Training

Training

Malevolent Chronicles

Sonya Lee

Published by Sonya Lee

Published by Sonya Lee at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 Sonya Lee

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Literary Drama

Extraordinary Reflections

Mystery/Thrillers

Yellow Eyes (Book I of the Guardian Saga)

Menacing Eyes (Book II of the Guardian Saga)

Dead Eyes (Book III of the Guardian Saga)

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The Guardian Saga Trilogy

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In the Beginning

Training

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In the Beginning

Chapter 1

Beginnings

St. Thomas the Apostle Church was quiet this time of day. No sounds emanated from any part of the church. Most of the parishioners, who attended St. Thomas, were at work. It wasn't very often that a parishioner would come in during the week for confession. Father MacArthur might have a lost soul or two come in but not too often.

Knowing the workings of his neighborhood, he sat undisturbed in the confessional, thinking on the many blessings that the Lord had bestowed upon his parishioners this year. A smile of joy crosses his face as he reminisces on little Marvin Sampson running into the church excitedly last week. Marvin was coming to show him his latest report card. He had finally gotten a B in reading, a subject he had struggled with all school year long. The joy that encompassed Marvin’s face was proof enough that the programs the church had set in place were helping the community.

Father MacArthur was dragged away from his musings by footsteps. The footsteps were almost imperceptible, they were so light but sound carries in old churches like this one, so he was able to hear them. Suddenly, it sounded like the person had changed his or her mind. The footsteps appeared to be growing fainter and moving in the opposite direction.

He focused his mind once again on the many blessings that his parishioners had received and were still receiving this year when the footsteps grew louder once again. Whoever was coming to see him seemed to have resolved their uncertainty. Their steps were more purposeful and sure as they neared the confessional. He decided to let go of his musings for now and sat patiently waiting on the individual to enter the confessional.

The confessional door swung open and a young lady of no more than fifteen, by Father MacArthur’s estimates, entered the confession booth. She had the freshest face of youth he had seen in some time. The world hadn't beaten her down and cast her hopes aside just yet, but he sensed the turmoil within her. He had never seen her before, so he knew she wasn’t one of his many parishioners.

Good afternoon my child, he said in a welcoming voice, settling more comfortably in his seat.

Father, forgive me for I have sinned. Oh, I’m sorry, please forgive my rudeness. Good afternoon father. This is my first time at confession and I don’t know where to begin. I’ve often heard people on television beginning their confessions in this manner, so I assumed it was okay to begin that way. I'm not catholic by religion, but I am seeking solace in this holy place of worship, she said in a near whisper almost tripping over her words.

It’s alright my child. What seems to be troubling you? asked Father MacArthur. He was curious as to what this young lady might need to confess to at such a young age.

Father, I'm not as young as you might think and I’m unsure of where to begin. There is so much that I have to repent for and I’m not sure if everything that I have done is a sin, she said somewhat unsure of herself.

Father MacArthur jumped at the realization that she knew what he was thinking. He shook off the eerie feeling she had suddenly given him and addressed the young lady once again. The beginning is always a good place to start. It will make it easier for you to tell me what you’ve done and we can determine if it is a sin or not, alright my dear, he said from his side of the confessional. He adjusted his sitting position once again to give himself time to settle down and pay attention to the young lady’s words. He was familiar with the issues of teenagers so he prepared himself to listen to the normal woes that teenagers spilled during confession. I stole some money from my mom, I snuck out of the house to hang out with a boy my parents don’t approve of, I stole some liquor from my parents’ liquor cabinet or I stole a pair of pants from Marshall Fields. He was used to these types of confessions. So he sat patiently waiting on the young lady to begin. What followed was a confession so bizarre and incomprehensible that it would cause Father MacArthur to question his own sanity for beginning to believe the tale.

Agnes began her tale in a soft yet forceful voice. Okay, I’ll start at the beginning. My name is Agnes and I am twenty-four years old. My life turned out very different from what I had originally planned. My dad used to say that In life, you will always have choices to make. Make sure you can live with them." Well, I'm currently paying penance for the choices that I made and I am learning to live with them. You must understand father, I was born with talents that turned into curses. Talents that can be wonderful, and burdensome all at the same time. Many of the choices I would make in life weren't always conscious ones.

My mother used to tell me to "be careful what thoughts flow through your head, they might end up in your subconscious. Your subconscious is the last place you want certain thoughts to end up." It turned out that my subconscious mind is a very dangerous thing. I learned this at a very early age.

*****

I was eleven years old the first time I noticed I was different. My mother would always admonish me when I thought bad thoughts, which wasn't very often.

I had a happy life during that time. I grew up on a farm and my dad was a farmer by trade. We grew corn and all other manner of vegetables. I remember the corn most of all because the stalks would grow so high that they’d block my view when Rex and I would go on our long walks together. At other times when I'd ride my horse Dixie, he’d trail behind me and I'd lose him because the stalks had gotten so high. Rex was my dog, my parents adopted him for me when he was a pup.

I had a very solitary childhood living on a farm. I didn’t attend public schools during that time in my life, my parents had chosen to home school me. I didn't have any friends but I had my parents, my dog Rex, my horse Dixie and my imaginary friend Terrie.

My normal summer days were spent doing a multitude of things. My day generally began with a Karate lesson with my father. I was such a tiny thing and my dad said it was a good thing to be able to defend yourself. He had taken Karate lessons all his life and since he didn’t have a son to pass the tradition down to, he chose to pass it down through me. We would meet in one of the rooms in the basement, across from his office.

Our basement was a curious thing to me. I was never allowed in my father’s office, so I had no idea what it looked like during that time. The room where I practiced my Karate lessons was another story all together. The floors of our practice room were padded and there were all manner of weapons hanging from the walls. I learned to use the sword, poles, and to shoot an arrow among other weapons in the very confines of our basement.

I would follow my Karate lessons with a lesson on meditation with my mother. She said the mind and body often worked as one and they needed to be in tune with one another to work more effectively together. My mother taught me to clear my mind of any thoughts and become a blank slate. She said sometimes going blank would ease my mind and calm my spirit. After I meditated with my mother I would take a walk with Rex.

On this particular day, after I had completed my lessons, Rex and I were taking our normal stroll through the fields. I meandered along at a cozy pace as Rex chased butterflies every so often through the field.

The sun was shining brightly overhead. The weather was a nice breezy eighty-three degrees. My father was letting the field in front of our house rest as he liked to say. He would replant that particular field in the fall. The grass had grown up to my knees and my father planned