Cosmos II The Walking Dead

𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎

Sunday, May 6th, 1995
Our Lady, Queen of Angels Catholic Church

The small church was packed with parishioners, who all sat quietly listening to the priest's sermon. The warm morning light filtering through the glass windows shed soft shadows across their faces, and Mary could not help but think about how peaceful the scene looked.

But despite the tranquil atmosphere of the church, she could not ignore a nagging feeling of emptiness inside. She felt like an outsider, observing everyone else's lives but not a part of it.

"How long is my life that I should waste it in idleness?" the priest asked, looking down at the young girl before him.

The painful nudge from her abuelita forced her to look up. Her hands clenched tightly together, leaving behind crescent moon indents as her nails dug into her palms.

The priest looked out at the congregation, and smiled down at the young girl sitting in one of the front pews. "My child," he said, his voice soft. "Don't you know that life is precious and fleeting?"

"Yes, father." Mary said in a small voice, her eyes downcast. She tried so hard to meet his eyes but she just couldn't.

She wished she wasn't alone in that moment, that her siblings had come along with her. They were older than her, they would speak for her, but she came alone today. She felt guilty letting her abuela come to church alone so she always accompanied her despite having no faith.

"My dear," the priest said, his voice gentler. He reached out and brushed her hair back from her face with his fingers. Her skin was cool to the touch and delicate, like silk. "Do you not feel the warmth of God's presence in this place? Do you not feel the comfort of His loving embrace?"

Mary tried so hard not to flinch back from his touch. Her hands clenched so tightly that she wasn't aware she had drawn blood. "I do feel him, Father. He is with me with every breath I take," she answered softly.

Lying in a church, add that to her list of sins.

She did not feel him, she wasn't even sure if she had believed in him, but when she saw out of the corner of her eye the smile on her abuela's face she knew she had said the right thing.

He reached down, "Then trust in Him," the priest said, his grip gentle on her wrists as he looked into her eyes. "Trust that His wisdom is greater than ours, that there is a plan, and a reason for everything. Even for the things we do not understand. Even for the things that seem cruel and unjust."

Mary just nodded at his words, waiting for him to release her. Wishing desperately she had stayed home with her siblings, maybe Anthony would've watched TV with her, or she could have tried spending time with her sister.

Sylvia was almost 16 and spent all her free time out of the house. She knew to be home in time for her father's arrival, not wanting to leave her younger siblings alone with both parents.

Anthony was almost 15, he spent most of his time locked away in the room he had to share with his sisters. He didn't mind it; it just meant that the three of them were able to stick together.

Mary was the baby of the family at almost 10. She had once been a child, dancing around the house pretending she was a ballerina. Singing at the top of her lungs to her siblings' records. Queen and Abba were her favorites, having their discographies engraved into the grooves of her brain.