tagRomanceBlessed are the Meek

Blessed are the Meek


This story is one that I started many years ago. And while it is pure fiction, as are all the characters mentioned; I really hope you like it. I decided to write this one in the third person due to so many requests. A very big thank you goes to Peter Murrell for his sharp editing skills so; thanks, Mate! Oh, and please don't forget to vote.



Chapter One

"We're going to have to take the baby Cesarean, Mrs. Markinson," said Doctor Harry Johns.

"Ahhhhh," screamed Jane Markinson, in childbirth. The problem was that the baby had not turned to come out head first. Instead, the child was trying to come out breach. After much struggle, Jane Markinson gave birth to a four pound, seven ounce, baby boy that she named Mason Heath Markinson Junior. Mason, or 'Mace', as he was nicknamed, was named after his father who was a United States Army Medevac Helicopter pilot. Jane, Mason's mother, had just received word two days prior to her son's birth that her husband's UH-1D Iroquois, Huey helicopter had been shot down while pulling wounded men out of the Ia Drang Valley in Vietnam, during November of 1965. And because of the fact that the aircraft was at an altitude of well over two hundred feet in the air, the chopper was brought down from ZSU fire, resulting in the deaths of everyone aboard. Due to the traumatic news of the death of her husband, Jane immediately went into labor two months before her due date; hence the reason the baby hadn't properly turned yet, and was born premature as well as under developed.



"Happy Birthday, Mace, Sweetie," said Jane Markinson, as she place a homemade chocolate cake with five candles burning atop of it, onto the table in front of her son.

"Wheeee, Mommie," replied young Mason, the sound of his little voice reflecting the smile on his face. Because he was born prematurely, Mason's little body was slight and seemingly frail. Jane had never really had any family to speak of so, when her husband was killed; his parents, Chandler and Vivian Markinson, lovingly and gladly took her and their grandson in as their own. However small Mace's little body might have been, he more than made up for it with his huge heart, even at such a young age.

As soon as the birthday cake was in set front of Mace, Chandler, or Papaw, as Mace called him, leaned down close to the boy and said, "Okay Mace, close your eyes and make a wish, little buddy." As the boy complied, Candler smiled and added, ""Now open them and blow out the candles."




"I'm sorry, Mason, but you're too small to play football. You might get seriously hurt, and that wouldn't be good, now would it?" said Coach Nathan Brice, deeply regretting having to turn away one of his favorite students.

"I understand, Coach," Mace cheerfully replied, but clearly disappointed, "Maybe next year I'll be big enough to play"

As he walked away from football tryouts with a smile on his face, Coach Brice sadly watched Mason, and then shaking his head with tears starting to form in his eyes, he looked to the heavens and silently said, "It's not fair. It's just not fair, God, that you would put the heart of a Lion into the body of a sparrow. It's just not fair." Although Mason had only known defeat in his early years, that wasn't to say that it would be that way all his life.


All throughout school Mason excelled in his studies. The reason that all of his teachers adored him was, because whenever any of his classmates were having trouble understanding their work assignments; Mason was always there to help them. He explained the work to them in a way that made it easier for them to understand.

At the beginning of each school year, teachers in whatever school Mason attended, each vied for the chance to have him as one of their students. They knew that if he, Mason, was in their class then all of their students would pass that year, and not have to be held back.

It had been that way from the time Mason was in Kindergarten until he graduated High School. And while Mason loved sports, he had always been out sized by his classmates and therefore was too small to play. However, that would all change when he reached college.


All of the students of the class of 1982 sat in their seats waiting for their names to be called out so they could walk across the stage and receive their diplomas. When Mason's name was called, he proudly walked upon the stage to the cheers and whistles of his classmates.

You see, he was never picked on by his peers when he was in school, and if anyone ever tried, one of the bigger students, or upperclassmen, were always there to take up for him, because Mason was loved by everyone who came in contact with him. When he was a freshman, the football team made him their mascot when, at a football game one Friday night; a student from the rival high school was speaking ill of their high school's team and Mason accosted him. What started as an argument escalated into a fight, and Mason got beat up pretty badly, and had to stay home from school the following week.

However, the other student had to spend ten days in the hospital in order to surgically set his leg that, through sheer strength of his own will, Mason had somehow managed to break.

His mother and grandmother scolded him openly for fighting, while his grandfather secretly cheered him on for what he'd done to the other guy. "Mace, little buddy," he chuckled, "It don't matter how bad you get beat up in a fight, as long as the other guy is worse off than you are, son."

When word of this reached the student body of his school, there were so many students who had volunteered to take Mason his missed assignments, the school staff ended up having to make each of the volunteers submit their names into a box; and then the principle would draw names from the box at random. Everyone agreed that it was the fair thing to do.



"Alright ladies and gentlemen, this is a self defense class, nothing more. If I hear of any of you using what I'm going to teach you this semester, for anything other than self defense, then you'll answer to me. Have I made myself clear?" Coach Benjamin Tyler told his freshmen students. After acknowledgement from his class, Tyler handed out the necessary forms, release forms, and lists of supplies needed for class. He looked around the room, and to Mace, he pointed at him and said, "You, what's your name?"

"Mason Markinson, sir," Mace respectfully replied.

"See me after class, if you would," said Coach Tyler.

"Yes, sir," replied Mason.

As the other students left the gym, Mason remained, wondering what it was his teacher wanted to see him about. As the last student walked out the door, Tyler made his way and stood next to Mason.

"I knew Nathan Brice when he and I served together in Vietnam," Ben sadly told him, "I also knew your father, Mason."

"Really," Mason excitedly asked, "You knew my Dad?"

"Yeah, I knew him well. He and I were in the same Helo Squadron," replied Ben, "He was one hell of a guy, Mason. He was also the bravest man I ever knew. You look a lot like him you know."

"That's what my Mom and grandparents say, too," laughed Mason.

"Look Mason," Ben quietly told him, "Nathan Brice told me that you have the heart of a Lion; and that's why I want you to call me Ben from now on, when it's just you and me. But in front of the rest of the class you gotta call me Coach Tyler, okay?"

"No sweat, Ben," Mason smiled, feeling an immediate kinship for this man who had known his father.

"I was wondering if you might want to think about taking the full Black Belt Course while you're here, Mason," Ben suggested

"I don't think my scholarship will pay for it," Mason replied, "But I'll find out if..."

"No, no, that's not what I meant," Ben interrupted, "I want to teach you myself, and it won't cost you a thing, just some time and a lot of hard work."


Mason trained as hard as he studied, and by the time he was nineteen; what he had lacked in physical height was more than made up for in body strength. While he wasn't bulky like a weight lifter, his physique became sinuously smooth, like that of a swimmer. Mason only stood five feet, seven and a half inches tall, but after training, as well as following Ben's suggestions on what his diet should consist of; Mason grew and ended up weighing in at a whopping one hundred, seventy-five pounds of not bulky, but smooth, defined, yet solid muscle tissue in just a little over a year. His flexibility came from Ben having him train with some of the gymnasts and tumblers on campus, and after hours of intensive training over the summers; Mason's flexibility knew no boundaries. He could do not only the conventional splits, but the Chinese splits as well.


Ben had kept Mason from participating in the Karate tournaments, whether they were local, or state sanctioned events; and up until Mason's junior year in college, he had never stepped onto the mat against a live opponent. It was at the beginning of that year that he unintentionally began to make his presence known on campus, and in a very big way, too.


He was twenty years old now, and on his way to English class one spring afternoon, when Mason saw a group of three guys harassing a girl that he knew from training with the gymnasts. She was very pretty and her name was Heather Winters. She had also discreetly flirted with Mason over the course of his training, but due to his lack of experience with girls; he never picked up on her signals. That's not to say she didn't stop flirting. She only did it more openly, as well as more brazenly at times when she thought no one was looking, but she and Mason were still friends. And over a period of time, he began to feel more than a "friendly" affection toward her, though he'd never let her know, for fear of spoiling the relationship he already had with her.

However, from the look on her face at that moment, she wasn't enjoying the situation she was currently in. He heard her scream, and as he looked; Mason saw Heather being pulled by the arm. He walked over to them, and after freeing Heather from the guy's grip, he casually stepped between them, and then to Heather, said, "What's going on here, Heather?"

Before she could answer, the guy who had grabbed her looked at Mason, poked him in the chest with the index finger of his right hand, and snarled, "I'll tell you what's going here, half-pint. This girl is coming with us to a party at our fraternity house, and there's nothing you can do or say about it. Got it, dickhead?"

"I don't want to go, Mace," Heather replied, clearly afraid.

Standing confidently in front of the three guys that he now recognized as football players, Mason smiled and said, "Look fellas, she doesn't want to come with you so, why don't you just leave her alone. Besides, we don't want any trouble."

"Oh, you've already made trouble by getting in my way," laughed the guy, "Now, get out of here before we pound you, little boy."

Placing Heather behind him, Mason took a non-threatening stance and growled, "Take your best shot, you stupid-assed jock."

It was over before it really started. Suffice it to say, that at the speed of light, the three guys were dispatched, left lying on the ground while holding their groins, and each one, crying like babies.


"I've never seen anything like that before in my life," Heather excitedly said, as she and Mason quickly fled before anyone saw who they were.

"Are you alright," he asked her.

"Yeah, I'm okay," she sweetly smiled, "At least I am now, anyway." And then after they were safely away, she took Mason's arm. While giving him a smiling glance, she pressed herself tightly to his side, then she batted her eyes at him and nervously asked, "Um...do you think that...um....maybe...um...you...you'd like to come to my dorm room and watch a movie on T.V. with me tonight?"

"Sure," beamed Mason, "I'd love to."

After agreeing on a time, as well as giving him directions to her dorm, Heather kissed him on the cheek, and then softly said, "Thank you, Mace, I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't been there..."


Mason nervously knocked on the door to Heather's dorm room promptly at the previously appointed time. The moment the door opened, his olfactory senses were assaulted by a mixture of perfume, baby powder with the hint of another smell he couldn't quite make out, a sweet, almost aromatic smell of something different. At first he thought it might've been perfume, but then upon taking another whiff, he realized that this was like nothing he'd ever smelled before, it was erotically warm and excitingly pungent, making his pants become tight in the crotch, eliciting a tingle in his testicles.

Waking him from his reverie, a sweet, soft voice purred; "Well, hello handsome," making him look up to see Heather wearing a pair of tight, pink terrycloth shorts and a matching tank top. It was obvious by the way her breasts moved that she was braless beneath the shirt, and it made for another, stronger pleasant tingle in Mason's pants. As she invited him in and then closed the door behind him, he was treated to an exquisite view of her ass as it danced back and forth beneath tight terrycloth while she walked.

The first thing Mason noticed about her room, was that number one; she had no room mate, and number two, against the far wall, two beds had been pushed together making one larger bed. The lights in the room were nothing more than a couple of bedside lamps being slightly brighter than your average night light. But still, there was more than enough light for Mason to be able make out the contours of Heather's ass as she crawled across the bed; inviting him next to her once she was seated. After making him take off his shoes, she pulled Mason toward her until he was lying snugly next to her.

Putting her arms around his neck, she gently kissed his lips and then purred, "Thank you again for taking up for me today. That was the bravest thing I've ever seen," then kissed him again.

He knew that he really liked this girl so, as he gently extricated himself from Heather's arms, he looked at her and said, "Look, you've been coming on strong to me since the beginning of last semester. Don't get me wrong, I really like you a lot, but you're my friend and I don't want to mess things up with you, and..." then hanging his head, "I don't think I could handle losing you as a friend."

Lifting his chin up with her index finger until he was looking into her beautiful sparkling eyes, Heather smiled and then said, "Mason, look at me," and when he finally did, she asked him, "Why do you think I've been flirting with you all semester, huh?"

"I don't know," he replied, shrugging his shoulders.

"Because I care about you, Mace," she tenderly replied, caressing his face with the palm of her hand, "I have for a long time, now."

"You could have any guy you want, Heather," Mason objected, "Why me?"

"Mason Markinson, are you trying to tell me that I have bad taste in men," she teased, playfully crossing her arms, "Or are you just ashamed to be my boyfriend?

"Well, no," he blushed, "It's just that I've never had a girlfriend before."

After gently caressing his pectoral muscles that now prominently bulged beneath his tee shirt, Heather smiled and softly purred, "You've always been such a nice guy, sweetie, and I love that about you, and I'll be real good to you if you'll let me. Besides," she grinned, "I've seen the way you look at me sometimes, Mason."

"Oh really," Mason chuckled; now feeling comfortable enough to take her hand into his, "I think you might just be hallucinating a little bit."

"Oh, you're awful," she giggled, playfully slapping his arm, "You'd better watch it, Mister." Then her expression turned serious, and as she laid her head on his shoulder; she leaned up and kissed him gently on the throat and softly told him, "I promise you that I'll never hurt you Mason."

They lay together and watched the television in her dorm room that night, as well as a number of nights after that, getting to know one another. And while the attraction between the two of them was very strong, they still wanted to take things slowly. However, neither of them ever knew that they had been destined to be together since the time before time itself.


Mason and Heather were in the gym doing some stretching exercises when in walked the same three guys who, ten days earlier, had tried to get Heather to go with them. Taking immediate notice, Mason stood up; and then taking up a defensive posture, said, "Please guys, let's not do this again. I tried to tell you once that we don't want any trouble."

"Whoa, wait, please," said the one guy who'd grabbed Heather, as he slowly backed away, "We don't want any trouble either. We came to apologize to both of you."

"Really?" asked Heather, smiling in surprise, shocked, but smiling none the less.

"Yeah, really," he said, "We were way out of line the other day, and we're very sorry."

Returning back to his normal and kind self, Mason smiled then extended his hand, and replied, "My name is Mason Markinson, and her name is Heather Winters, what's yours?"

As the two of them shook hands, the guy smiled and said, "My name is Chuck Sanders, and these two clowns behind me, are Rick Crossfield, and Shaun Powell."

"It's nice to meet you guys," Mason replied, also shaking hands with Rick and Shaun, "I only wish we could've met like this before."

"Me too," Rick chuckled, "Man....you took our asses down with one kick."

"No shit," Shaun laughed, "How did you do that? You were faster than anything I've ever seen."

"I'm really sorry about that," Mason replied, changing the subject, "I'm also sorry about calling you guys a bunch of stupid-assed jocks, too."

"If that ain't a case of the pot calling the kettle black," Chuck howled, "Then I don't know what is."

"What're you talking about?" Mason asked grinning, Heather now standing beside him smiling.

"Look, Mason," smiled Chuck, gently placing his hand on Mason's shoulder, "We're the starting defensive linebackers for the Longhorns, and I'm here to tell you now that I've, well, none of us, have ever been hit as hard as you hit us the other day. I'm also the president of Alpha Beta Epsilon fraternity, and I want to personally invite the two of you to a party that we're having at the Alpha house tonight; and it would really honor us if you two would come. Can you make it?"

"We'd love to," Mason smiled, as he gently squeezed Heather's hand, "What time?"


I've not described anyone yet so, now is as good a time as any. Mason reached the height of five foot, eight by the time he was nineteen. He had coal black hair and sky blue eyes. Like Ben Tyler had told him, he inherited his father's genius and natural good looks while he carried his mother's genteel warm heart and good sense.

Heather Winters was very beautiful and stood three inches shorter than Mason, and weighed no more than one hundred and fifteen pounds. Her body measurements were proportionate to her height with the exception of her breasts. While they were not overly large, suffice it to say they sat rather prominently on her chest. She had dark brown hair that hung to her waist and big dark brown, almost black, eyes that melted Mason's heart every time he looked into them.



As Mason knocked on the door to Heather's dorm room to pick her up for the party that night, he almost fainted the moment she opened the door. She was wearing a white mini-skirt that was that was snug but not obscenely so, with two inch black heels that made her beautiful legs seem to endlessly flow from beneath her skirt. The top she was wearing was dark blue and halter style, very tastefully showing a delightful amount of cleavage. Her hair flowed like a shiny dark river down her back, stopping just at the top of her beautifully tight little ass, not to mention the fact that her make-up had been flawlessly applied.

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byMoogPlayer© 54 comments/ 52820 views/ 90 favorites

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