Childhood Teleportation

Raoul’s Two Cents: July 4, 2025

Pepito

This is an original story from a dream this week — Raoul

In the dusty town of San Isidro, where the sun baked the cobblestones and the sea’s salty breath clung to the air, lived a boy named Pepito. Barefoot and clad in a patched shirt, he roamed the market, selling fish from a rickety cart. His voice, sharp and hopeful, called out, “Fresh fish! Caught this morning!” But his pockets stayed empty, his meals meager, and his dreams small—except for one: every Holy Week, the grand church at the town’s heart held a retreat, a sacred gathering where God’s word echoed through candlelit halls. Pepito longed to attend, but the entrance fee was a fortune he could never scrape together.

The church loomed over San Isidro, its stone walls cold and imposing, ruled by Father Burgos, a priest whose heart seemed as rigid as the iron gates. His rules were law: no running in the courtyard, no speaking out of turn, no unwashed hands touching the pews. Break one, and the consequences were swift—public shaming, lashings, or worse. The townsfolk whispered that Father Burgos’s God was one of wrath, not mercy.

One spring, as Holy Week approached, a stranger arrived in San Isidro. He was old, with a face creased like weathered parchment and eyes that held a quiet warmth. His name was Mateo, a wanderer come for the retreat. On his way to the church, he paused at Pepito’s cart, drawn by the boy’s earnest calls. They spoke—Pepito shy at first, then spilling stories of the sea, his fish, his dreams. Mateo listened, his smile soft. When Pepito admitted his longing for the retreat, Mateo reached into his worn cloak and pressed coins into the boy’s hand. “Come,” he said. “God’s word is for everyone.”

Pepito’s heart soared. Inside the church, the retreat was a revelation. Candlelight danced on the walls, hymns filled the air, and the scriptures spoke of love and redemption. For the first time, Pepito felt close to something divine, as if God Himself whispered to his soul. He sat wide-eyed, drinking in every word, unaware of Father Burgos’s gaze—narrow, suspicious, tracking the ragged boy who didn’t belong.

The retreat ended on a somber note, the villagers filing out into the twilight. As they left, Father Burgos’s voice cut through the murmurs. “Stop!” he bellowed, holding up a hand. “The sacred chalice is gone!” His eyes locked on Pepito, the outsider, the poor boy who’d dared enter his sanctuary. “Thief!” he accused, pointing. “You took it!” The crowd gasped, turning on Pepito, whose protests were drowned by their murmurs. Father Burgos’s verdict was merciless: theft of a holy relic meant stoning, a punishment from ancient times.

Pepito trembled, tears streaking down his cheeks, swearing his innocence. But the priest’s rules were ironclad, and the crowd, fearful of Burgos’s wrath, began to gather stones. Then Mateo stepped forward, his voice steady. “If you must punish someone, take me instead,” he said. “The boy is innocent.” The crowd hesitated, but Father Burgos, unyielding, agreed. Mateo was led to the square, where stones flew until he fell, silent and still.

The chalice was found the next day, misplaced in the sacristy by a careless altar boy. Whispers of guilt spread, but Father Burgos offered no apology, only a sermon on obedience.

Pepito, heartbroken, left San Isidro, carrying Mateo’s kindness and the bitter truth in his heart: rules do not make kind hearts. True compassion, he learned, comes from those who listen, who give, who sacrifice—strangers like Mateo, not priests like Burgos.

THE END

Hope you liked it. I woke up from this dream with tears in my eyes. Of course I had to clean up a lot of ambiguity (as most dreams go) but I think I captured the essence.

TGIF people! Happy Fourth of July America!

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Thanks to Colleen of Washington State

“Integrity has no need of rules.” — Albert Camus

“Integrity is telling myself the truth. And honesty is telling the truth to other people.” — Spencer Johnson

“When the whole world is silent, even one voice is powerful.” — Malala Yousafzai

“But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” — 1 Peter 2:24

JOKE OF THE WEEK

Thanks to Tom of Pasadena, California

Parting Shots

Thanks to Frank of Modesto, California

Thanks to Tom of Pasadena, CA

Thanks to Boris of Washington, DC

Thanks to Maling of New Manila, Philippines

Thanks to Lito of Anaheim, CA

Thanks to Art of Sierra Madre, CA

Good to know:

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Thanks to Norm of Encino, CA

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Thanks to Colleen of Washington State

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