I Didn't Pray For These Baguettes Novels & Stories

Not that public speaking was ever her thing, but she could certainly whip something up into a script that she could perhaps read aloud – or ask somebody else to. A prayer was different because if you memorized it, the teachers would criticize you for not speaking from the heart. It didn’t have black-and-white rules either. It was either you knew what to do or you didn’t, and it all went down to whether you prayed regularly at home aloud with your family. The Lapuz family did try to start an Our Daily Bread habit for a while, but since it was only Kate and Mrs. Lapuz alternating to the exclusion of the soft-spoken and always impatiently hungry Mr. Lapuz, the habit fizzled out.

Grandfather had always taught me to pray before eating so I was not surprised when Grandfather ordered me to lead the prayer. "Dear Lord God, thank you for this day when we helped many people. Thank you for the knowledge that we have to use in helping people who are in dire need of our services. Thank you for the food that is now on our table that will fill us up before finally rest. May the people who are now in their houses have enough food to fill their bellies? Amen–“

I said and took some toast on my plate, and served everyone the juice. “Let's pray first,” Rebecca said just when Albert was about to put two toast in his mouth. “Yeah, okay” he placed the toast back and we joined our hands together to pray. “LORD, we thank you for providing food for us today. We ask that you bless this food and let it be a source of nourishment to our body and we ask that you provide for those who have nothing to eat. Amen,'' Becca prayed. “Amen,” we chorused and began eating.

"May the peace of Christ be with you. I didn't answer, and I didn't smile, I kept quiet and opened my mouth so that he could put the small rounded and edible shape on my tongue. The taste was worse than I remembered and the flour stuck to the roof of my mouth, causing me to choke. I didn't know if it was a Divine revolt because I dared to chew the body of Christ, or if I was simply no longer used to dealing with Catholic beliefs. Anyway, I walked away, controlling the cough, and occupied a place on the first benches in front of the altar. The wood popped a little bit when I sat on the tip, because the bench was full of anxious people who held thirds in their hands. I was starting to feel out

I could see her salivating, evidence that she really loved the food. I was worried, but I couldn't let that baffle me. "Dear, could you say a prayer for us?" I asked Gerrard, placing my palm on his. He sat next to me, so it was easier for my hands to get to his. He sighed. Then nodded. We all bowed our heads and closed our eyes. "Bless us, O Lord, and these thy gifts which we are about to receive from thy bounty through Christ our Lord. Amen." Everybody responded saying Amen.

I sauntered into the quaint little store on the corner, its bell chiming cheerfully as I pushed the door open. The aroma of freshly baked croissants wafted through the air, instantly wrapping me in a warm, buttery embrace. I grinned, feeling victorious in my choice of the day's treat – two fragrant croissants that could rival the Eiffel Tower in their magnificence.

"She cannot eat my fortune cookie. Not only will she fail to get pregnant, but something terrible will happen. I’m refusing her for everyone’s sake." As for what that terrible thing was, I refused to say. Mara suddenly dropped to her knees again, trembling with emotion. "Rainie, please. I don’t know why you hate me so much, but your fortune cookie is the only thing in this world that can help me get pregnant. I’m begging you. Please, will that be enough?" She knelt before me, slapping herself menially. I didn’t react. I just stood there, letting her keep going until she finally collapsed and lost consciousness.

'Please, don't finish it,' I internally prayed. He drank it past halfway, then he stopped and covered it with its lid again. "Care for some?" He unexpectedly asked me with a charming smile. Yes. That should have been my answer. But then a thought came. What if he sees you as a cheap, easy woman? So I shook my head. I wanted to hold on to the belief that the elevator would be back to normal in several minutes at most. But...I was wrong. Terribly wrong. "Sorry, um, how long have we been stuck in here," I asked the man.

People passed by, nurses came and went with brisk, efficient steps, yet for me the world had narrowed to a single door — the one through which Alice had disappeared. I was not a man who prayed. I never had been. My relationship with God had always been quieter than devout, built more on respect than on requests. But in that cold chair, with my heart beating wildly out of rhythm, I realized my lips were moving in a prayer that followed no script. I didn’t ask for wealth. I didn’t ask for justice. I didn’t ask for victory. I asked only that she be safe. That they be safe. That all three of them come back to me.