My life has been unpredictable and magnificent. I would like to tell you of how an almost ordained priest gave it all up for…well that is a tale for a later time. I guess it is time for this story to be told.

            Well my story begins in a coal-mining town in West Virginia in the year of 1986. My life growing up was like everyone else in this town, boring, dirty, and angry. My father “killed” my mother when I was five all because he beat her into depression with his entire yelling, cursing and physical harm. She hated life and threatened to leave him and take me with him, but that never happened. She died two days later when she overdosed on LSD.

            Now my “loving” father took me under his wing and forced me to go to his work at age sixteen, even though I did not want to. I told him what I wanted to do with my life and he laughed in my face. I told him that I wanted to be a priest and go to St. Tikhon Seminary in South Canaan, Pennsylvania. He told me that no son of his would ever give up on him and go into a career like priesthood. I said to him that I did not care what he said to me, when I turn eighteen, I would leave him and go into the priesthood.

            Two years past by, and I graduated from high school the top of my class. I was eighteen now and I was ecstatic to leave this horrendous and dirty town. I was already accepted into the seminary, and they told me that they were proud to have me go to their school. My father was not at my graduation, or helped me pack up to go to the seminary. However, none of that mattered to me because I was ready to leave this dump of a town and start on my new life.

            So, how did I ever like the idea of being a priest? That is a long story. First of all, I loved to go to the church near my house whenever my parents had a fight. It was a haven for me, and I have gotten to know the elderly priest there, Father John. He always told me: ”Robert, you would make a great priest,” and I always believed him. At the age of ten, I became fully involved in the church; despite of how my father may have felt about it. My mother, bless her soul, always fought for me because of how much I loved the church. She always had hope for me that I could do whatever I put my mind up to and I know she died for our happiness and us. I want to become a priest not just, because I love the church, but for my mother. 

            The bishop at our seminary was the most religious and strict man I have ever met. He told me one day that I would make a horrendous priest, but I disagree full heartily. He does not know how much I love the church, and how much I want this. He is just like my father, and I would love to never have to see him again.

            I went with my other classmates to bless the nearby home today, because the family that lives their moved from Harlem and needed to get away from their as quickly as possible. The Vietcong killed this family’s son, brother, the father etc. in a raid. I prayed all that night for this family, and prayed for my life so God will not force me to be drafted for this pointless war.

            The next day, I heard from the other students that we would not be drafted because we are soon-to-be priests. That night, I thanked God for this unbelievable news and I went to sleep hoping that this is true.

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            I am not yet a deacon, but I have to prove myself worthy for the priesthood. They are sending me to France to the small town of St. Lindsborg. They have had many problems with their church since the last King died. He left everything to his incompetent daughter, Isabelle, and she is only sixteen and she has no idea how to run a church besides a kingdom. France supposedly does not have Kings or Queens anymore, but this small town is unlike any other, because one runs them. They new Queen has asked me, personally, to run her church because she does not know how to run it. I, of course, said yes and I will come as quickly as possible.

            It took me three days to get to this place because there are no airports, railways, freeways etc. to this place. I thought it was all a joke. This so-called Queen was not real, but a person who wanted to pull my leg. As I got closer to this so-called kingdom, a grungy looking man welcomed me into this town.

            How do I describe my new home!  The tall looming buildings stretched for miles and they were all painted gold and/or a light brown.  There were no restrooms, but outhouses, like there was in the 1800’s.  The buildings were quaint and they did not look like I thought houses would look like.  The townspeople looked like peasant folk with their dirty hair and clothes.  I also saw a bar with prostitutes in them and disgusting men slobbering all over them.  I knew that this would have to change if I have a say in the matter.  As I reached my destination, I thought I was walking out from a fairytale.  I thought that a unicorn or werewolf would walk out from one of the buildings, but I knew that would never happen.

            I was brought up to a large castle like building and I then knew just then that I was in a fairytale. The tall fortress stood before me and I could see towers and gargoyles lining the castle.  My heart pounded as fast as if a cheetah was in my heart. I never believed in fairytales, but I guess I should start believing in them.