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The night was dark and gloomy, heavy rain pelted the windows. Father John was sure they could break by the sheer pressure of the water. He was sat down on his knees in front of the alter, hands joined together in silent prayer, his eyes tightly shut as he prayed for the poor souls who didn't have a home to go to in such weather.
As he opened his eyes, he looked up at the alter, finishing the sign of the cross. He bowed down, deep, his head touching the carpet of the stairs before he stood up. Feeling fulfilled in knowing that now god would bring security to those who needed it most. Oh how he wished he could be more help. The church only gets donated so much money, there's not a lot he can do.
He heard a violent gush of wind, despite it being outside, he swore the chandeliers were swinging because of it. He heard constant rough and hard banging on the door to the church. Someone must be here to take cover from the storm. Quickly, he adjusted his robe as he quickly sprinted.
He opened the door, a flash of light. He shielded his eyes, flinching away, he put all his weight on one of his feet, trying to not get pushed backward by the wind, he opened his eyes, trying to see who was there.
No one.
"Hello-!" He called out. "Please-! Come inside! It's cold and gloomy out there!" No response. Who Knocked the door? He knew someone did, there was a shadowed figure through the fuzzy stained glass. He knows there was. It couldn't of been a demon or a lost soul, this church was protected with dozens of repellent spells.
He heard a small tiny sneeze, followed by crying, wailing even. Now having a sound to work with, he looked down, his heart dropped upon seeing a swaddled baby hurriedly shoved in a straw basket.
"Oh my lord-!" He wasted no time picking up the basket and slamming the church door shut. Immediately putting his hand against the babies head, he couldn't of been older than 3 months.
"Shhshhshh! It's ok son!" He tried to comfort the child. "Oh dear... You're absolutely freezing boy.." He set down the basket on one of the seats, gently lifting the baby out. "Oh no.. I don't have any clothes for you son.. let's go find you a nice warm blanket while I run you a bath..."
He brought the crying baby up to his chest as he cradled him, the crying never faltering, the babies skin was more than likely in a stinging pain due to the cold weather.
He walked over to the bathroom sink, babies don't bathe in baths. He ran the water, not too warm, but not cold either. He took off the swaddle, there were no clothes underneath, feeling colder than before, the child cried harder. "Oh dear.. let's not cry my child, you're safe within the walls of this church. No sinners like your parents who abandoned you can get you here, no demons or lost souls can touch your pure heart. You're safe here, with Father John. No need to cry anymore my boy. I don't know what I should do with you, if no one arrives at this church within the hour, I will take you in. How immature of your parents to leave you at a door step in a storm, I'll never allow their immoral behaviour to be passed onto you." Father John smiled.
Gently he lowered the crying baby into the warm water. It took a few moments, but slowly, he opened his eyes, his periwinkle eyes, he was not sobbing anymore, he was merely huffing and babbling confused and upset noises.
"There we go. That's a good boy." Father Johns lips gently curved into a smile. "Aw who would leave a young man like yourself..." he asked, gently placing his hand on the babies cheek, the hand bigger than the babies head.
"I don't have any clothes or diapers for you... I'll have to go get them in the morning, you can manage, can't you son? You're a brave boy. I know you are." Father John laughed at the babies now sleepy expression. "Awh you're still so cold... How about we get you all wrapped up in a nice thick blanket, Hm?" Father John picked up the baby, draining the water from the sink, grabbing the softest towel he could find as he gently patted him dry, too afraid to harm the child on accident.
He wrapped the swaddle around him again, it was of thin material. He lifted him through the church and into his home, his room. "Oh dear.." he looked around, nowhere suitable for a child. He laid the baby on his bed. Was he really going to have to make this baby sleep in one of the drawers-!?
"You wait here little fella! I'll sort something out..."
Yes, he did have to. Carefully he pulled out one of the drawers of his bedside table, laying it on the floor. He removed its contents, never letting his sight leave the abandoned boy. He folded up a small blanket, making a makeshift mattress, that's good enough, right...? He'll have to go shopping tomorrow, he doesn't intend on keeping this baby in a drawer for the rest of his baby days. Gently, he lifted the child again, laying him down in the drawer, placing another blanket over him.
"There we go! What a good boy you are!" Father John grinned, as he tucked the blanket underneath his arms. He looked up at the clock, it's been around 40 minutes since he was dropped off. No one was coming back for him, were they? Father John sighed.
"It's ok, I won't abandon you son." He held the child's tiny hand in his own.
"Now what should I call you.." he pondered, stroking the babies head.
"..Alexander. Your name will be Alexander, isn't that a nice name?" He smiled. But the baby did not, if anything the baby looked absolutely repulsed all of a sudden. "...You don't even understand English son, is the name that bad?" He sighed. "How about this, Alexander, BUT we can call you Zander?" Upon seeing the expression of repulse, turn into a calm sleepy look, that's when he decided, the babies name will be Alexander, but more known as: Zander.
Ok but seriously, how did the baby have the self awareness to react negatively to a name.
