Silver Tree & Crimson Flood

Here I am.

Trapped.

In a cage.

Nowhere to run.

This room,

With its gray, musty walls

Closes in on me.

And I'm afraid.

Nowhere to run.

Where can I go?

Who can set me free?

It's my own guilt that holds me here.

My own sin,

My own fault.

The Master knows,

It's my fault.

The garden,

Oh how beautiful it looked!

With golden flowers,

Silver dewdrops,

Gushing streams.

It was perfect,

A place of bliss!

But now my heart breaks.

How I long to return,

To open the gates,

To dance with leaves

And sway in the wind.

But I am here.

Here, by my own fault.

If only that tree hadn't existed.

With it's silvery fruit

Bathing in the moonlight.

That one tree,

I couldn't touch.

All other plants were mine,

All their fruit,

Every twig,

Every leaf,

They were mine.

But this tree,

It was his,

And he said,

“Do not eat!”

“Do not touch!”

“For its fruit is not for mortals!”

“You, it would surely destroy!”

But the fruit!

How sweet it looked!

Shining, there, in the moonlight.

Just one touch I thought

Wouldn't hurt.

Just to touch the skin

It would surely be divine.

And a bird there in the tree,

He twittered in a agreement.

So I touched the fruit,

Such silver fruit

That hung,

There,

Upon the magic tree.

And a light began to dance

From my fingers,

Up my arm,

Entering every pore,

It filled my heart with desire.

So I took it,

and I ate.

'Twas forbidden,

but I ate!

And a dawning broke upon me

Such as I'd never had before.

I wanted to dance and scream at once

And writhe in pure, hot pain

How something can be so

Sweet and sour,

I know I'll never fathom.

And all at once a fire flamed

And it burned deep down inside me.

It burned,

How it burned!

From my inside to my out,

And my Master heard my cry,

My shrill cry of joy and pain,

And his wrath,

It poured upon me

A storm I'd never seen.

He kicked me from the garden

And locked me in this house,

Here,

In this room.

Where I'm alone,

Where no one else can see me,

And the scars I've born till now.

Every day and every evening,

I pace this horrid room.

At first glance,

It's not such a bad place,

There's lush carpet on the floor

Flowered paper on the wall

A comfy bed

A sturdy nightstand

And a silver mirror above it.

But this mirror,

It is a curse!

For every time I pass,

I see my marred complexion,

And a glimpse into the past.

If I avoid the mirror

It's really quite a nice place,

But it's nothing like the garden!

One more item fills the room,

A blessing and a curse,

For the seed of the forbidden fruit

Has grown into a tree.

And here it is my only food,

It keeps me living,

But it's death,

For every time I eat the fruit again,

I burn and scar once more.

The joy I once received,

From biting into its flesh,

Has faded by the light-years,

And I'm left without a rest.

So I'm alone.

Here,

In this room.

With not a soul to comfort me,

Not a face to give me joy.

“There is one way,”

The Master told me.

“To fix what you've undone.”

But it's a narrow way,

I was informed,

Not one most men would take,

Another must do it for me,

Because I simply,

Just can't.

Another soul must bring me,

Some living water from a stream,

Unlock the door that blocks me,

And offer me his life.

For once he steps across the threshold,

Of my musty, little house.

And sets his eyes upon me,

Death will steal his soul.

No man would dare

To do this thing,

I know I'm stuck for good.

I couldn't bear to see one die for me,

Even if he would.

It's my shame that brought me here,

My own guilt,

My own pain.

Why should another have to bear it?

And free me from this cage?

So I'll stay here forever,

In this musty, cursed room,

I don't care,

I tell my self,

But my longing is just the same,

How I want that living water,

To heal my rotten flesh!

Time passes,

And I pace,

My toes have worn

A well-paved path

Through the lush-green carpet,

And around the silver tree.

My limbs feel limp and weary,

But I dare not go to sleep,

For hunger pains will soon awake me,

And I'll have to eat again.

There!

I feel them!

Twisting my stomach in sudden agony.

I stumble toward the tree,

One hand reaching for the fruit,

The other against my flaming belly.

If only I had that water!

But no one would ever come for ugly me.

I grasp the fruit and take a bite,

A slight shimmer eases pain.

I gobble up the silver flesh,

And fling myself upon my bed.

I feel the fire burn my skin,

And I wish that I was dead.

Oh, terrible curse!

Why must you bite so long?

When will someone come to free me?

But, I know, all hope is lost.

Living water,

Won't you come?

Let me wash now in your stream,

Must I live like this forever?

Oh, such a hopeless dream!

Knock, knock!

A pounding hits the door.

My heart beats wildly.

Could it be?

No.

It can't.

I know it can't.

Who would come for miserable me?

But,

I hear it again.

The knocking once more.

“Come in,”

I say.

But I'm sure this is a dream.

The lock,

I hear it click.

The knob,

I see it turn.

The door screeches on its hinges.

And my soul,

It wants to scream!

For this man who stands before me,

He holds no bowl, no pitcher, no jug.

Where is the living water?

Perhaps he came here by mistake.

He says my name,

And I tremble,

I shake,

And hide my face.

“Don't look at me!” I cry.

“I am ugly. I am marred!”

“My face will surely kill you!”

“Flee this horrid place!”

But I feel his hands upon my shoulders,

He forces me to look his way.

Placing his fingers on my scars,

And kissing my broken face,

He whispers.

“Child,”

“I love you!”

And I cry.

I know that voice,

I know those eyes.

He is my Master's likeness!

“What are you doing here!” I scream.

Surely he wouldn't die.

But the tree within my room,

It begins to tremble and it quakes.

Its silver branches flash like spears,

The leaves rattle in a storm.

Before my very eyes it comes to life,

And uproots its hefty trunk.

My Master turns to face the tree.

His arms spread wide in peace.

“No!” I scream.

“Stay back!”

But the tree wraps its limbs around him,

As if to steal his breath.

And he doesn't say a word,

Not one

Single

Word.

And I cry,

Here.

In this room,

Where the steely branches take his life.

They squeeze his quivering body,

And I too,

Feel like my life

Is being squeezed from me.

How could he do this?

It was all my fault!

I think perhaps the tree is done,

It's awful work at an end,

But one mighty branch breaks from the rest,

Plunging deep into my Master's side.

Blood spews down his legs,

Down the tree,

To the ground,

Where the thirsty roots soak up the spill.

But the blood,

The crimson flood,

The tree drinks,

But it is shriveling!

There must be power in the blood!

The silver leaves,

They curl and drop,

The fruit decays on shrinking limbs.

And my Master slides to the carpet,

Now stained red,

A pool of blood.

I run to his side,

And kneel beside him,

Feel his pulse and know,

He is dead.

Nothing I can do.

Sorrow racks my body,

Tears tumble down my cheeks,

They splash into the river,

Flowing from his side.

Surely this man was not a man,

But someone more.

Blood seeps through my garment,

Warm and sticky.

This life-giving substance,

Floods the entire floor.

Living Water!

Could this be?

I want to vomit,

I long to run.

But something urges me.

Wash.

You must wash!

In the crimson flow!

I stare into the sparkling river.

And it whispers,

“Love is red.”

So I wash,

In pure love.

Pure, crimson love.

I splash it on my face,

On my neck,

And on my arms.

I smear it down my whole body

'Till I'm covered,

In blood.

I walk now towards the mirror,

Trembling.

But my complexion,

It is smooth!

The scars are gone!

And I am clean!

How staining blood can wash me white as snow?

Don't ask me.

I don't know.

But it is true!

I feel a hand upon my shoulder,

And I spin,

Afraid.

But he stands there,

My Master!

Alive!

“I thought you were dead!” I cry.

“I was,” he replies.

“But how..?” I begin.

He places a finger on my lips.

“How can you doubt?”

He shushes me.

“When you have seen what love can do?”

“Believe, Child!”

“I believe!” I reply, clasping his hands.

He smiles.

A beaming smile,

With a sparkling light of gold.

It fills my soul from top to bottom.

“Now, come,” he says,

Pulling me towards the door.

“See the place I have prepared for you.”

And I walk through that door,

The one that locked me,

Here

For so long.

But now I'm free.

And I know love.

True, crimson love.

Now we walk into a garden,

Filled with rainbows of colors.

Ones I've never seen before.

Lots of flowers,

Their scent weighs heavy in the air.

A water fall,

It crashes,

But makes a joyful sound,

Against the golden rocks.

The grass is green,

Pure emerald,

Filled with life.

And there are trees,

Millions of trees,

But their fruit is red,

Like love.

Tears of joy splash down my cheeks.

But my Master wipes them all away,

Puts a song within my mouth,

And we sing,

Together.

Here.

In a garden.

Made new.

First Snow

Sorry to those who have already read this on L.A.R.K. Participating in four blogs takes up quite a bit of time, plus I'm working on a story I probably won't post on here due to it's length. If I don't post for awhile, please check out L.A.R.K and Simply Sweet Suggestions as I will probably have posted on one of them.

Two angels lay on their bellies in the clouds, peeking down at human life below. The first angel, Mike, was thick and broad shouldered. He had a very serious look upon his face. His golden eyes pierced the cloud cover below, searching. The second angel, Gabe, was smaller but shared the same twinkling eyes. A yawn escaped his mouth; and he stood, stretching his arms and wings. His gaze turned to a sleeping cherub, her golden head resting on a pillow of cloud. Chuckling to himself, Gabe grasped his own pillow and tiptoed toward the dozing Goldilocks. He raised it high before launching it at the mound of curls. The cherub let out a yelp and withdrew a tiny sword. Upon seeing Gabe, she let her flashing sword slide back into it's sheath and grasped her own pillow, a determined grin on her face. Gabe's eyes widened, and he let out a whoop, starting heaven's pillow war. Unfurling his wings, he leaped into the air, the cherub at his heels. Other angels, cherubs, and seraphs joined the fray. Giggles and laughter echoed off the clouds. Someone's pillow burst, releasing a puff of white. More giggles erupted, and soon all heaven lay beneath a powdered mess.

Mike lay motionless, ignoring the play around him. Not a single feather on his wing twitched. His eyes were fixed on the life below the clouds. Temporarily dropping out of the game, Gabe hovered to his friend's side. “Why don't you come play, Mike?”

Mike barely turned his head to look up at his friend. “We have all eternity to do things like that” He motioned towards the pillow fight. “But this...” he said, pointing towards the earth. “...is temporary. Besides, see what damage you have caused below?”

Gabe peeked through the cloud cover, eyes colliding with a world of white. The tiny flakes from their pillows frosted the ground. More flakes tumbled from the clouds, dusting the trees. “It's not so bad,” Gabe insisted. “I think it's kind of pretty!”

“Yeah, but what will they think?” This time Mike pointed towards white-covered tents where tiny faces peeked out. One bold human stepped from the safety of his home to examine. He gathered a bit of the stuff in his hands and watched it shrink in size, a pool of water in its place. His eyes widened, and he frantically waved his arms, motioning for the others to join him. Laughing, the children burst from their tents, leaving a trail of footprints wherever they went.

“See, Mike, they like -” Gabe's words were cut short when something smacked him from the clouds. Pillow in hand, Mike chuckled, watching his friend's hollering form tumble towards the earth. White flakes flew back into the air when Gabe's flailing form plopped into a snowdrift. Laughing, he shook the flakes from his wings and leaped back into the air.

Meanwhile, a young girl spotted a blur of white drop from the sky and bounce back into the air. Curious, she plodded over to investigate. Stumbling across an oddly shaped canyon in the snow, she shrieked for her father to come see. “Papa, Papa!” she giggled. “Come see what I have found!” Her father dashed to his daughter's side. “Look,” she said, grasping his hand. “A snow angel!”

Grandpa's Teddy Bear

I know this is sort of a Christmas story, but I needed something to post. I apologize to those of you who have already read it on L.A.R.K.





Rick stepped back and admired the twinkling lights and sparkling ornaments. Leah bounced up and down around the tree, clapping her hands. “It's all done, Grandpa!”

Rick watched her, amused.“Yep. I think we did a good job. What do you think?”

“It's perfect!” She continued her excited 4-year old dance, barely dodging the boxes and packing materials that littered the floor. Leah was his only granddaughter. In fact, he hadn't even known he  had a grandchild until the end of last February. Apparently his daughter had died in a car accident, and the child's father was no where to be found, leaving Rick as the last known living relative. Rick, at first, had grudgingly welcomed the little bundle of energy into his home, but eventually he couldn't help but love the little girl. He began to think of her as his second chance at being a father. Rick knew he had failed miserably with his own children. One was now dead and the other was who-knows-where. Probably in prison. It didn't help that Rick's wife had left him, but he couldn't blame her for all the times he failed as a father. Blame and guilt rested heavily upon his shoulders.

Rick shook himself out of thought just in time to see Leah dive head long over a box. The box flipped over and its contents tumbled across the carpet. The girl crashed to the floor, bringing an abrupt stop to her excitement. At first her face was crinkled up as if she were about to burst into tears, but the expression was fleeting. Her sky-blue eyes lit up with curiosity. Leah reached for a mound of brown fur that had tumbled from the box. “What's this, Grandpa?”

Rick stooped down and took the item from her chubby hands. “I'm not sure...Ooh I remember now. This was my teddy bear when I was a boy. His box must have gotten mixed up with the Christmas decorations in the attic.”

Leah's eyes widened. “You used to play with toys?”

Rick nodded. “Mmm hmm. I was a little kid just like you once.”

“Can I hold him, pretty please?” Rick handed the bear back to the expectant hands. Brow furrowed, Leah examined the barely recognizable Teddy. Patches of fur were worn off in many places. One ear was chewed up, and the other was missing completely. One eye was also missing, and an arm barely hung by a thread. Stuffing threatened to squeeze out of the rip. “He's broken grandpa!”

“He's very old, Sweetie, and he's been through a lot.”

Leah cuddled the bear as if he were a long lost treasure. “Can we fix him?”

“I'm afraid Teddy is past fixing. He's just too broken.”

The 4-year old frowned, deep in thought. Seconds later her eyes brightened again. “No he's not! I know someone who can fix him. Mr. Gary can fix anything!”

“I'm sorry, Sweetie, but even Mr. Gary wouldn't be able to fix Teddy.” Rick said as firmly as he dared, but the rest of the evening was already ruined. Leah moped around until bedtime, cuddling the poor Teddy and saying nothing to her grandpa. Rick sighed when she was finally put to bed and he slipped between his own sheets. The normally optimistic girl had a lot to learn. Some things in life weren't worth trying to fix, or just plain impossible to put back together. Like a shattered teacup... and Rick's life.

 When Rick awoke the next morning, the alarm clock read eight o'clock. He threw off the covers and hurriedly dressed, knowing a hungry 4-year old was probably waiting on him. Rick peeked into her bedroom. Only a pile of twisted blankets lay on the bed. Dolls were scattered across the blue carpet, and her dresser drawers hung open. She was elsewhere. Rick checked the kitchen and living room next, finding them both empty. Panic began to rise in his chest. He told himself to calm down. She had to be somewhere – and with Teddy. Rick hadn't seen the bear either. After a quick check of the rest of the house and yard, and then a double and triple check, Rick's panic was justified. With shaky hands, he dialed the police. He feared he may have just failed at his second chance.

After a thorough questioning from the officers, the search began. They told Rick to stay put, just in case she returned soon. He paced back and forth for hours, until he was sure he had worn a permanent trail in the carpet. Nothing made sense to him. He had found the front door unlocked, so she must have left on her own, but why? Because she was upset about the teddy bear? No, that didn't make sense. She never stayed upset that long.

Something inside himself urged him to pray, but he couldn't. No, not him. God would never listen to him. He was a failure. Rick was just as broken on the inside, as Teddy was on the out.

The phone rang, and Rick snatched it up. “Hello? Rick, this is Linda. How are you? I heard about Leah...” Rick just about hung up. He didn't feel like listening to the old woman's chatter. Although, if he didn't listen to her now, he would have to be subjected to one of her visit's later. Reluctantly, he lifted the phone back up to his ear. “Hello? Rick? Are you still there?”

“I'm here,” he grumbled.

“Oh good. I was just wondering if you would let me pray for you...” the woman continued.

“Linda,” Rick interrupted. “God doesn't care about me. Don't bother Him.”

Silence. Linda finally spoke in a quiet but firm voice. “He does care, Richard. More than you could ever imagine.”

“You don't know everything I've done.”

“You're right. I don't, but God does. He can fix your life, Rick. Ask Him.”

Rick hung up and resumed his pacing. She had to be wrong. She didn't know anything, but God did. That's why He would never pay attention to the likes of Rick.

The front door swung open, and a wild-haired little girl, dressed in a pink shirt and green pants speckled with orange flowers, skipped inside. A purple back-pack was slung over her shoulder, and her face was beaming. “Good morning, Grandpa!” Leah greeted. Rick rushed forward and gathered his granddaughter into his arms.

Only then did he notice the police officer standing in the doorway. “Where was she?” Rick asked.

The officer shrugged. “We found her skipping down Jefferson street.”

Puzzled, Rick bid the officer farewell and embraced his granddaughter once more. She squirmed out of his grip and darted toward the Christmas tree. Leah unzipped her backpack, revealing a brightly wrapped present.

“What do you have there?” Rick asked her.

Leah grinned and pulled it out. “It's your Christmas present.” Carefully, she placed it under the tree.

He raised his eyebrows. “What is it?”

“I can't tell you, Silly. It's a surprise,” the girl giggled. “You have to wait until Christmas.”

“Oh alright,” Rick huffed. He crossed his arms and scowled. Leah burst into more giggles.

Rick decided it was time to get serious. “Leah, look at me.” The little girl met his eyes. “Never leave the house again by yourself. You scared me half to death, and you could have been hurt.”

“But -” she protested.

“Never, Leah,” Rick said more sternly. Leah's fragile emotions broke through the surface, and she began to cry. The Marshmallow Grandpa that Rick was gathered her up in his arms and comforted the sobbing girl.


Soon in the hustle and bustle of Christmas time, the whole ordeal was forgotten. Rick was still curious from time to time what on earth could be in the package, but not wanting to ruin his granddaughter's excitement, he left it alone. He was just glad to have her back.

With snow on the ground and a chill in the air, Christmas morning came upon the small family. Leah, in her pink princess pajamas, did her happy dance around the Christmas tree. Rick chuckled and plunked down on the sofa. She hopped over to him, holding out the brightly wrapped packaged. “You first, Grandpa!” Rick was inclined to tell her to open hers first, but her bright-blue puppy dog eyes convinced him. Besides, he was curious. With trembling hands he tore open the paper. Nestled in the festive wrapping lay a perfect bear with two black button eyes and a blue ribbon around the neck, but it was undeniably his Teddy. Rick looked down at his beaming granddaughter. “How did you...”

“Mr. Gary can fix anything,” she declared.

“Oh...” was all Rick could manage. A flash of white drew his attention. A note was tied onto the ribbon. It simply read, “Remember, there is nothing too broken, that I can't fix.” Tears blurred his vision. An escapee dripped from his face and splashed onto the note, smearing away the word “broken.” Rick hugged Teddy and his granddaughter close and sobbed.

When Time Flies and Memories Linger - A Story of Thanksgiving

In honor of Thanksgiving, I am taking a break from the story I've been posting, and I am posting this story. Don't worry - I'll get back to the other one soon. Happy Thanksgiving!



For my wonderful big brother...

High in the branches of the ancient oak tree, Katy peered eagerly into the distance. Her brother could arrive any day, any hour, any second now. She imagined him in his seaman's attire, taking long strides down the dusty road towards home. His bag was thrown over his shoulder, and he was whistling some sailor's song. Katy could almost hear the joyous notes. She glanced hopefully at the road, but only tiny dust devils swirled around in the dirt. The only sound was that of the rustling leaves and a twittering bird on a nearby limb. Katy sighed and reluctantly climbed down the tree. Oh, how she missed Ryland! They used to do everything together, before he went off to sea. She longed for the days when they used to splash in the pond, skip through the meadows, and read in the Oak tree. He encouraged her to do the hard thing and face her fears. Now she had to face them on her own. Life just wasn't the same without him. She wished children never had to grow up and leave home; but time flew faster every day, every hour, every second, until it was zooming by at an uncontrollable rate. Responsibility became a bigger burden every passing year. Now all Katy could do was thank God for the childhood years they did have and the memories that still lingered.

As Katy dragged herself up the porch steps, Skittter, Ryland's dog, sauntered over to greet her. Katy reached down to pat Skitter's brown head. The dog whimpered, looking longingly down the road. Her big, hopeful, watery puppy eyes made Katy want to cry. “I know, Skitter. I miss him too.” She scratched the dog reassuringly behind her ears. “He'll be home soon.” But what if he wasn't? What if his ship went down in a terrible storm? What if pirates had attacked and killed him? Katy pushed the thoughts aside. Ryland would come home. He said he would. Katy gave Skitter one more pat and reached for the door handle. The smell of roasting turkey and baking apple pies drifted through the windows. Dinner would be ready soon, but Ryland wasn't there to share it.

Skitter suddenly let out an excited yelp. Her ears perked up, and she darted down the road into the setting sun, where a lone figure tromped through the dust. His strides were steady and long, and he wore a seaman's attire. A lighthearted whistle pierced the silent air. He stopped and stooped down to pet the tiny brown dog scampering to meet him. She jumped at his legs and her tail trembled with excitement. Katy's heart jumped to her throat, and she let out a scream. “Ryland!” She flew down the road, her hair blowing wildly behind her and her skirt threatening to trip her. Ryland looked up, his face streaked with the slobbery mud trails Skitter's tongue had left behind. He grinned when he met his sister's eyes and opened wide his arms to accept her into an embrace. Katy stumbled into his arms, laughing and crying. Behind her, she could hear the slam of the front door and cries of, “Ryland's home!” Soon Mama was flying out the door, tears streaming down her face and her hands and apron still covered in flour. The rest of the family tumbled out the door after her.

Shortly thereafter Katy's family gathered around the goodies at the dinner table. They held hands, bowed their heads, and Papa lifted up a prayer of thanksgiving. The meal talk mainly consisted of Ryland's tales of the sea. He no longer talked like a boy, but his words reflected a man of growing wisdom. Katy was somewhat sobered by the change, for she had missed the boy. Still, this new man inspired her to also grow and change. Life would never be same again; but Katy now knew that the change was for the better. Silently, Katy decided to embrace the change. She lifted up her own prayer of thanksgiving for the memories she had, the future ones still to be made, and the brother who created them.

Just Dipping Your Toes In

Ella stared longingly down at the water just below her dangling feet. The crystal clear water sparkled and glimmered in the afternoon sun. The summer heat caused the water to be even more inviting. Ella was tempted just to dip her toes into the calm pool, but such an act was forbidden. Father was continually warning the children of the dangers of the pools. Many pools could be found in the surrounding woods, although they seemed perfectly harmless. Father warned them that once a person had immersed him or herself in the crystal water, he or she would become trapped in its watery clutches and eventually die. It was even said that if one dared to dip a single toe into the water, mysterious watery beings would appear and tug you completely in. Father claimed that many children whom he had adopted and taken into his home, had already been lost to the pools. Ella had always believed what Father said, but now she began to question his teachings. The glassy surface of the water remained unbroken, and she could see straight to the sandy bottom. Surely it would not hurt just to stick her feet in...

“Ella!” a voice interrupted her thoughts. “Where are you?” Ella quickly pulled her feet back onto the dock and retraced her steps towards home. She didn't want anyone to discover her here. Her best friend, Hanna, met her at the cottage door. “Where have you been?” she asked. Hanna's blue eyes suspiciously examined Ella's rolled up pant legs and bare feet.

“Just in the woods,” Ella quickly responded. “It's awfully hot out, isn't it?” she said trying to redirect the topic of conversation. Hanna only nodded and turned to go inside. Ella pulled down her pant legs and followed. 

The nine other children of the home were already seated at the dining room table. Father sat at the head. They had already begun the meal. Ella and Hanna silently slid into their seats. “You're late, Ella.” Father stared at her. Ella suddenly felt naked under his gaze. She always felt that way when he looked at her sternly. He seemed to know her every thought and desire. Ella avoided his gaze.

“Sorry,” Ella mumbled, hoping he wouldn't ask where she had been. She quickly stuffed a piece of bread into her mouth.

“Have you washed?” Father asked knowingly. Ella shook her head. She got up to wash her hands, feeling all the children's eyes on her.

As the children readied for bed that night, Ella noticed three of the boys seemed excited over something. She listened carefully, hoping to find the reason for their excitement.

“You didn't!” exclaimed one boy.

“Yes, I did,” insisted the tall blond leader of the group named Tyler. “I stuck my feet all the way in!” Ella gasped. Did he mean in one of the pools? She secretly envied him.

“Did you see any water beasts?” asked the short red head.

“Nope, but I did see the most beautiful creature ever! She wanted me to play.”

“Did you?”

“No, though I told her I would come back tomorrow. You guys want to come?” 

Before the other two boys could respond, Ella stepped in. “I'll go.”

The boys' faces expressed something between shock and admiration. “Seriously?” Tyler questioned.

“Seriously.”

He grinned. “Meet us after chores at ten o'clock by the nearest pool tomorrow morning.”

Ten o'clock couldn't come fast enough for Ella. She was nervous yet excited all at once. She couldn't believe she had actually agreed to get into one of the pools. Finally ten o'clock came, and Ella met Tyler and the other boys at the nearest pool.

“Ladies first!” exclaimed Tyler.

“Maybe this isn't a good idea,” said Ella, her nerves almost getting the best of her.

“Oh come on! Just dip your toes in.”

Ella walked over to the edge of the dock and sat down. “Oh alright.” The water once again enticed her to jump in and feel the pleasure of its coolness. She cautiously dipped her toes in. Immediately an exciting sensation shot up her feet to the rest of her body. Ella laughed. It felt so good.

“See it's not so bad,” said Tyler. He and the other boys joined her. Suddenly Ella felt a playful tug on her leg. Father's warnings shot through her mind, but she pushed them aside. Ella felt another tug, and a head popped out of the water. Ella gasped. It was the most beautiful creature she had ever seen. She seemed human, yet made of water and a part of the water. Soon others popped up and began tugging on the boys' legs. They were beckoning for the children to come play. “Come on!” Tyler yelled and dove in. The other boys followed. Ella took a deep breath and did the same. The exciting sensation tickled her whole body as she hit the water. The gentle coolness of the water rushing by convinced her this was paradise. Nothing could be better. She popped up to the surface to catch her breath, but suddenly felt herself being pulled downward. She panicked and tried to escape from the clutches of the water creature that pulled her. When she could hold her breath no longer, she opened her mouth expecting to drown. Water rushed into her lungs. Ella waited for pain and death, but they never came. She slowly exhaled, and laughed. This water was breathable! Ella greedily gulped at the water. It was so sweet and refreshing! Finally Ella opened her eyes. The mysterious water being greeted her and laughed with her. She whisked back her waterfall of hair and darted downwards.

“Hey, come back!” Ella yelled and laughed some more. She swam after her, feeling more like she was flying. The boys were nowhere in sight, but she didn't care. Ella was going to enjoy herself for once.

Hours later, Ella was still enjoying herself. She still was chasing the water creature deeper into the pool. At the surface Ella had clearly seen the sandy bottom of the pool; but now that she was in the water, there was no bottom. The surface, however, did seem to move farther away every second. Ella did not let it bother her. This was too much fun. 

“Ella! Ella!” a voice called.

Ella stopped swimming. It sounded like Father's voice. Guilt swept over her.

“Ella! Ella! Come home!” he called.

Ella shrugged off the guilt and plugged her ears. She had no time for Father and his stupid rules. She was having more fun breaking them. The water being tugged on her feet again, signaling to Ella that she wanted her to play some more. Ella gratefully resumed their game of tag.

It was days later when reality finally struck Ella. Slowly Ella had wearied of the continuous game of tag, and the exciting sensation became common place. All the more frightening was the fact that she found herself trapped. The surface was no longer visible. She couldn't even tell which direction was up. Father had continued to call to her many times, but she was so used to blocking him out she could no longer hear his calls. She was convinced now that even he could not save her. Ella, weary and full of despair, just gave up. She quit swimming and chasing the water creature and closed her eyes, just wanting to die and end it all. The Water creature tugged on her. Ella didn't move. The creature tried harder, even pretending to cry; but Ella was finished. She screamed, “No! No! No! I've had enough of this. I just want to die!” Seeing that Ella meant what she said, the creature let out a low growl. Ella only cried more. “Oh, Father, you were right!” At this the creature growled more fiercely. In an instant the beautiful creature was transformed into a hideous beast. Ella screamed and frantically swam away, but the beast pursued her. He roared and bared his teeth. Spikes shot out from his back and tail, and scales covered every inch of his skin. Long claws reached out for Ella and six tongues forked out at her feet. Six glaring eyes watched her every move. The water around grew darker every second. Just as the beast was gaining on her, Ella cried out to her only hope. “Oh Father, I am so sorry! Forgive me. I want to come home!” At that moment Ella again heard her Father's voice.

“ I love you, Dear One. Take my hand. I will carry you safely home. Trust me.”

“But I can't see your hand!” Ella cried out.

“Believe, Daughter,” he whispered. “Just take my hand.”

Ella groped in the darkness and grasped what she could not see. Immediately she found herself being pulled from the dark depths. Had his hand always been there, outstretched, waiting for her to take hold? The water grew lighter, and she could see it for what it was - a bottomless grave.

When she broke through the water's surface, she felt herself being wrapped in her Father's arms. Oh how he loved her! How long had he been calling to her with hand outstretched? Ella hugged him back. “I'm so sorry, Father.”

“I forgive you, Child.”

Ella looked around. “Where are Tyler and the boys?” she questioned. Sorrow filled her Father's eyes, and Ella knew the answer.

“I must continue to call for them also,” he replied.

“May I call too?”

“Of course, Daughter. They must be saved before it is too late. There is so little time.” He wrapped his daughter in an embrace once more. Ella looked back at the pool. It still sparkled and shimmered innocently as before, beckoning her to just dip her toes in; but Ella gripped her Father's hand tighter, determined to never let go.

Tempus Fugit!

The following story I wrote for a Latin class, and although it really has no Christian point to it or anything, I decided to post it for those of you who enjoy short fiction. The story was, however, partly inspired by Paul and Barnabas' experience in Lystra in Acts 14:8-20. Please check it out. I find the story sad. The people in Lystra were so deceived, that when Paul through Jesus' power healed a cripple, they concluded that Paul and Barnabas were the gods Hermes and Zeus.


The Future: Year 2512


    Spencer, Cassie, and Anthony stared in wonder at the odd-looking vehicle in front of them. It looked like a car(minus wheels) from the 21st century, but the high-tech dashboard revealed it to be much more advanced than even modern vehicles. On the side of the machine was printed the phrase Semper Fidelis.
    “What is this thing?” Cassie finally asked.
    “A time machine,” answered Spencer as he led the other two teens closer to the machine. “My grandpa invented it.”
    “Does it really work?” asked Anthony as he ran his fingers over the frame.
    “Yep, and I've even spied on my grandpa a couple times when he tried it out. I think I could work it myself. Do you want to try it? Grandpa is out of town.”
    “Yes!” Anthony nodded his head enthusiastically.
    “I'm not so sure...” Cassie replied. “What if it's dangerous or your grandpa finds out?”
    “You're just a chicken, Cassie!” Anthony declared.
    “There is nothing to be worried about,” reassured Spencer as he climbed into the time machine. “That's why Grandpa named the machine Semper Fidelis. He believes it will always faithfully bring him back.” Cassie grudgingly followed the boys. Fear gnawed at her as Spencer started up the machine. “What year do you want to go to?” he asked.
    “Ad infinitum! To infinity!” answered Anthony excitedly.
    Spencer laughed. “I don't think it can do that.” Spencer put a date into the computer. Everything went dark except the lights on the dashboard. Then suddenly scenes from the past began to rush past the windows. Fear gripped Cassie even harder. What if the time machine landed them somewhere dangerous, i.e., the middle of a war? She shuddered as the scenes continued to rush by at an increasing speed, but then suddenly they stopped.
    “Where are we?” asked Cassie, her whole body shaking with excitement and fear. She peered out the windows. Tall buildings with elaborate columns and arcs surrounded them. The time machine had landed in the middle of a wide street. Statues and alters decorated the surroundings. People stared at them. Some of them seemed terrified, while others just stared in wonder and curiosity.
    “Don't you recognize this place? This is Ancient Rome!” declared Spencer. He opened the door to the time machine, and they all stepped out. The people crowded around them and nervously reached out to touch them and the time machine, as if they were afraid it was all a dream. They muttered among themselves in a foreign language.
    “What are they saying?” asked Anthony.
    “I'm not sure. I don't know much Latin, and I've only read it, not heard it spoken.” replied Spencer. A man pushed through the crowd excitedly, waving his arms and yelling.
    He pointed at Spencer and called out, “Mercury!” Then he pointed at Anthony and Cassie. “Apollo! Diana!”
    “Oh no! They think we're gods!” exclaimed Spencer. He began to yell at the crowd. “No! No! No! We're just people.” Anthony and Cassie joined in, but it was to no avail. Priests came out of one of the temples and began to make sacrifices upon the altars. The women began to sing and dance. A man led the kids into a house and presented them with a feast. Many people followed them and presented them with gifts of food, animals, clothing, and jewelry.
    “This isn't all that bad,” declared Anthony as he popped a juicy grape into his mouth. He had tried on a tunic and toga, and now he wore a wreath of laurel leaves on his head. He fiddled with the strings of a lyre which was one of the many gifts they had received. In truth, he made a perfect Apollo.
    “I think we should leave now,” Cassie suggested.
    “Oh come on, Cassie! Isn't this fun?” Anthony popped another grape into his mouth.
    “We should at least make sure the time machine is still where we left it,” insisted Spencer. “I don't know what these people have done to it.” Finally Anthony consented to their wishes and followed them back outdoors. People were still singing, dancing, and making sacrifices. Cassie felt sorry for all the poor cows being used for sacrifice. If only they could convince them they weren't gods.
    “Oh no!” Spencer groaned. “It's gone!” The kids frantically searched the forum, but the ever present crowds made it impossible to search well. Finally, they stopped to rest.
    “Hey, look at that!” Anthony pointed at a table of idols that a man was selling. He walked over to the table and picked up a figure with a lyre. “Is this supposed to be me? I am certain my muscles are way bigger than that.” Anthony flexed his muscles.
    “You are too full of yourself,” Cassie observed.
    Anthony stepped back to place the idol back on the table but tripped and fell head first onto it. The table toppled over, and the idols crashed to the ground.  A frightened  horse threw its rider and rushed into several other merchant booths, spilling the merchandise. Cries of fear and anger arose from the people. The man selling the idols yelled angrily at Anthony. “Deus non es!” The crowd joined in his cry and shook their fists at the kids.
    “Run!” yelled Spencer. Anthony and Cassie ran after him. The angry mob followed them. To elude the crowd, they dashed into a small nearby temple.
    “Now where do we go? They will find us soon,” panted Cassie.
    “Salvete!” whispered a voice. “Salvete!” The kids turned around to find a lady hiding behind a statue of Jupiter. She motioned for them to follow. The kids shrugged their shoulders at each other and followed her to another room in the temple. Their time machine sat safely in the center of the room, an altar before it. Apparently the people had decided to worship it also.
    “Thank you,” Cassie told the lady. The woman smiled understandingly. Suddenly, the cries of the mob could be heard in the temple.
    “Hurry, let's go!” Spencer yelled. Anthony and Cassie hopped into the time machine.
    “Vale! Pax tecum!” the woman whispered to Spencer as he followed them in.
    “Vale! Pax tecum! Farewell! Peace be with you!” Spencer called out to her. Then she was gone. The scenes began to fly by the windows as before, and suddenly they were home. The kids toppled out of the vehicle.
    “What do you think you were doing?” boomed a stern voice. Spencer's grandpa peered down at them through the ancient glasses on the end of his nose. The kids looked at each other sheepishly. “Did you enjoy your time in Rome?” He nodded towards Anthony's attire. Anthony cheeks turned scarlet. “I imagine you didn't expect me home yet. Tempus fugit! Time flies fast, doesn't it?” The kids nodded. “Now I am sure you will enjoy cleaning up my work room for me. Although I am positive time won't fly quite as fast for you as it did in Rome.”
    Spencer and Anthony moaned. Cassie gave them an “I was so right” look.
    “The cleaning supplies are in the closet. Now, I have some business I need to take care of. Make sure you are done by the time I get back.” With that said, Spencer's grandpa locked the time machine and walked out the door.

Me and My Fears

I flung myself onto my bed, buried my face in the pillow, and sobbed. Hot tears soaked my pillow. Life had been perfect until then. My last best friend had just moved away the day before, and to make matters worse, I was going to have to do something I absolutely hated. The home school group which my family participated in was having a talent show of sorts. Kids from 1st grade to 12th grade were supposed to pick one of their talents or something they had learned that school year and perform for all the parents and grandparents who would be watching. I hated getting up on stage. It was one of my worst nightmares. Sometimes I would dream that I would get up on stage and find out I was wearing mismatched socks or not even wearing clothes at all. When Shelby was still here and there was an event like this coming up, she would always encourage me. We would find something we could do together, and she would do all the talking. Now that Shelby was gone, however, I would have to face one of my greatest fears alone. I sighed, turned over onto my back, and stared at the white ceiling. A spot where water had once leaked through seemed to be staring at me with an uncaring eye. Just then, I heard doors slam and the running of feet. I heard my youngest brother Jonathan yell something at the top of his lungs, and Michael yelled angrily back. Brothers. It seemed as though they were always fighting. I needed a break. Maybe I would go to Grandma Molly's house. She would understand. After all, she always had before. I stood up and slipped on my shoes, not even bothering to untie them. Grabbing my jacket from my closet, I ran downstairs to find my Mom.
    “Mom,” I said when I found her scrubbing potatoes in front of the kitchen sink. “May I go over to Grandma's for awhile?”
    “I guess, as long as you're back for supper,” she replied. Mom turned around, smiled, and held up a potato. “We're having you're favorite.” She winked at me, and I groaned. I absolutely hated potatoes.
    “I'm going to take Lady with me,” I said as I rushed out the door, slamming it behind me. I found Lady in her fence which we had set up beside our garden. We had not planted anything yet, but we would soon. Dad said it should start warming up. I loved working in the garden and was looking forward to it. Shelby and I used to sit in the garden and eat the cherry tomatoes straight off the plant. We had been doing that for as long as I could remember. However, this summer Shelby would not be here. It was still a good memory, but right now it hurt.
    As Lady and I walked the couple blocks to Grandma's house, I went back over the events of the last couple days in my mind. I began to imagine what I would say to Grandma that would make her sympathize with me. She was really my Dad's grandma, but my brothers and I always called her “Grandma”. Everyone in town liked Grandma because of her cheery attitude. They had even given her the nickname “Merry Molly.” Grandma was a little odd with her huge glasses and bright colored clothing, but we had a lot in common. We both loved birds and dogs. Spring was our favorite time of year, and we would spend afternoons together sketching the birds and flowers in her backyard.  Laughing and telling jokes was another one of our favorite past times. Besides Shelby, Grandma was my best friend.
    When I arrived at the doorstep of her teeny white house, Grandma flung her big arms around me and gave me one of those huge bear hugs. She held me for awhile, and then stepped back to get a good look at me.
    Grandma apparently could tell I was upset. “Is something wrong, Honey?” she asked. I tried to hold back the tears as I shut the door and let Lady loose to go play with Charlie, Grandma's little Yorkie. I then nodded and threw myself back into her arms. Starting with Shelby moving away, I told my pathetic story, even exaggerating here and there.
    For once, Grandma was quiet for awhile. She sat down on the couch and then patted the cushion beside her. I sat down and asked, “Grandma, what should I do?”
    “Look at me,” Molly replied. I obeyed, hoping to find sympathy in her face. Instead, I met a kind but stern stare which made me regret coming. “Kathrine,” she said. “I understand you are upset that Shelby had to move away, and I'm sorry. However, you think the whole world has to feel sorry for you when you have to do something you are afraid of doing. Kathrine, that is selfish. There will be times in life when people and even God will ask much greater things of you, and to refuse to do them because you are afraid would be selfish. I'm not saying it is wrong to be afraid. I'm saying it is wrong not to overcome your fear.”
    I could not believe what I was hearing. “Grandma, you don't understand!” I jumped up off the couch and stormed out of the house angrily. She just did not understand. I did not deserve a rebuke like that. “She called me selfish!” I sobbed. I cried all the way home.
    The next morning I realized I had left Lady at Grandma's. There was no way I could face Grandma again, so I asked my older brother Joseph if he would walk over and get Lady for me. Luckily, he did as I wished. At lunch time, it suddenly dawned on me that there was a home school meeting that day, and to make matters worse, it was going to be at our house. I grumpily began to push my spaghetti around on my plate. After potatoes and spinach, it was probably my next least favorite. Life just seemed rather dull at the moment.

    “I'm going to show everyone this one really awesome science experiment that I did this year,” said  Dusty who sat with her legs crossed on my bed. Two other home school girls also sat on my bed. I slumped in my desk chair nearby, listening to their conversation about the talent show.
    “I hope to play some classical piece on the piano,” chimed in another girl.
    “Grace, you did that last time,” said Dusty. She brushed her red frizzy curls out of her face.
    “I know, but I can't do anything else.” Grace pushed her glasses up on her face. “Ali, Kathrine, what are you planning on doing?”
    “Well, I think I'm going to sing,” replied Ali. “My voice teacher is teaching me a song in Italian.”
    “Italian? That would be awesome!” exclaimed Dusty, using her favorite word for the tenth time that day. “What about you, Kathrine?”
    I could have just said I did not know yet or that they would find out later, but for some stupid reason I had to come up with a lie. “I'm going to sing too,” I replied. I had this really bad jealousy for Ali. With here eyes of pure blue and golden curls, she was the prettiest girl in the home school group. Everyone always liked Ali's ideas, and I guess I hoped the other girls would give me some attention too.
    “What are you going to sing?” asked Ali who did not seem to care that I had said I was doing the same thing.
    “I don't know yet,” I replied. Suddenly, a feeling of guilt swept over me. I could not really sing that well. Grandma said I had a beautiful voice, and often asked me to sing to her when I went over to her house. She had even told me I needed to take lessons. I refused. Although I truly did enjoy singing and often dreamed of becoming a famous singer, I new it was impossible with my stage fright.
    Later that night Mom came up to my room to tell me good night. I was writing all of my frustrations in my journal and did not notice her at first. “I heard you are planning on singing at the talent show,” she said. Startled, I looked up. How could she have known about that? Now there was no way I could get out of singing, unless I wanted to get into trouble. “Are you sure you can manage that?” she asked me. I nodded. “I guess if you want to try that's fine,” Mom said as she left the room. It sounded as though she did not have much faith in me, but to tell the truth, I did not have much faith in myself.
    The next day Mom asked me to run an errand for her. I reluctantly told her I would. When she told me she wanted me to take a pan of freshly baked cookies over to Grandma's, I regretted saying I would. I was still mad at Grandma, and I had no idea what I could say to her without being rude. When I reached her door, I rang the door bell and waited for Grandma to open the door. After waiting a couple of minutes, I tried again. Still she did not come to the door. I thought  maybe she had gone somewhere, but one look in the garage told me she had not. Grandma's old blue Honda was still there. I went around to the backyard to see if maybe she was taking care her flowers or refilling the bird feeders, but I could not find her anywhere. Finally, I decided that she had gone on a walk and was glad for the excuse to go home. Then suddenly it dawned on me that something could be wrong. Maybe she was hurt or sick. The thought frightened me even though I was still mad at Grandma. I tried opening the front door, but it was locked. Then I went around to the screen door out back and found it unlocked. I stuck my head through the door and called out, “Grandma?” I tried again. Still there was no answer. I set the cookies on the coffee table in the living room and peeked into the kitchen. I gasped. As fast as I could, I scrambled to the spot where Grandma lay on the floor. I tried to wake her up, but to no avail. Grabbing the phone, I immediately called for help. “This can't be happening,” I cried to myself. “It just can't!”

    During the rest of the month Grandma was in and out of the hospital. The doctor said that she had a heart attack, and since then her health had rapidly declined. I never felt so alone in my entire life, even after Shelby had moved away. It hurt to see Grandma get weaker every day. The doctors could not do anything for her, and we knew that soon we would have to say goodbye. The end of the month was Grandma's 80th birthday, and some of here friends decided to have one last party for her. On the day of the party, my family drove over to Grandma's house to prepare for the guests. Grandma seemed weaker than she ever had, but she put on a smile anyways. The party was to be mainly in her room, and Grandma gave us special directions on where to hang up the decorations and set the cake. Eventually, guests started arriving. I was surprised at how many people came. It seemed as though all of Martinsville was coming to the party. Even Ali, Grace, and Dusty came. Many of the guests were sober at first, but soon Grandma had everybody smiling and laughing.
     After having cake and ice cream, everybody crammed into Grandma's room to give her gifts. When Grandma saw the gifts, I heard her chuckle, “Here I am, getting ready to leave this earth, and all these people give me gifts. I won't be able to take a single one with me!” She laughed to herself and shook her head. After opening several, Grandma seemed to get tired. Dad asked her if she needed to save them for later, but she shook her head and continued to open presents, smiling and exclaiming over each. Finally, after opening the last present, she rested her head back on her pillow and smiled at her guests.  It was a weary smile. Guests began talking about how she needed her rest and that it was time leave. “Wait a minute,” Grandma said. She motioned for me to come sit by her on the bed. “I have one more present.” Grandma then smiled at me and asked, “Will you sing for me?” I hesitated. There was no way I could sing in front of all these people. I looked into Grandma's eyes, hoping that she would change her mind. Then her words which had angered me so much flashed through my mind. "There will be times in life when people and even God will ask much greater things of you, and to refuse to do them because you are afraid would be selfish." I finally understood what she meant, and I knew her words were true. It would be selfish for me to deny my Grandma what would probably be her last time to hear me sing. That is, at least for awhile. I smiled at my Grandma. I could do it for her. Taking a deep breath, I started singing “The Old Rugged Cross,” which was her favorite hymn. Grandma's eyes began to get teary, which made me want to cry too. My voice cracked, but I continued. I knew God wanted me to.
    The next day Grandma was in the hospital again. This time the doctors said she would not make it. My family went to the hospital to say goodbye. When it was my turn, Grandma gave me a weak smile. “I love you,” she said.
    “I love you too,” I replied. Tears rolled down my face.
    “Will you do me a favor?” she asked. I nodded. “Take voice lessons. You have a special gift, Kathrine. Don't ever be afraid to use it for the Lord.” Tired, she laid back on her pillow. She died later that night.
    The following weeks flew on by as normal, although neither I nor my family felt normal. I missed my Grandma greatly, but I knew she was in a better place. It was also then that I began to change. I started overcoming my fears. As I did this, I noticed that I became stronger and more confident in myself. I realized I could do a lot of things. One of the first things I did was talk to my Mom. I told her I had not really been planning on singing at the talent show. As expected, I was punished. I was told I couldn't drive the car for a week. Also, I was told I would have to tell the other girls I had lied and why I lied. Mom did help me find something else to do since I did not have much training in the singing area. I ended up demonstrating how to draw a gold finch, and to my surprise, many people were interested. After, the show Ali walked up to me.
    “I thought you were going to sing,” she said.
    “I lied,” I said quietly, my face turning bright red.
    “Why?”
    “I guess I've always been jealous of you and how everyone likes you.” To my surprise, Ali did not seem upset. In fact she smiled and looped her arm around mine.
    “It's alright,” she said. “Everyone makes mistakes. You really do have a good voice, though, Kathrine.”
    “My grandma always said I did,” Just saying her name hurt. I tried to smile. “I'm just kind of afraid to.”
    “I was afraid when I started singing on stage too,” said Ali “but after awhile you get used to it.”
    “Do you think your voice teacher would give me lessons?”
    Ali nodded. “Definitely!” I was relieved. It seemed that overcoming your fears was not so bad after all.
    The next week I headed over to my first voice lesson. It was a beautiful spring day, school was finally over, and Dad and I had started the garden that morning. I was nervous, so I whispered a prayer asking for strength to overcome my fear. Peace filled my heart. Grandma had seemed to think this was what God wanted me to do, and I now believed she was right. Although there were many more fears to overcome ahead of me, I could not wait to see what God had planned for me.

A Library of Choices

     Eyes wide and jaw dropped, Timothy stared in wonder at his dream-like surroundings. Shelves of books towered above him in the large circular room. A domed roof covered the ancient library. Desks and couches for lounging and studying were arranged upon the green carpeted floor. Anxious to get started, Timothy headed toward the nearest book case. Which book should he read first? He scanned the first shelves eagerly. “May I help you?” Startled, Timothy spun around in search of the owner of the voice. “May I help you?” the voice repeated. Finally Timothy saw him. A librarian stood behind an ancient oak desk examining him closely with eyes that glowed bright orange like burning hot coals. They seemed to pierce right through his body to his soul. The man's long beard and hair were stark white like an old man's, but his skin was smooth like that of a young man. His suit was also stark white. “I know the best books.” the librarian said still staring at him.
    Timothy shivered. “No, thank you. I'll find something on my own,” he replied and hurriedly picked up a book off the shelf and headed towards the side of the room farthest from the creepy librarian. He sat down at a small desk and read the cover of the book he had grabbed. It read: Advanced Calculus for the Intellectual Mind by Matt Thay Mattix and A. Rith Matick. “What on earth is calculus?” muttered Timothy.
    “You seriously aren't going to read that, are you?” questioned a teen nearby about Timothy's age. “Nobody reads that type of junk anymore,” he mocked. “It's so not exciting.” Behind the boy stood a bunch of other kids who murmured in agreement. Timothy looked at the book again. It did look kind of boring. The boy yanked it out of his hands and threw it across the room. Timothy thought for sure the librarian would yell or kick them out, but he said nothing. He only stared at him and the other kids with sorrowful eyes. The boy and his buddies laughed. “Come with us! We will show you the best books. The ones that everybody reads.” They tugged him towards a room that Timothy had not seen when he first entered the library. Rows of desks with computers were crowded into the large room. Tons of teens sat at the desks, eyes fixed on the screens.
    “These aren't books!” exclaimed Timothy.
     “No, but they are the best.” replied the boy. “Come on! Let's have some fun.” He sat down at a desk. “You have to try this game. It's so real and the best battle game ever. You can blow people to pieces and everything!” Timothy eyed the computer. A note taped on the side read,  For Research Purposes Only. He pointed it out to the boy. “Don't worry about it. The librarian doesn't seem to care. He hasn't stopped us from doing anything. We've figured out how to get onto all of the blocked websites,” the boy declared. Not wanting to receive any criticism, Timothy said nothing. He only watched and listened. True to the boy's word, the game was very realistic. Timothy's stomach churned as a man blew up and the camera zoomed in on the smoldering body pieces. It was the goriest image he had ever seen, and it disgusted him as the boy laughed in delight. Timothy knew that if he did not leave the room, he would soon lose his lunch to the green carpet. He quickly got up from his seat. “Hey, where are you going?” shouted the boy as Timothy made his escape. Timothy did not look back but headed straight for the library doors.
    “Leaving so soon?” asked the librarian. “I have not shown you the best books yet.”
    Timothy stopped and faced the librarian. “Sir, they are not following the rules on the computers.”
    “I know.” replied the librarian.
    “Why don't you do something?” Timothy asked.
    “It is their choice.” he replied. “I tell them what is best, but they do not listen. Each will eventually pay for their choices; but what about you? Will you choose what is best?”
    “But what is best?”
    “I will show you.” The librarian led Timothy to a book case that was covered in dust. He carefully selected a book, blew off the dust, and handed it him.
    “Why are these ones so dusty?” Timothy asked as he accepted the book.
     The librarian was silent for a few moments and then replied, “No one wants to read the best books. They are afraid of being mocked for their choices. In order to avoid the scorn of others they do what everyone else seems to be doing at the moment.” He motioned to the crowded computer room and then back at the circular room in which they stood. “They indulge themselves in temporary thrill and gore, abandoning the lasting wisdom that can be obtained from books such as the one you now hold in your hand. Read and learn, Son.” Timothy examined the book in his hands. The cover looked ancient but in surprisingly good shape. In bold, gold letters the title read, A Good Choice by Timothy. Startled to see his own name, he looked up questioningly at the librarian only to find the kind, glowing eyes no longer there. The library itself was no longer there either. He stood at a store counter with a lady waiting impatiently for him to place his purchase choice on the counter. One of Timothy's friends who stood behind him in line nudged him forward. Timothy stepped forward and looked at the item in his hand. An R-rated movie screamed up at him.
    “Wait a minute,” Timothy said as he rushed towards the back of the store. “I think I'll get a book instead.” His friends just stared after him in disbelief.