Malachi

"The devil is always sitting in my corner.”

Sweat drips down Malachi's face in his hour of darkness.

Why would God allow this to happen?

Why are these lies haunting his life, Malachi wonders.

The most beautiful woman in the world who gave him life is a victim of Hell.

And his track coach, the one man who he looks up to is the cause of it all.

Pray, my sweet Malachi, an angel says.

But Malachi doesn’t want to pray. Why should he? He feels like a greasy pot of flesh and sin. How could his mother look at him? How dare he speak to Coach?

As the raindrops collapse slowly unto his skin, Malachi runs to his best friend Chelsea's house. On the porch, they sit in silence as the trees sway with the breath of the wind. Both sitting still. Lost in the warm April night.

“Why am I here?” Malachi asks.
“Why are any of us here?”
“No. You are here because your parents were madly in love, married and welcomed you into a life of happiness.”
“Ok and.”
“Ok and mine weren’t. And this nasty secret was kept from me all my life.”
“Malachi.”
“No, Chelsea, please. Don’t sugar coat this for me. The thing is, I’ve always wondered what my roots were. And now I know. My roots are nothing but strings of murderous lies. And the fact that my mother kept me rips me apart inside.”
“She kept you because you are her blessing.”
“No, I am a living curse.”
“How are you a curse? I am so sure that you are the best thing that ever happened to your mother.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“You don’t want to believe that.”
“Chelsea, I am one of Satan‘s seeds. I don’t even know how my mother can even look at me.”
“Because you are her angel.”
“Yeah, her precious angel of death. I am her daily reminder of what Hell is. I am even afraid of myself.”

Placing her hand over his chest, Chelsea’s touch seemed to simmer down his racing heartbeats. Chelsea pulls her broken friend close to her, stretching her arms around him.

“No, my friend, you are your mother’s precious messenger of her deliverance. Let it be.”

To be continued...