A Honest Hearts short story
I haven’t been active. That’s rather clear. I’ve been writing off and on, however, and thought I’d post some of the random little tidbits I’ve written for myself. Here’s a little conversation between my courier and Joshua Graham.
“I was raised by ardent christians. My parents said grace before every meal, prayed for themselves, each other, me, and the NCR. We even had a small mural in our apartment- a shelf covered in homemade candles and our collection of rosaries.” Lucille smiles as she reminisces, the solemn smile of missing a past she can’t return to. Joshua knew it well.
“Did you practice with your family?” Joshua asks, watching her over the campfire. He wasn’t intending to sound like he was prodding- he was just striking up conversation the best way he knew how. Lucille’s grin lifts at his observation.
“well...I was a troubled kid.” Lucille looked down. Joshua reads the regret in her face. “...I’ve been largely unreligious for most of my life, but my outlook as changed since my run-in with a 9mm pistol to the brain...ironically engraved with La Santa Maria.”
The crackle of the flame fills the air for a moment, the two dwelling in their thoughts. Joshua was curious of this Courier, this courier who took a minuscule job offer that led them to being stranded in Zion; this courier who’s experienced so much; this courier who’s stumbled into his narrative and offered her help for no reward.
“...And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” Joshua slowly repeats the verse, each word dwelling on his tongue as he contemplates the meaning. “Romans 8:28.”
Lucille looks up at him, fire dancing in her pupils. “...yeah. If I survived all that, surely there is a greater force in my favor.”
“Hm.” Joshua makes a noise, not discernible but perhaps a laugh. “Seems we’ve both required death to come back to our religion.”
Lucille giggles, more solemn then humored. “Yea...it took death, but not my own.” She looked up at Joshua, her eyes peering into him. “I...I was dug out of that grave a worse person than I was before. I was angry. Vengeful. I trekked across the whole fuckin’ Mojave to shoot a man in the head.” She stutters, looking up at Joshua. “Uh- sorry about cursing.”
“It’s fine.” Joshua dismisses her concerns, more deeply invested in her struggle. It was so similar to his own.
“Yeah...I knew killing him wasn’t going to change anything. But every time I have a pulsing migraine, or forget something from my past- or hell, my vision blurs...I can’t help but think ‘It’s all his fault’.’” Lucille clenched her fist. Joshua saw tears gathering in her eyes. “Sorry, I...I’ve never really talked to anyone about this.”
“Letting emotion fester inside you only makes the anger grow worse.” Joshua speaks from expirence, looking down at the scripture in his hands, and then up at Lucille. “Sometimes speaking the negativities helps you better understand yourself.”
Lucille stares at Joshua a moment, a perplexed look on her face as a single tear rolls down her cheek. Then she smiles. That grin she’s been wearing from the start- a confident smile even after facing tragedies tenfold.
