him.
Calling him by name, the padre said, “Deangelo, God loves
you and saw all that you speak of. He
knows your heart and He knows you. With
God, you can do everything, even go back to the City and tell the girl’s father
what truly happened.”
Deangelo protested, arguing through sobs that the girl’s
father would never believe him. That he
would instead have him hung by a tree.
The old man replied, “Through God, all things are
possible. As the Bible teaches us in
Colossians three thirteen, ‘Bear with each other and forgive whatever
grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.’”
The padre asked if Deangelo knew God and was
Christian. Deangelo shook his head, his
body ached and he felt feeble. The man
asked him if he would like to make a confession, because no matter how terrible
a sin, if truly sorry, it can be forgiven by God. He told Deangelo the story of the lost sheep
and said Deangelo was like that sheep. When
he sinned by killing the girl, like the sheep he fled. Yet the shepherded still went out and looked
for him. And when he found the sheep, he
rejoiced and brought it back home.
“Deangelo, like the sheep, you are lost. But God wants you back. Go to your friend’s father and tell him what
you’ve done. He will be grieved, of
course, but he will forgive you your sins.”
Smiling, the old man stood up and began walking
away. Deangelo wiped away the tears from
his exhausted face. He looked up to
speak, but the man was gone. Deangelo
stumbled to his feet. The face of the body was clear in his mind. The memory of her as she faded to the floor
and then took her last breath crushed his very soul. Yet deep down in the very core of his
conscious, he knew the old man was right.
No matter what was to come, he should go back and tell
the girl’s father. He felt strange, as
though he wasn’t afraid to be hung if it were to come to that. In God’s eyes, he was forgiven as the old
padre had listened to his confession. He
felt confident that no matter what, God loved him and knew the true situation. With a heavy soul and crushed heart, Deangelo
began the long walk back to the city.
The End
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