Saint Mary

• Gage Gibbens, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2015

Cesarina trudged through the rain, tugging behind her the hand of young Matteo. He was constantly pulling, lagging behind her but she could hardly blame him. He was so young, and all he’d known was running. The never-ending running, constantly draining the, sapping them of the little energy he had.
And as much as she wished she wasn’t to blame for it, she was. It was her own greed, her pride that had led then toward this life of running. And it was because of her selfishness that she couldn’t have left him behind. If he had been left behind he had a chance of a stable, loving home, but all because of what she had done, and the fact that she couldn’t stand to have her little brother taken away from her, that he was now dragging tediously and exhaustedly at her heels.

“Cesarina, I’m tired” Matteo’s voice sounded from behind her. “I need to rest”
Right, of course. She sometimes forgot that her brother was not indestructible, on the days where she could only think of how much time they would need to cover, when she would run until her muscles screamed at her to stop.
“Of course mio caro, just let me find a place for us to stop.”

She looked around. She tended to keep them out of any main towns to avoid being noticed, and looked for empty or abandoned buildings for them to reside in when they had chances to stop and regain their strength. They were out in an area of the countryside tonight, where the rain had turned the dirt to mud, and they hadn’t passed any buildings, save for a few cottages presumably belonging to farmers who grew their crops in this region. Cesarina looked once more, and saw something sitting on a hill off in the distance. It looked like a church. Surely a church would be abandoned at this time of night, wouldn’t it?
“Come on,” she called “Just a little bit further.”

They reached the church- it was a large and old looking, built with big stones. Cesarina pushed the big wooden doors open, closing them behind them as Matteo walked in.
Before them, on the opposite wall of the church was a large stained glass window of Santa Maria. Santa Maria, The Mother of God. Cesarina felt unworthy to be standing in her holy presence, as she glanced down at them absently, a halo of light surrounding her head.
Shaking her head, she dismissed any thoughts of holiness or mothers of deities. It was time for them to rest. Sat down and leant against one of the cold stone walls. Matteo lay down and rested his head in her lap. Soon enough they had both drifted off, any thoughts of running or hiding pushed away pushed away for now, resting under the watchful eyes of Santa Maria.