Hey again, It's… me! Yeah!
Now that we're introduced, let us move forward is my conquest to rule the world. Really, no. But I will move forward in the continuation of N.E.W.! Whoo-hoo!
Now, I don't want a bunch of angry people on my case, so I'll go ahead and warn you. This chapter contains the belief's of a Christian. I ask that you do not flame me because of this, because of my beliefs. Carry on.
Fang's POV
"Max, how do you tie a tie, again?" I shout, grimacing into the mirror.
Her reply comes instantly, "How the hell am I supposed to know?" A pause, then, "Ask Ash."
"What did you do?" My son asks, coming in on cue. I shrug and turn to him, letting him guide me through the process one more time.
I sigh when he's finished. This whole outfit makes me feel out of character. I can't even wear my usual all black ensemble. Instead, I am being forced to be seen in a red shirt, tucked into my 'trousers'. I mean, come on! Since when to I tuck in my shirts, and where did I find a red one to begin with? Max claims to have randomly found the shirt and the tie in her closet, but I have my suspicions as to whose clothes they may be. But no matter whose they are, the shirt is still a little too small and the tie a little too short. God, help me now.
Out of curiosity, I look to Ash. He seems perfectly at home in his "Sunday best". The khaki and pink he is wearing kind of says preppy rich boy, but all in all he doesn't look half bad. The pink shirt collar is up, the first few buttons undone and showing a small peek of white t-shirt underneath.
"What?" He asks to my stare.
"You look good." He simply nods and looks away.
Max enters the room and says brightly, "You both look good." But sadly, I am not focused on her words. I'm focused on the way her hips hug the skirt she is wearing. I know what you are thinking, Max in a skirt? That little improbability is courtesy of Ash. I still don't have a clue as to how he got Max in something so… unlike herself.
I see Max's face flush as my eyes drift upward, examining this new side of her. The elegance and simplicity of a black skirt and a white button-down makes me crazy. She looks… amazing. Stunning. I'm speechless.
Ash, on the other hand, has a different opinion.
"Something is off, something that needs changing. Hmm…" He says, circling Max. It's obvious how tense Ash is making her.
He snaps his fingers, "Your hair! That's it!"
"What's wrong with my hair. I like the way it looks." She clarifies, suspicious of the reply.
"The ponytail. It needs to go. Let your hair loose, Max." Ash insists. Still, Max is hesitant.
Sighing impatiently, Ash grabs a hold of Max's hair and yanks. He grins like a mad man as his mom's hair dangles into place.
Again, I am speechless. My wide eyed expression irritates Max.
She barks, "Why are you staring?"
"You look… beautiful." I answer and blush. Immediately, I am ashamed of myself. But how can I not feel this way? She looks so simply… vibrant! It amazes me how she can pull off something so plain. Maybe the way her brown hair flows neatly down her back has something to do with the this new conclusion. After-all, I didn't get the same affect when her hair was up.
"Well, let's get going. Don't want to be late." Ash says, breaking the heavy silence, "And Max, don't wear those tennis shoes. You aren't running for your life."
At that moment, Max and I look at each other. "We aren't running for our lives this very second," we say in an unspoken agreement, "but we may be later."
Max stumbles her way from the front seat upon arrival at the nearby church. Her heels are a size too small and an inch too high for her liking. No matter how amazing the combination of white and blue makes her look, it does not cover the fact that she has no balance whatsoever. I end up saving her from nasty falls numerous times before we even reach the steps leading inside.
With my arms fashioned securely around her waist, we manage to make the trek indoors without incident. All is good, until we find ourselves wandering to a back pew.
It seems as though the coolness of the March day is forgotten the moment we step a foot in the door. The AC feels like is it on full blast, despite the temperature, and Max is shivering next to me. I resolve to tighten my grip on her even farther, and am happy to feel her shaking hand grasp my unwavering one.
Not until the preacher makes his way up to the podium, does it occur to me that Max may not be cold as much as nervous and claustrophobic. I look to Ash for confirmation, but he is already standing and singing the hymns along with the rest of the congregation. It must be nice to feel so comfortable in a place so large and so packed with unknown faces.
After the congregation is seated, 5 small children climb onto the stage. They cannot be more than 6 or 7, singing Jesus Loves Me in front of the entire church audience.
"Jesus loves me, this I know. For the bible tells me so. Little ones to him belong, they are weak but he is strong. Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me, the bible tells me so."
For whatever reason, I am struck by these words, sung so clearly by such little children. But surely, this hymn does not pertain to Max and I. How could Jesus love freaks of nature like us?
After a few more songs, the pastor takes the stage again.
"Welcome, all of God's people!" His voice booms, "We are gathered here today, to remember what Jesus did for all of our sins!
"On the first Christmas, God sent his only son Jesus down to earth. He was born onto the virgin Mary. But it's not Christmas, and this is not why we are here, though this is where it all began.
"God sent his only son to earth on December 25th. Why? I'll tell you why. Jesus was to be sacrificed for our sins. He was to be killed for our sins, so that we can have an eternal life in heaven. As a great many of you know, John 3:16 in the bible states, 'For God so loved the world, that he gave his one and only son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.'
"Why would God do that? Why would he sacrifice his one and only son, for us? For people not even born into existence yet? Why would he give his son so that we can have eternal life? Why?
"He sacrificed Jesus for one reason, and one reason alone. He did it because he loves each and every one of us that much. He loves us so much that he will look past all of the sins we have committed, not matter how small or large they may be. He loves us that much. The bible tells us that all you have to do to earn eternal life is to profess your faith to Jesus Christ. Now, how do you do that? You pray. You read your bible. You believe that God is good and that he truly did send his son for you."
Ash's head is bowed in prayer at this point, and Max's eyes are closed in silent concentration. I am awestruck. Did God really sacrifice his only son for my sins? I cannot imagine sacrificing Ash for any one person. Yet God gave his only son for everyone. Everyone. What a level of love that must be.
The pastor goes on to talk about Jesus dying on the cross, and rising from the dead 3 days later. He speaks of forgiveness of sins and God's unconditional love. I am so moved, I cannot help but jot down what he is saying. I am still struck by God's love, and his son's commitment to dying for my sins; for someone like me. It;s unbelievable.
Later that afternoon, I sit down with the guitar that I "borrowed" many years ago and scribble a few words onto an old music sheet. I've been working on a certain song for a while, and for some reason I had renewed hopes of finishing it.
God I'm down here on my knees 'cause I have no where left to fall, I wrote and quickly erased. It's not good enough.
Ash pokes his head in just then.
"I'm going for a fly."
"That's fine. Just, um, let Max know."
"I'll leave her a note," he agrees.
Laughing ruefully, I counter, "Call her phone and tell her. She'll answer… she's just at the grocery store." Ash stared for various moments. I sigh and added, "Max is… paranoid about opening letters now a days."
"Oh," is all he says before he leaves the room again.
I mutter, "Crazy kid," and set my guitar down again. The urge to write is gone now that I had been interrupted.
I flop down onto the bed and glance around. A small blue notebook-like object quickly catches my eye. It is buried under a pile of clothes and old papers so that just the corner stuck out, but it is enough to notice. Somewhere deep down inside, I knew I was compelled to sit and write in Max's room for some reason.
As I remove the blue book from it's place, I realize that it was not a notebook or a journal at all. No, it was a sort of picture book.
Many of the pictures I recognize immediately. The flock playing in a mud puddle at the E shaped house, Max holding the first thing she ever tried to cook on her own. Somehow, the macaroni and cheese resembled a black hockey puck. Max didn't look too happy.
I smile as I look through the photos, laughing at each memory. Some were of individual people, some of all of us… a few of Max and I. Not until I reach the pictures of Dylan, do I get that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
There are pictures of just him, pictures of the 7 of us, pictures of the flock as 6 again. The pictures that gave me the worst sinking feeling happened to be those of just Dylan and Max.
In a few they are gazing at each other with their hands intertwined, others are taken in moments of passionate kisses that they shared. The sinking feeling is now replaced with anger and rage as I look upon the first few pictures of Dylan on one knee; of Max accepting his proposal.
Something inside of me snaps when I recognize the shirt and tie Dylan is wearing in these pictures. Without thinking, I rip the tie from my neck and the shirt from my back as my eyes burn holes into the similar pieces of cloth in the photos. In rage, I flip through the remaining pictures… the ones of the ring that then belonged to Max. The pictures of the inscription on the inside of said ring.
We've known each other a year, and yet you've planted yourself in my heart forever. I love you Max. Forever yours-Dylan.
Beyond rage and sanity, I continue to flip the pages, causing huge rips to form. I pass pictures of Max on her wedding day, I don't stop to even marvel at her beauty, nor do I pause long enough to really notice the familiarity of the heels she wore.
Abruptly, I stop. I slam the book closed and throw it into the window, where it lays open, revealing something hidden.
My curiosity outweighs my rage for a minute, and I discover the page to contain a letter that is old, crinkled, and tear stained. I don't really need to open it to know what it says on the inside, but I proceed to cautiously pull the letter from the envelope labeled Max.
Dear Max-
You looked beautiful today. I am going to remember how you looked forever.
I sigh to myself, having read enough. She kept this letter 20 years and probably looked back on it countless times.
I refold the letter, sudden tears flowing to my eyes. Me in all of my stupidity, I had to leave her. I had to find this memory again. She should have burned the damn thing. I should burn it myself, right now.
With hot tears streaming down my cheeks, I pull my guitar into my lap, strum a few cords, and proceed to write the lyrics to the song that I am finally 100% determined to finish.
The final draft of the song that I call "The Man I Want To Be" took hours to finish. Before I really have time to let at my song sink in, I strum the cords and sing the music, determined for the melody to work with the words.
God, I'm down here on my knee's,
'Cause it's the last place left to fall
Begging for another chance if there's any chance at all,
That you might still be listening,
Loving and forgiving guys like me,
I've spent my whole life getting it all wrong,
And I sure could use your help,
'Cause from now on,
I launch into chorus number one:
I want to be a good man,
A do like I should man,
I want to be the kind of man the mirror likes to see,
I want to be a strong man,
An admit that I was wrong man,
God, I'm asking you to come change me,
Into the man I want to be,
I really start to get into the lyrics during the next verse:
If there's anyway for her and me to make another start,
Could you see what you can do to put some love back in her heart?
'Cause it's gonna take a miracle after all I've done to really make her see…
That I want to be a stay man,
I want to be a brave man,
I want to be the kind of man she sees in her dreams,
God, I want to be your man and I want to be her man,
God, I only hope she still believes,
In the man I want to be,
I relax into the music, going with the flow as I sing the bridge and chorus number 3:
Well I know this late at night the talk is cheap,
But Lord don't give up on me,
I want to be a giving man,
I want to really start living man,
God, I'm asking you to come change me,
Into the man I want to be…
As I strum the last few chords, I am suddenly aware of Max, standing in the doorway. Her eyes are shining with tears and for the first time, she gave me a genuine smile, one that took my breath right out of me. Hopefully she now believes in the man I want to be…
Hello again. I have a few things to say, and I'll try to make it all fairly quick.
First off, this song is called "The Man I Want To Be" by Chris Young. I do not own this song, or the Maximum Ride characters, but I felt this song fit in nicely.
Secondly, I don't know if the page breaks showed up or not, so I'm sorry if they didn't… I'm sure you were really confused if they were indeed not there.
Um, the third thing is that… the reason their going to church was so important was because it helped Fang to finish his song, and that will set up the plot a little farther after this. It'll give you a bit more Fax, so enjoy.
Lastly… I don't know exactly how I'm going to end this, or where I want to go next, but as soon as I finish N.E.W, I'm hoping to make a prequel that can stand alone or with N.E.W… so that's kind of interesting to throw out there.
Any comments? Questions? Concerns? Suggestions? If so, you know what to do. Even if not so, still… click that button that says review at the bottom of the page! Please!
You guys are awesome,
~Faxisthegreatest123~