Lives Lived by Melanie Watson

Author:Melanie Watson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Braylee Parkinson

9

. Chapter: Detroit

It was hard but somehow, they succeeded in escaping the beast. The city lay in turmoil and distress just outside of the gates of St. Cecelia’s. Five paces in any direction placed you in a bullet riddled war zone. Death was more arbitrary than usual, snatching an abundance of young life from the urban streets.

The nuns and priest moved cautiously through the shattered streets attempting to shield the children from reality. They knew that there was hope in shelter. If they could save 250 children then they would do that. It would be nice to save them all but one or a few were better than none. In the early 1980’s the house directly across the street from St. Cecelia was torn down and in the demolition of the structure a small body was found. The little girl had been murdered and dumped in the basement like unwanted clothing. Her killer was never found.

By the mid 1980’s it was obvious that St. Cecilia needed a little bit more than prayers to protect itself and the children that attended it from the declining neighborhood. A fence was put up with a gate that locked. The parking lot that served as a playground was isolated from the crumbling houses and growing drug problems that existed just outside of the school grounds. Inside of that fence children played without caution. Although the black concrete looked like a parking lot to those that did not play on it, the children of St. Cecila found their fun. To them it was a playground filled with adventure and opportunity. If they did not play football they would jump rope. If they did not jump rope they would tell stories.

Detroit would be named the murder capital a few times in the 1980’s and it would burn every Devil’s Night. This type of violence would become a part of the city’s fabric. The public school system would gradually become completely incompetent and the housing market would bottom out long before the rest of the country was in that stage. However, with all of that strife, even with the dwindling enrollment numbers, St. Cecelia would keep its children save.

Most of the children that attended St. Cecelia School were not Catholic, in fact the vast majority was protestant. Still, there were trips to the beautiful St. Cecila Cathedral that sat next to the rectory. The teachers would lead their classes, often times hand in hand to the church. Inside lessons of Catholicism were taught along side morality that could be applied in any setting. Some listened. Some lived by the messages. And yet others, like Gabrielle Smith, questioned what was being taught. Sitting in the pew next to Ian Gabrielle would feel her head slide back. Her eyes would run over the Latin written around the dome of the church.

“What do you think it says?” Ian would whisper.

“It doesn’t matter. All that matters is what it means.”

“What does it mean?”

“Look at the angels. Look at how peaceful they look.

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