Prodigal Son
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Peter entered the meditation room and dropped down onto the floor next to his father. He placed both hands on his cheeks and rested his elbows on his knees. He forced a great breath of frustration from his lungs. He had been to the prison three times and still the man refused to listen fully to his words. Peter could sense the man was holding back, but did not understand why. All he wanted to do was help the man through his pain. What was so hard about that?
"Peter, your tension is so thick, you can cut it with a knife."
Peter turned to his father, surprise registering on his face. "You've been taking lessons from Skalany, again." Peter turned away from his father, embarrassed then realized he must have really interrupted Caine's meditation, an interruption in the past that was at times not welcomed because of some pressing need. As a Shaolin Priest, Peter should have used his senses first before disturbing his father. "Pop, I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to disturb your meditation. It's just that I've been trying to help him and he won't talk to me. I thought if we could talk, I might be able to help him, but for some reason he's refusing to level with me. He's got so much anger in him."
"Sounds like someone I used to know," Caine smiled.
"I wasn't that bad, was I?" Peter asked.
"No, my son. It only seemed that way," Caine jested.
"Well, I really don't know what I can do. If he's refusing to even talk, I may have to just let it go."
"If I remember, my son, it was you who told me once that there was no failure in trying."
"I know, it's just that I'm trying to get a handle on being a priest. I've had those same kinds of feelings and I thought I could . . . "
"Peter, only someone who wishes to help themselves will accept the open hand that is offered to them."
"But you've always said that everyone should be given a chance."
"Yes, but sometimes there are those who are so bent on destruction that there is nothing that you can do to stop it. All you can do is be there to let them know they are not alone."
"I guess so. "
"Do not blame yourself if this one man does not wish to listen to your counsel. There will be many that will need you. Some will see the wisdom of your words. Others will turn their backs."
"Have there been people like that for you?" Peter asked.
Peter watched his father's face as he breathed in deeply then let out the breath in a great sigh. He could see his father struggling with his question. 'There has been a few people,' Peter thought. 'And he's also blamed himself.' This realization somehow comforted Peter. "It's all right, Pop. I understand. I guess you can't win every time."
"No, my son."
"Tell you what, maybe we need to meditate together. I could use some of that Shamhala Master calm to rub off on me."
***
Prisoner number 4583927 continued to stare at a small spot on the wall. He had been like this ever since the young man had tried to come and see him. He could not understand why the young man came. Was he gloating over the fact that he had lost? Why did he continue to come here?
The first time the young man came and requested his presence, Prisoner 4583927 reacted with belligerence. He tried to goad the young man into an argument, but the young man just sat there calm and still. All he saw in the young man's eyes was sorrow. That angered him and he started pounding on the glass that separated them. The guards had to restrain him, fearing that he might break through the barrier. The young man just sat there and did nothing.
Then when the young man came again, Prisoner 4583927 wised up and started to ask questions. It was then that he learned that the young man was no longer a cop, but a priest. The man could not believe what he had heard, a priest of all things. That was a joke, a sick joke. What was the young man going to do, try to save his soul after trying to kill him in the brewery? Who was he kidding? He called the young man a hypocrite. Then the young man did something he had not expected. He asked for Prisoner 4583927's forgiveness. Forgiveness, and for what? Though he did feel some remorse at what he had done to the older man, the hatred he felt in his soul for the younger still remained.
Finally, when the young man returned for a third time, Prisoner 4583927 refused to even speak to him. It was his turn to sit in front of that glass and just stare, his hands folded in front of his chest. In his mind he screamed at the man beyond the glass. 'GET OUT OF MY FACE! YOU CAUSED IT ALL! YOU WILL PAY! AS GOD IS MY WITNESS, YOU WILL PAY!'
When their time was up, he watched as the young man left, his shoulders sagging in defeat. Prisoner 4583927 had to smile over that small victory as he was led back to his cell. Once back in his cage, he continued to stare. Then a smile formed on his lips as a plan began to form in his mind.
Continues with Part 1
Alisa Joaquin Copyright@2006.
This story cannot be reprinted or sold in any other form without strict permission from
the author. It is being distributed here solely for your enjoyment.
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