The chapel (standard:drama, 880 words)
Author: jopoguerrero	Added: May 22 2009	Views/Reads: 3064/1841	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Death of pro-poor stance

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

went to the parking lot where he berated the damned moneyed kids there. 
He called them pigs and crocodiles and robbers of the poor man's 
bread!” 

“Then?” Aleister almost shouted. 

“Then they attacked him,” Joey started to cry. “Six muscular brats
mauled our puny Rush, Aleister. And those bastards simply drove their 
cars away after crushing our friend, as if nothing happened. Some 
ambulant vendors witnessed the crime. They were the ones who rushed our 
friend to the infirmary....Aleister, the doctors said that Rush is 
dying. He is just holding his last breath for you.” 

“The vendors,” Aleister let tears fall from his eyes. “Will they stand
as witnesses to what happened to Rush?” 

Joey's shook his head almost frantically as they entered the infirmary.
“Don't expect that to happen, my friend.” 

Rush tried to smile when Aleister gently wrapped his arms around him. 

The face of Rush was bloated to the point of breaking. Dark blue mounds
hulked on his forehead, eyes and cheeks, while sluggish blood clung on 
his nose and ears. His lips were cracking and trembling. 

Aleister tried to utter something but his tears drowned the words. 

“Shhhhhhh,” Rush smiled. 

“Don't cry,” he said. “Don't worry, I'm used to dying, I'm used to
death. Do you remember when we first met? When I was talking to myself 
like crazy as I gazed on the hanging cross?” 

Aleister nodded. 

“That was the time I realized why that cross was hanged,” Rush
explained. “Suspended in mid-air, not planted, not situated on the 
ground... I think it symbolizes the kind of educational salvation we 
have in this school.” 

Rush coughed, blood dripped at the corner of his lips. 

He grimaced in pain yet he continued. “Aleister, it is there hanging,
inviting. But only the strong and powerful can reach it – not us, weak 
and helpless. Yes, its oblation spreads only for the affluent, while 
leaving us – the poor – dying in false expectations on the filthy 
ground.” 

“Don't say that,” Aleister finally croaked. “There is still God who
loves us all.” 

“I hope so,” Rush painfully said. “I hope that He loves all His
children, even us, the lesser ones.” 

Rush smiled at his friend, sweetly, for the last time. 

Outside, the rain started to pour. 


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