Paper Plane

This story is dedicated to people who have been hit by the tide of hardships and did not lose faith in their God, to people who pray and waiting for their answer and to people like me, who tasted the

Sweet sweet winds blew upon the little village, brushing children's cheeks with flower petals. The scent of flowers filled the air. Children's kites soared above, challenging the clouds to a race, and tinging the blue sky with reds, oranges, purples, pinks and yellows.

There on his rooftop stood little, 8 year old, Matthew. His hazel eyes were fixed upon the blue horizons above. Up there was his lord's throne. His friend and guardian's throne. God's throne, above the clouds, beyond the blue horizon. His little hands carried a paper plane. A prayer was written on it, in a handwriting of a child who could barely write. He smiled at his paper plane and then up to the sky where his friend's throne was. "Don't be late! Fly fast" he giggled as he let his paper plane ride the wind, racing the other children's kites. He lost count of how many paper planes he had sent to God.  Prayers, thoughts, wishes. Paper planes flew up to God, holding these, ever since he learned how to write and that he had a heavenly guardian. He watched as his paper plane disappeared into the "cotton candy" of the sky. A grin drew upon his lips. His message was sent.

Our little boy never bothered to keep himself hidden whenever he sent his heavenly guardian paper planes. One day his father spotted him on the rooftop while sending a paper plane. His father approached him with a smile.

-"Hey, Matt. What are you doing?"

-"Sending a message" said Matthew with a grin

-"Oh? to whom?" asked the father

Matthew pointed up to the sky. Seeing his father didn't understand, he shrugged and explained. "To God, papa. You know, his throne is up there. I send him prayers everyday everyday" he said, innocent pride glimmering in his hazel eyes. The father frowned slightly.

-"And does God respond?" he asked- "Hmm..not exactly. But i know he reads them. Maybe he's gathering them in a pile and will answer them all at once" he said, shrugging. His father sighed and shook his head.

-"This is not the right way to pray, son. Proper prayers have certain rituals and rules. The way you're doing it disrespects God's teachings. Prayers must be done properly and in their proper place to be accepted" said the father gravely.The little boy tilted his head and blinked in slight incomprehension.
Later that night he gave it a deep thought. He looked through the window and watched the dazzling stars staring back at him. He believed they were lanterns. Bright, shimmering lanterns. A gift from his heavenly friend. "Wow!! All these lanterns for me? Thank you, My God" he thought cheerfully. "well, If learning how to pray the right way will make you happier I'll do. But promise the cartload of marshmallow, okay?" he said brightly before going to sleep.

The next day his father called for him to come to the drawing room. The little boy dashed downstairs to greet his father. He stopped midway through his "Good morning, papa" at the sight of a stranger next to his father. He was a tall man with a horsey face. His acid green, analytic eyes scanned the little boy, and his thin lips curled in a curt smile.

-"Matthew, this is Mr Woods, your new religion teacher", declared the father. "He came to..."

-"If you please, Mr Mayors. I'd like to start my lesson. Mr Matthew and i will make our introductions each in his own way" said the teacher, smiling up to the father.

Matthew shrugged and sat at the table as his father nodded and took leave. The teacher fiddled with his "Holy Book", bookmarking pages here and there as he sat himself at the table. The silence made Matthew uncomfortable. So he attempted to break it. "umm..you'll teach me how to pray properly, sir?" he asked, trying to be cheerful. Mr Woods lifted his eyes up from the "Holy book" to meet Matthew's with a smile.

-"But of course, my boy. This story your father told me--about you sending paper planes to God as prayers. That is bad indeed. Prayers has a certain way to be preformed, otherwise they won't be answered. Also, the way you chose..It's a clear disrespect to our almighty God. It's like saying God was -heaven forgive me for saying this- like he was a child playing. Come here and read aloud what happens to those who ignore God's teachings and disrespect him so" he said with a smile.

Matthew read aloud the pages Mr Woods had bookmarked. His heart trembled almost as horribly as his voice. The verses revolved around one topic. One fate--Fire. Fire grilling flesh and bones. Food of thorns and boiled water for the thirsty. People like him would have their skill melted, and regrown only to melt again. Matthew's voice struggled to read aloud without shaking. He fought the urge to cry as much as he could.

Matthew learned the right way to pray over the months. He learned the exact height he should clasp his hands at. He learned the exact degree he should lower his head to. He learned where to fix his gaze and the position of his ankles as he kneels. He unlearned to pray for more toys, or a chocolate fountain in his room, or a room full of marshmallows or a little brother to play with. He learned to pray for mercy. He learned to tremble and weep when he stood before God. Now he learned how to pray so accurately, like drawing a geometric shape with his body. How pious he had become!! Mr Woods received a lot of praise and a reward from Mr Mayors. His son had not sent a paper plane throughout the past 6 months he had been teaching him. Yet his father did not see Matthew at his rooftops that night. He gazed up to the stars that didn't mean anything to him anymore. He released a paper plane into the wind and collapsed to his knees, sobbing. The paper plane that disappeared into the clouds held only 2 words. "I'm scared"

Eventually lessons stopped, and so did prayers. Spring had come and gone once, twice, thrice...six times. The clouds had not embraced any paper plane for six years. This spring no kites flew in the sky. In fact, gardens and parks were deserted this spring. Hospitals, however, were crammed like ant burrows. White coats rushed about back and forth. Television news had nothing to talk about but the contaminated water of the river. A factory had been disposing off it's chemical waste into the river for years. Year after year, the real effect of it all emerged, and now hospitals were crammed with cholera patients. Matthew sat at one of the chairs in the hospital outside a hospital room with his arm around one his school mate's shoulders.

"Hey now, your mama and little sister are going to be okay he said soothingly.

"This is the hundredth death in 3 days, Matt. I don't want my mum or little sister to..." sobbed his school mate.

"They won't. She will be okay, don't cry" he said tenderly. He hugged him gently and patted his back.

The news reporter's voice came over the television to declare the names of the deceased. Matthew heard nothing over the sobs of his mate, nor did he care. Only one name he knew so well drew his attention. ".....business man Antonio Mayors....". He did not understand half what was being said in the news. His eyes widened with terror as the news reporter's face was replaced with a video of his father dragged by policemen and ushered into a black police car. He heard something about the factory of death, and his father's name had something to do with it. He did not snap back to reality except when he found his school mate pushed him away from him. "You filthy son of the murderer!! It was him!! It was your dad who got my mum and baby sister here" he growled. Matthew's eyes were wide with shock and incomprehension as he stammered "I- I didn't know..I swear...". "You wretched devil! And you come here like you did nothing or knew nothing, Mayors!!" growled the other boy, tears streaming down his face and neck. The shouts drew the doctors attentions. The name "Mayors" now echoed in loud whispers. He looked around to watch his last name muttered with scornful glares at him. The boy's uncomprehending eyes traveled between the doctors passing by him with loath and his mate.  "James..trust me..I..." he did not manage to complete his sentence. He was silenced with a punch that the boy landed on his jaw. He ran away back to his mansion with his blood trickling down the corner of his mouth. He ran through the corridors and opened one room after the other as he yelled. "Papa!! Papa!! Come see what James did to me!! He punched me! He said i was a devil! The idiot says you got his mama and sister the cholera! Papa!! Papa, where are you? Have you seen that video of policemen taking you away?? You have to sue them for these lies. Papa?.....Papa??" he repeated. His yells turned into a cry, then a faint whisper. "Papa?". Only now he realized Papa was not home.

Weeks passed, and papa would not come back home. Mama said she didn't want to be Papa's wife anymore. She told Matthew Papa made a big mistake and he will have to stay away from them for a long time. Cholera took so many during the past few weeks. When school reopened, Matthew knew James would still be mad at him. Little did he know that everyone was mad at him. Kevin, his best friend, would not look at him. Jasmine shot him a filthy glare and looked away and Harry threw a book at him. Biology lesson was torture for him. He could not stop imagining people suffering with the symptoms of cholera. He did not even bother to go to his football practice after school. He knew what would happen anyway.
   More weeks passed, and the water of the river was eventually treated. Yet, people weren't. Mr Parker gave Matthew extra homework of an essay about the symptoms of cholera. They would not forget. Indeed, how could they forget? Matthew decided not to go to school this day. He would not listen to his mother's pleas or yells. He sat alone on his rooftop, gazing at the stars that once meant the world for him. Above was a friend he had abandoned long ago. A friend who scared him. Yet what friend now did not scare him?? He tore a page off his copybook, wrote something in it, folded it into a paper plane and released it into the wind. Maybe....no...like it would matter. It had been the first time for 6 years. Maybe he forgot how to do it. He only wrote 3 words. "I need you"

Matthew didn't go to school this whole week. He locked himself in his room and curled in his bed for hours. He preferred not seeing anyone or for anyone to suffer seeing him. That was until his mother opened the door of his room to declare a friend of his was waiting for him outside. A friend? What friend? Out of curiosity, Matt disentangled himself from his blanket and went to see who that "friend" was. Indeed it was not his mother playing games. Sitting outside was Max, the broad shouldered, goal keeper of the school team and Matthew's partner at football practice. "Hey there, Matthew. So what kind of team plays with only 10 players, Mr Lazy? huh? 6 weeks it has been, Sir!" said the boy with an annoyed look. Just annoyed. Not loathing. "Didn't you hear...umm...well...i wasn't sure if i were welcome anymore" said Matthew, lowering his gaze. "BAH!! A center midfield like you? What kind of team wouldn't welcome that?" cried Max, as if Matthew was the stupid one. "Did anything happen to you...during the..." said Matthew, unable to complete his words. "My father. But he didn't suffer much. Just a day" said Max, pain evident in his eyes. Matthew bit back his tears and patted Max's shoulder. "Then...you're mad..aren't you?" he sighed. "Eh? Why would i? Oh..you mean..Mah mah. He's Mayors, You're Matthew. End of story. Now hop into your sneakers and clothes. It's been a 6 weeks delay, mate" said Max, wiping a tear and replacing it with a smile. Matthew could barely contain his tears of joy. "Right away!" he beamed. He jumped into his training clothes and went out with Max. The gentle breeze, coming through the open window, carried a paper plane into Matthew's empty room and onto his bed. It had these words in a beautiful handwriting:

"I never left"

Author's Note

I Hope you enjoy it and i welcome constructive criticism

Oh and English is a second language for me. So You might find some spelling and grammatical errors