~ By Amanda Pizzolatto
He waited for some time after the church was locked before emerging from his hiding place among the shadows. He took in the beauty that was Notre Dame. It had been a while since he had been here, but the scents, the sights, and the sounds of candlelight flickering brought him back to the days of his youth. They weren’t that much better than where he was now, but at least back then he had the sanctuary of the church to run to. His heart rejoiced to see that the great cathedral remained the same. At least something did in his otherwise crazy and ever-changing life, an oasis in his desert.
He gave a slight bow to the statue of Our Lady before dashing up the stairs to the bell tower. He enjoyed listening to them and wondered who was ringing them nowadays. He smiled sadly as he knew it couldn’t be Quasimodo, though he wished he could have met the fellow. It had been about a hundred years since the book came out. It was still his favorite, to this day. Notre Dame and Quasimodo were his favorite parts about it. He glanced at the bells and ran his hand almost lovingly over the ropes connected to them. He longed to ring one, but he knew that doing so would wake the town and bring the bishop scurrying. He didn’t want anyone to find him, not yet. But there was one thing he could do; he could sing.
The words came faintly as he searched for them from the years he heard the song repeated. He had begged for their repetition some days, the song soothed him so much. Now, with each passing note, his voice grew steadier and the words came tumbling back into his mind. He paused and started the Ave Maria all over again, this time with a clear, strong voice and an assurance of what the next word was. He sang the song twice, thrice, four times, and soon found himself singing an entire rosary. The words lifted him like the bells did, to such a height that he felt no one could ever hurt him again. It also awakened a yearning to see the halls of Heaven, to speak to those who, in their lifetime and even now in Heaven, would never have shunned him.
As the final amen died in the air, he stole towards a window and was startled to see the first pink tinges of dawn warming up the night. He had to hurry; the spell had been broken. He dashed down the stairs and was startled by the passing glimpse of a skeleton. He went back to where he saw it. He sighed as he glanced at himself in a reflective candelabra. No one would accept him, just like Quasimodo. He recalled the reason for his haste and finished his descent into the church. There was one final thing he had to do before he left the church. He didn’t know if he would ever come back and figured now was the best time to do it, just in case.
The next morning, when the bishop came into Notre Dame to begin preparations for Mass, he was startled to find a bouquet at the feet of the statue of Mary. The bishop picked it up cautiously and examined it. It was a fresh bouquet of white, pink, and yellow roses surrounding a red rose. The bishop found a note that read, “To the only mother who would never turn me away. Your Aves always soothes me.” The bishop smiled as he returned the note and the bouquet. So, the Blessed Mother had taken another wayward child under her care. The bishop decided right then and there that he would say this morning’s Mass with the intentions of this wayward child, that he may find a little peace in this world and that the Blessed Virgin would be sent to welcome him with open arms into the next.
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