Prologue to My New Novel

Prologue

My name is Fleur. I’m an orphan, so I don’t have any surname to attach my first name with. I live in Tarragona, Davao Oriental, a small municipality by the coast surrounded by dense forests, meadows and pastures, and coconuts areas. The townspeople including the parishioners and my church-mates would only acquaint me as Fleur of Tarragona to people outside of our municipality.

I reside within the compounds of San Pedro Claver’s Parish, under the care of two parishioners Miss Emma and her husband, Brother Noel. They never had a child but they were very kind to raise the four of us­ ― me, Sheddoné, Dan and Sebastien­—altogether parentless since childhood.

In exchange to their kindheartedness, the four of us decided to serve in church and in the community. Dan and Sheddoné served during the mass and home visitations. Sebastien’s considered as the most outstanding of us four, not because he’s the eldest, but also because he's the most active and efficient in community and church activities. Sebastien’s remarkably knowledgeable on the subject of religion and philosophy­—in which I’m very poor at! Since my potentials could undeniably not equal theirs, I’m better off cleaning around San Pedro’s compound . . . like a janitress.

Other than being an all-around janitress of San Pedro Claver’s Parish, I’m also a senior in Tarragona Public High. Even with my academics, I never pass for the honor roll . . . nor have I joined any extra-curricular activity . . . ever.

An average girl, you may call me . . . err . . . perhaps a little bit below the average . . . and please—forget about the physical aspect! Shall we just stick to the old proverbs: “Don’t judge a book by its cover,” or simply, “Looks can be deceiving.” From thus, I believe that ignorance can never speak a person’s truth; nor judgment based on blind faith. And as for me, the past has long been forgotten, and I know enough about myself, my life and my truth­―or so I thought.

The Bell tolled.

“Good morning!”

I greet the chirping Maya birds outside my window . . . and as always, unsurprisingly, my greeting sent the windows to bolt out open again.