Source Pixabay
The alter being well furnished with Jesus status
when he was nailed to the cross with stains of blood displaying the bleeding her went through at it’s right and to the left a status of Mary’s gentle soul with a floral crown surrounding her with a gigantic white illuminating bulbs in the alter.
My dad, though he was not a Catholic at birth, embraced this faith while growing up; he passes this belief on to us, including my Ma, after marriage.
Everything about our faith was questionable, from the incense swayed during the procession to the cross and the candles, which, despite my young age, I figured out would represent light; the rest were not answered. My dad was the appropriate person who had answers to my questions. Being frightened of my dad, I refrained from asking them as my little thought considered them "SILLY.”.
We had this strict rule where we went to church together and early; we also sat in front according to Pa; we would concentrate more; he was also able to keep an eye on us.
Going for early morning masses was one of the most horrible experiences, a night before he would warn us to go to bed early, but as kids we often sneak out to watch cartoons till midnight before retiring back to bed. I feel movie nights on Saturday hit differently and still does.
Few hours into our sleep, my dad's voice echoes through the room. I unconsciously listen to his footsteps and wait a few seconds before he grabs the door handle before I jump out of bed.
Have your bath and get dressed. Pa will say to be sure you are awake.
As soon as he closes the door behind him, I am off for a quick nap. The second person that comes around is Ma, to remind you of Pa’s punishment if he gets you sleeping. I have never been a victim, but my sister has; she was baptized a second time, but this time in bed. Most Sunday mornings, I attended them without a bath, just a face wash and an armpit scrub, rather than enter the Lion‘s Den.
Another part of the Roman Catholic Church I was yet to understand what actually occurred during the holy Eucharist, why the slow hymns were beginning to be sang, what people did when the knelt down, and its significance. I attended a Catholic primary school, and a few times my friends and I often ask ourselves this question. She asked her elder sister once, and she said she would figure it out when she’s an adult. We prayed for adulthood more than anyone I presumed.
Adulthood arrived faster than it was needed, but my dad’s attitude towards church still remained. We got a little rebellious at a point and sat two seats behind him; at first he ranted throughout the drive back that Sunday, repeatedly ignoring him and going ahead to do what we wanted, which made him give up.
Becoming an adult also meant I was prepared to receive the holy communion; at that point the thought didn’t intrigue me compared to when I was a kid, but nevertheless I had to go through it as it is mandatory.
The journey was captivating at first, then later got a little bit bumpy. I misplaced an important book needed for the process and had to restart the classes again. The first time was with my classmates in school, this time at home. I despised having to show up at church as I barely had friends that were part of the classes. In the midst of it, I still embarked on this journey. The journey came to an end when I was able to properly answer the question thrown at me. Our next meetup was for confession, and we were asked to recollect the things we had done in the past, as confessing them will give us a fresh start and not tell us all of committing another sin.
Source Pixabay
I went home that day reminiscing about my past. I did a lot of bad things, and telling that out was so hard; admitting to some was harder. I struggled with this to the point I thought of skipping that day, but that’s the only way to get to the finals. The day came and I went through with it after so much hesitation. I nearly skipped it at first, using house chores as an excuse, but Pa got a call from church stating my absence. One stern look from my Pa reformatted my brains, and I knew what I needed to do. On arrival to church, I thought of the worst sins committed by other individuals and decided to get myself together. I went through the confession process and thereafter received the holy communion.
I love everything about the Roman catholic and knowing the significance growing of most practices makes it more fascinating church asides the confession part which I tend to skip every now and then.
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Hi @iammmema. I wanted to share a few tips and suggestions with you.
The first one is that you wrote this story for the fiction prompt and tagged it as fiction, but it appears to be a nonfiction story. Do you know the difference? Fictional stories are made up from our imagination about characters. If you read other fiction stories in our community, you will see that these are all stories invented by the authors. Nonfiction stories are real life stories, from our real experiences. (And in fact we have a requirement of community members that you read and comment on at least two other authors' stories for each one you post in The Ink Well.)
Here are some resources for you:
So in other words, if you are writing a story for a fiction prompt, it should be an imagined story describing the experiences of imagined characters. If you write a story for one of our creative nonfiction prompts, it should be your real life experiences, told with action, dialogue and other storytelling techniques like fiction.
Here's a helpful reminder about these topics that appears in each of our monthly newsletters (like this one from October):
Also, I recommend that you review and edit your first paragraph, as it does not make sense.
Hopefully these tips are helpful.
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