Chapter 2

This story was originally written in my native language and translated into English with the assistance of AI. If you notice any errors or awkward phrasing, please let me know in the comments so I can fix them.
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The morning sun streamed through the vast windows, flooding the dazzlingly white temple office with brilliant light. Samuel sat at a massive oak desk, sorting through mountains of paperwork. A year ago, he never would have imagined that the duties of a temple elder involved such a staggering number of records: reports on donations, attendance logs, welfare files for single-parent families, baptism counts, procurement lists for school supplies... The door creaked open, and Eliah entered—a man in his fifties with chestnut hair and dark eyes that rested on Samuel with paternal warmth.
“Eliah... I was just about to come looking for you,” the young man said, lifting his head from the documents.
“How is the work progressing?”
“I’ve been reviewing the preparations for the Day of Abundance. Everything is on track; this year's harvest has been magnificent, so nearly every family will be contributing to the communal feast. Some brothers and sisters have already volunteered to handle the music and dancing. I don’t foresee any issues—there is no shortage of talent in our congregation. The rehearsals for our theater troupe are also in full swing. They mentioned they want to perform the story of Samdan and Deliva this year.”
“A fine choice,” Eliah remarked, thoughtfully scratching his chin. “A tragic tale, certainly, but a cautionary one. But tell me, what is troubling you?”
Samuel let out a heavy sigh, resting his forehead against his folded hands.
“I may still be young myself, but... I haven't the slightest clue what young children enjoy these days. During the last Day of Grace, I had this feeling... Yes, the adults and the youth were having a wonderful time, but I saw how difficult it was for the mothers with toddlers. The little ones kept scattering in every direction because they grew bored so quickly. Instead of enjoying the fellowship and the program, their mothers were occupied solely with fishing them out of the crowd.”
Samuel cast a pleading look at the elder.
“They sat with their parents during the play, but as soon as it ended, neither the music, nor the dancing, nor the treats could hold their interest. They just snatched cookies from the tables and bolted into the crowd, nearly knocking the townsfolk off their feet!” Samuel exclaimed, his fist thumping the desk in frustration.
Eliah let out a laugh.
“Children... what can you do? You were exactly the same, I remember it well. But if you truly wish to make the festival joyous for the littlest ones, you’ll hardly find the answer by sifting through reports written by adults and old men.”
He decisively gathered the stack of papers scattered across Samuel’s desk and moved them to a shelf.
“An elder can never understand his flock if he doesn't give personal attention to every single lamb.”
Samuel stood up with renewed resolve, threw on his white frock coat trimmed with gold thread, and headed for the door.
“They say two heads are better than one. I’ll head to the square immediately. Thank you!”
Eliah simply shook his head, smiling as the young man’s figure vanished into the hallway.
“So attentive to everyone, and so zealous... Bringing him here was the right decision. He is needed here far more. A true blessing to us all.”
Samuel approached the bustling town square—a cacophony of voices, the vibrant bouquets of flower girls, the scent of freshly baked bread, children’s laughter, and the stench of manure mingled into a peculiar cocktail. The young man approached a group of playing children and caught a stray ball.
“Hey, mind if I join you?” he asked with a beaming smile.
“Bwother Samuel, awen’t you scawed of gettin’ messy? You look so... fancy,” one of the toddlers murmured, eyeing him suspiciously from head to toe.
“Oh, this?” Samuel faltered slightly, scratching the back of his head. “It’s nothing, it’ll wash out! I recently bought some wonderful soap from your mother. If you soak the clothes in it, every spot vanishes by the next day.”
“Well o’couwse! My mommy is a total peefeshnal at that!” the boy declared proudly.
“A what-what?” the other children giggled in unison.
“Arno, it’s not 'peefeshnal,' it’s pro-fesh-on-al,” a girl with a blonde ponytail said, wiping a stray tear of laughter from her eye.
“By the way, who remembers what’s happening in our town in a month?” Samuel asked, pivoting the subject.
“The Day of Abundance!” the children shouted together.
“And what will be there?” He winked.
“Sweets!!! Candy!!! The theater!!!”
Seeing their excitement for the festival, the young man smiled gently and ruffled their hair.
“Brother Samuel, what will the play be about this year?” a girl with pigtails asked.
“Hasn't anyone told you yet?”
“I know, I know! It’s the story of Samdan and Deliva!” shouted a boy with dark skin and curly black hair.
“Exactly! Who has heard that story before?” Samuel asked, encouraged by their interest.
“I have! Samdan broke the rule and listened to Deliva!” the girl with the ponytail announced.
“Yes, and he ate a poisoned apple and started seeing monsters everywhere!” the one with pigtails added.
“Well done. It’s clear you’ve been listening closely in church,” Samuel praised them.
“Is Deliva a witch?” the brown-eyed boy asked seriously.
“A witch? Well, you could say that,” the elder replied, taken aback.
“Then will the witch watch the play about herself during the festival?”
“No, Deliva died many years ago. She cannot come to our festival.”
“Are there many witches in the world? Do they know each other? Did Deliva have children?” The boy’s eyes shone with the hope that someone could finally answer the questions about witches.
“Hush!” the dark-haired boy hissed at him. “Don’t talk about such things out loud!”
The little boy paused to think, and before Samuel could gather his thoughts to respond, he said:
“So, when the witch said I could talk to her about things you aren't allowed to say out loud... did she mean talking about witches?”
Samuel knelt down and looked the child in the eye, gazing up at him from below.
“Where did you encounter her?”
“Here, at the market. She was buying flour this morning.”
“And how did you know she was a witch?”
“My mama told me.”
“Perhaps your mother was just upset and called her that in anger?”
“But Mama wasn't angry. She was just very, very scared...”
Samuel stood up, brushing the dirt from his snow-white trousers. His right knee had landed in the remains of some crushed fruit, leaving a rot-colored stain on the fabric.
“Don’t worry,” he said, looking at the boy with a reassuring smile. “I will find this witch myself and speak with her.”
“Take care of yourself, brother Samuel,” the girl with pigtails said, her voice a mix of sympathy, fear, and respect.
“I will simply see if she is dangerous. Perhaps it is all just a misunderstanding. If she truly has ill intentions, I will warn everyone. Evil can never triumph over good as long as we keep our hearts pure from dark thoughts.”
“Pwotect youw tummy too, not just youw heawt! Don't eat the wich appwes!” Arno nearly screamed.
“I won't, I promise!” Samuel called back as he walked away. Only after leaving the square did he realize he still hadn't found out what the children actually wanted for the festival—thoughts of the witch had completely consumed his mind.