Groot: the untold story (episode 2)

Transforming to walking trees.
He said to himself, "the watching is over".
He ran like he never ran before.
I ran to a point where there were too many people causing a human traffick. He was stuck. He said to himself, "Taa! I'm the mean character, I just can't die at the beginning of the story! I'm not Ned Stark."

He managed to get himself to side of the now overly crowded road and shouted, "look, there is another one in front!"

Fortunately for him, only a few people cared to look before running. There was a stampede. Before long, his path was clear.
The road lead to cul-de-sac, surrounded by very expensive houses with high fences.
"Shit! I'm not dying today."
He ran around for a while till he came across a hidden alleyway. The alleyway had a little gate which he forced open.
The sound of dogs barking came from the left fence of one of the two fences that formed the alleyway. He jumped over the little gate at the end of the alleyway only to meet a...
"Hey! Stop there!"
"Where do you think you are going", quizzed by a face with a countenance that suggested a trigger happy individual.

Pointing his gun at him, his grimace still demanded an answer.
"I... I... Something was chasing everyone. It's killing people and turning them into..."

"Were you affected. I mean, has the greenish substance touched you, he asked still holding his gun firm.
"No! I'm one of the lucky few to escape."
To be continued...

Davis met Princessa

I was in the shower having my bath. And midway into it, I heard a knock on the door. I quickly watched my face and tied a towel. I peeped through the window to find out who it was.
Realising it wasn't someone I know I said, "give me a minute."
As I was about turning around, his countenance flashed before my eyes and formed an eerie perception.
I felt I knew him more than anything but I was at the same time very sure I've never seen him before.
I cleaned myself up and put on proper clothes. I opened the door and went outside to inquire proper who he was.

"You might want to let me in. What we have to discuss isn't something you'd want hear while standing", he said.

"Who are you", I rebuffed.
"I am Davis Richards. The only son of my single mother. The bereft lover of Pricessa Okafor."

At this point, I fainted.
I woke up, with my head aching badly and body soaked with water. I remember discussing this particular scenario with a friend a week ago. After which she tried to scare the hell out of me with imageries of its possiblity.

"Are you okay", he inquired.
I waved my hand in the affirmative.

"Are you telling me you are Davis Richards, the ghost of time?"

"Yes."

"How... How are you real? How are you able to have a form?"

"You stopped writing my story after gaining admission into the university. But that wasn't what made me have form. You gave the book to someone, and she altered the book terribly. That action sort of magically gave life to me."

"Hmm. Are you sure, I asked.

"Truthfully, I'm not sure. But that's the closest conclusion."

"So did you find me Davis?"

"It was quite easy. I'm the ghost of time remember?"

"It don't think that has anything to do finding someone, I retorted."

"Ok. I reversed psychoanalysed you."
"How?!"
"You designed me to reason like you remember. I sort of even think like you. In fact, the only difference between you and I, is that I'm the ghost of time and you are... You."

"Stop sounding proud. I made you, remember? I'm not a 'You'. I am your creator."

"Take your own advice already. If I'm proud, it's because you made me so, and if you made me so, it's because your are proud."

"You still haven't told me why you came."

He suddenly became silent and sullen.

"You killed Princessa. And as I was about going to the past to bring her back to life, I froze..."

"Oh. That was where I stopped writing the book", I interjected."

"I've been miserable alive in this sad, real world. Seven years, I looked for you. Seven years!"

Tears run down his cheeks while started disappearing and reappearing erratically.
I became intensely scared.
He started to calm himself down when he saw I was scared out of my mind.

"I'm so sorry. I forgot you are used to seeing this in real life. I'm so so so sorry."

"It's fine", I replied.

"But why did you kill Princessa?"

"As it turns out, you are not the only one who loved her."
A confusion struck across his face.
"How do you mean", Davis quizzed.

"Princessa isn't just a fictional character. I know her in this real life. I stopped writing the story because we broke up. I lost the muse. So I abandoned the book. I couldn't bear to write a story using the name of someone who broke my heart."

"Why didn't you just change the name?"

"You don't get it? She died to me. Meaning she dies to you also. I had to let go and move on. If had ever changed the name like you suggested, it will no longer be Princessa. Not exactly though. Though you would still love her nonetheless.
I guess, I didn't know you could actually autonomously have feelings."

"So what are you going to do? You need to continue the story, please please."

"Davis, the story would have ended with you in a heartbreak. Spoiler alert— she dies eventually."

"Why?!"
"I've seen Game of thrones, that's why. In addition, I'm no longer that guy seven years ago. I've grown and my heart's not fragile and 'fairy tales-squed'."

"I'm so sorry Davis. I can write you a different story though. One where you use your superpowers to the fullest. I just started the story."

"What about Princessa and bring her back?"
"Forget her. I'll find you someone else. There 7 billion people in this real world. But there are an upteenth number of persons in my imagination. I'll create someone 100 time more beautiful than Princessa. See it as an upgraded version."

"Hmm. Adventure. A chance to feel the rush of Adrenaline. A chance to meet someone entirely much more exciting?"

"Yeah!"

"I'm doing this for you. But when I'm done. I want Princessa back. She broke up with you, not me."

Story continues in the crossover: Groot—the untold story.

Groot: The untold story

He stood at the cross roads and kept looking for a taxi.
The environment was tranquil and peaceful. At a point, he shrug off the thought that a taxi would come his direction.

As he was about to take a step, he heard screams from behind him.

"Ahh! Run! Run for your life!"
"What is happening", he asked.
But no one took notice of his presence, as they all fled for their lives.

Just then he looked ahead I saw what looked like a tree. And it was moving. Moving and somewhat talking.
"Ahh!!!"
It spat a greenish substance from what seemed like it's mouth. As soon as the substance touched humans, they started transforming to...

To be continued.

St. Valentine's absence in the ordo.

The current “ordo,” the church’s official annual calendar of feasts, lists Feb. 14 as the feast of St. Cyril, monk, and St. Methodius, bishop. They were blood brothers in the ninth century who are known as the “Apostles to the Slavs.”

They began by preaching the Gospel in Moravia (in the eastern part of what is now the Czech Republic) and translated the liturgy into the Slavonic language. (Feb. 14 was the date of St. Cyril’s death.)

In the 1962 missal of Pope John XXIII, Feb. 14 was marked as the feast of St. Valentine. As closely as can be determined, Valentine was a priest of Rome who was martyred in the persecution under the Emperor Claudius, probably around the year 270.

Legend says that Claudius had issued a decree forbidding his military troops to marry and that Valentine defied this decree by urging young lovers to come to him for the sacrament of matrimony.

Further legend has it that during Valentine’s imprisonment, he befriended the blind daughter of his jailer, converted her and her father to Christianity, restored her sight and, the night before his execution, wrote her a farewell message signed, “From Your Valentine.”

In the 1969 reform of the liturgical calendar, the church reduced the number of feast days of saints for whom hard historical facts were scarce, including St. Valentine.

His popularity persists, however, along with age-old customs of cards and candy — and if you surveyed Catholics as to whose feast we celebrate Feb. 14, probably 99 percent would answer “St. Valentine’s.”

Reference:
By Father Kenneth Doyle