A Story: Part 2

St_Patrick's_Cathedral_(Gothic_Revival_Style)It was Monday. Echo dressed in a clean pressed pair of coveralls and made his way to the church, Saint Benedict Cathedral.

The parking lot was empty save for Father John’s humble sedan. Not an unexpected sight for a Monday morning. He parked next to the sedan and took a deep calming breath before getting out of his car.

The eighty year old cathedral toward over him in all its glory. Breathtakingly beautiful. The architecture was fashioned in likeness of the old gothic cathedrals, complete with ever watchful gargoyles and holy saints to guard its sacred grounds. It was in this place Echo had found faith.

Eleven years ago Echo pulled up to this church. He had been detoured off of the interstate and lost his way. A terrible storm had assaulted the roads in a downpour of hail and lightning. It had become too dark to see, and he had not enough money to afford a hotel for the night. He entered the church hoping to find sanctuary from the storm and time to gather his thoughts.

It was then he met Father John Trapani; a warm and welcoming older man with a clean shaven head and a long well kept beard. He shared with the priest his story of leaving a violent home in California, getting on the interstate, and driving in search of a place to start over. The priest took pity on him and allowed him to stay the night in one of the guest rooms usually reserved for visiting priest.

The next morning Father John offered Echo a job as a janitor to help him get on his feet. He never imagined that eleven years later he would have moved into a nearby apartment, join the church, become its grounds keeper, and make the town of Bellevue, Oregon home.

Echo shook off his reverie and entered the church.

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About Z.

Poetic pipe and cigar enthusiast rifling through the haunted memories of a not so distant past while openly wrestling with faith and God. A rambling writer with the misguided notion that he has something to say. His only redeeming qualities are his wife and children.
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