Disclaimer: I don't own Miracles blah blah but hell I wish I did.
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Finally. Here it is. The chapter that explains everything. This is my theory of what Miracles is about. :D It's got some Harry Potter influences in it, but it seemed to be the only thing that fit. Sorry for being so uncreative. XD I wasn't sure what format to put this chapter in...should I make it a flashback? Should I make it Paul telling the story to Keel and Evie? Should I make it a third person format? What? I decided to put a bit more effort into this chapter and make it a flashback. This might take up more than one chapter...we'll have to see. Hope you like. And sorry for the long wait!! Please review! If it weren't for you guys reviewing, I wouldn't be writing this chapter!! :D
Remember: BRING MIRACLES BACK!
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The man was a strict Catholic man. He was a man who went against all stereotypical men. A tall, slim Italian with long black hair and delicate creamy skin. He was soft-spoken, thoughtful and dark. If it wasn't for the hints of masculinity on his body and face, people would have mistaken him for a (some what pretty) woman. If someone asked the man what he most liked about himself, he would most probably reply "My eyes." They were indeed, the best features he had. Some people, if you asked them, would say that they were the eyes of the devil. Others would say they were the eyes of a broken man. While some would say they were the eyes of a fallen angel. His eyes didn't have a definite color. It was a deep, inky black that sometimes flashed purple. However, if you glanced at them, you might catch a glimpse of flashing gold and blinding white. It differed for everyone.
He was only 22 when he saw her.
He remembered seeing her at the pew, her head bowed and her golden hair cascading over her face. He had walked up to where she prayed and he kneeled down next to her, bowing his head while trying to catch a glimpse at her hidden features. They stayed like that for over fifteen minutes. Both curious about the other, and both trying to figure out each other's facial features. After a struggling fight, he stood up and sat back on the wooden bench. The mysterious woman muttered her finishing prayer and she too sat back on the bench. The two stared at each other.
She was an angel. Her eyes were bright blue, flashing and blinding him. Her lips, a soft rose pink color, and her skin was a delicate white. Her hair flowed around her head like a halo and he half expected to see a pair of majestic white wings to uncurl from her back. She was wearing a sea blue dress that stopped short of her knees and a small silver cross hung at her slim neck, catching the candlelight and winking at him every now and then.
He saw innocence and golden radiance in her eyes. It made him feel hot and cold. It made him feel safe.
She saw vulnerability and terrible suffering in his eyes. It made her feel hot and cold. It made her feel protective.
She was only 19.
He was only 22.
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Marianne loved scrapbooking. Ever since she was a young child, she would gather up photos and random bits and bobs and stick them in her scrapbook. Right now, she was making a new scrapbook. But this one was special. It was a scrapbook of her and Peter's first child. Jonathon Peter Andersson. He was the star, the light of their lives. The answer to their questioning love. The reward and gift from God. He was 3
years old. An age where incoherent blabber slowly evolved into words and broken sentences. His first word was "Paul". Paul was John's teddy bear. Funnily enough, it was John who named his bear Paul. Marianne and Peter could not figure out where John had heard the name from. They didn't have any relatives who were named Paul. "But we do read the Bible to John. Maybe it's from there?" Peter had suggested. Marianne agreed. And that was that.
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It was a phone call from Marianne. Peter was at work-his music studio in town-when he got the call. The call was the one thing that changed his life forever. The call was the beginning of the end. The start of a string of chaotic tragedies, that can only be called as the devil's work.
"Hello?"
Peter...
"Oh hi, honey."
Peter...
"Mari?"
Peter...
"Marianne? What's wrong?"
Peter...It's John...
"What?"
John...It's...Oh my God...
"Marianne? Marianne, what's going on?"
He...It was so fast...I couldn't...Oh my God...
"What was fast? What happened? Marianne? Where's John?"
John...It was like a dream. Like a nightmare...
"Please Marianne, tell me. What happened?"
He's gone...Just like that...So fast.
"What? Where are you Marianne? I'm coming to get you."
John...Peter...JOHN! He's DEAD!
"Marianne..."
HE'S DEAD! HE'S DEAD! HE'S DEAD! IT WAS SO FAST!
"MARIANNE!"
THE CAR JUST DROVE ON! IT WAS SO FAST! SO FAST!
"MARIANNE!"
Click
Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep
"Mari...Marianne?"
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"Wait...you had a brother?"
Paul shrugged. "Apparently," he said, heavily.
Keel stared at him. "It's not in the records," he said.
"Let him finish," Evie said softly.
Paul sighed and ran a hand over his tired eyes. "So...John was my elder brother. He was killed by a drunk driver. It was a hit and run. No one knew who the driver was and no one saw him again. Marianne-
my...mother...I guess (Paul grimaced and his mouth twitched into a sad smile)-sunk into deep depression. She couldn't do anything. Just lie in bed and try to live another day." He paused as he gazed out of the window and over the grey, rain washed city. It was one in the afternoon and it had only been thirteen hours since he met his father for the first time in over twenty years.
Keel coughed awkwardly and Evie shot Keel a dirty look.
Paul turned back to his friends. "Peter...my biological father...dad...didn't know what to do. He went searching for answers-"
"Answers?" Keel's forehead creased.
"Er...praying...for answers."
"Ah."
"A year later Marianne conceived another child. Another year later the child was born."
"That child, I assume, would be you?" Keel noted.
"Yeah. Apparently, all was well for about six months. Then..." Paul gave out a tired and somewhat angry laugh. "Peter was driving to meet Marianne. I was in the car with him. And...well...a truck collided with the car."
A flash of blinding light.
Blaring horns.
Screaming.
Piercing pain.
Paul winced and held a hand up to his head.
"Paul?" Keel laid a hand on his shoulder.
He shrugged off the sudden head ache and continued.
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He would have dreams. Dreams that made no sense. Dreams that he hid along with his darkest fears and secrets. The dream had filled in the missing blanks of his memories. It explained his destiny.
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Peter!
Paul...My dear son...Paul.
Peter...What happened to me? To us?
Please...Call me Dad.
Dad?
We were both dead, Paul. We were in Limbo for a while. Awaiting our fate.
What happened?
I couldn't bear to see you dead. You hadn't seen life yet, and I knew you were meant for larger things. You had a destiny like no other, son.
Destiny?
I made a deal.
Deal? With who?
Lucifer of course.
The devil? But...How could you? Why would you do that?
I had to, Paul! In order for you to live...in order for your mother to live, I had to.
So you gave up your soul to the devil.
That's right.
Who said being alive was better than being dead?
Paul...You mustn't speak like that.
Well isn't it true? I've been put through so much pain and losses. Is it really worth it? Is it?
You are sounding like your mother. Please, Paul. Try to understand. You are meant for bigger things.
Bigger things? Bullshit.
I did it for you and Marianne.
You did it for Marianne. Not me.
I did it for both of you. I gave up eternity in paradise for eternity in hell. For you.
...Sorry.
I love you Paul. You know that, right?
Yeah...I do.
I know you hardly knew me. But I am still your father. And I still love you as my son.
I love you too.
Paul?
Yeah?
I'm so very sorry.
For what?
For the pain that is yet to come.
What do you mean?
You are the only one on this earth who carries the world's pain.
The world's pain?
You are the healer, Paul. The healer who sacrifices himself for the world.
Is that my destiny?
No. That is who you are right now.
Then what's my destiny?
To die.
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"Matris Vitualamen," Paul said suddenly.
"Mother's Sacrifice?" Keel said.
"Yeah. Matris Vitualamen."
"What about it, Paul?" Said Evie.
He glanced at the clock that lay on the paint peeled wall. It was two.
"Matris Vitualamen has been referred to in millions of books, films, and music. The public knows it, but no one actually knows what it's really about." Paul held a hand to his head as the room tilted for a second. "Urgh...Um...Matris Vitualamen. A good example is Harry Potter." He closed his eyes. The headache was getting worse. Maybe he was coming down with the flu or something?
Keel coughed and took over. " It is said that the mother's love for her child is the strongest in the world. If it could be measured in power, it would be enough to light up the entire earth for years."
"That's sweet, Alva," Evie smiled. "But I don't see what this has to do with Paul."
"I'm getting there. It is also said that when a mother sacrifices herself for her child-Matris Vitualamen-the child will be protected from any sort of evil for the rest of their life."
Paul nodded. "I was affected by the Matris Vitualamen. I was eleven when it happened. The unexplainable curse that was affecting our family had struck again. I remember...It came back to me so clearly when he told me."
"He? Your father?"
"Yeah. My foster father." Paul gave a small smile then continued. "There was this small shop we'd used to go to. Me and Marianne. There was this old man who used to always greet us at the door and give me a piece of sweet whenever we went there. Marianne would always chat with the old man for a while, and I remember this huge plastic train that the old man had next to his counter. It was full of toys for sale, and I would always play with them. Sometimes the old man would let me keep one. One day...one day, there was this man. He...I couldn't remember his face. But I did remember how scared I was. There was screaming and yelling. I remember the man had a gun and he fired some shots. I don't remember what happened to the old man. But...I think he was already dead when we came to the shop. The man was about to shoot me. I couldn't do anything. I was too scared. Then...Marianne took it for me. The shot. The shot that was meant to kill me killed her." Paul stared down at his hands. "Matris Vitualamen."
"So you were protected from all evil for a while I gather?" Keel said softly.
"Yeah. I was." A long pause. Then, "I was taken into a foster home. There was this guy...Max Callan. He raised me for five years. I came to know him as my dad. He had adopted me as well. When I was fourteen. But...when I was sixteen, I came home to find him gone. He had disappeared. I got sent to an orphanage and I was raised by...well you know. Poppy."
"Do you know what happened to him? Max?" Evie asked.
"Well...I saw Max last night. He tracked me down. He was the one who told me who I was and what had happened to me. He told me he had reasons for disappearing like that." Paul gave a sour laugh. "I really don't want to know."
"Paul, what do you mean you were protected from evil?" Keel asked, suddenly.
Paul shrugged. "When I heard of the Matris Vitualamen, it explained a whole lot of shit."
"Which is...?"
"Well, this is my theory. I think that after I went to the other side to see Tommy, the Matris Vitualamen wore off somehow."
"Why do you think that?"
"I...No reason really. It's just a theory."
"Paul?"
"Just a theory, Keel."
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After he went to the other side to see Tommy, he started having dreams. Not just normal, nightmarish dreams-but dreams that made his heart pound madly. That made him lose his voice for days due to screaming painfully in his sleep. That made him bite down on his tongue so hard that he'd wake up choking on blood. That made him start to see things and hear things that wasn't a part of reality or a dream. The devil was taking hold of his mind. The devil was taking hold of Paul's destiny.
The dreams told him exactly what he was. A pawn. A pawn in the chess game of life.
The dreams told him his destiny.
He was a messenger. A messenger of the Darkness. He was a messenger of the end of the world. And at the end of the world he is to live. He is meant to live-along with the others who were chosen.
The chosen few who have been sent the message "God is Nowhere", written in their own blood.
The chosen few who are the Darkness.
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AN-:D Hey all!! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It didn't take me long to type it up (or maybe it's because I had so much fun writing it!! :D) and I'm amazed at how long this chappy is! The next chappy...I dunno what to write really. If you have any ideas, then please review!! I appreciate you guys for sticking with me. I really enjoyed writing this story. :)
Love you all!
Review please! :D
Love always,
Violentpop.
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Paul: (Crossing his arms) God I sound so depressed in this story. I'm not really. See? (Cheesy grin) And why is it I always get hit in the head? I know this doesn't have anything to do with this chapter...but it's been bugging me for a while now. I mean, sure it's a trademark thing, but hell, it's quite painful. Why not change it to something less damaging? I mean, I could have brain trauma you know. Head injuries aren't to be taken lightly. No wonder I'm so depressed in this story. I mean, I do get knocked out repeatedly. Who wouldn't be depressed? (Sighs and stares out of window gloomily)
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We all love you Paul-Depressed or not depressed! But you do have to agree-Solemn Paul is quite sexy! :P
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Until next chapter...So long! xox