Awhile ago my dad suggested I put up some of my writing, and today, that’s what I’m going to do! 🙂 I wrote a short story for a contest-thing over at Tessa Emily Hall’s blog (www.christiswrite.blogspot.com).
There were three things that I could’ve written about. ONe of the options was a picture of someone’s hand on it with a barcode with the word slave written under it. (I’m still not sure what that was about… unless it was supposed to be a statement on human trafficking? Or people need to get over themselves because slavery was a long time ago…) Another was just that I had to include broken glass, a tree house, and a sign in my story. The last option was where I had to include this line in my story: She knew he was coming back. He had to come back. Their very lives depended on it.
I did the one where you had to include the broken glass, the tree house, and the sign…
The broken glass crunched under my feet. I shiver as the wind blows, howling through bare trees. Even though Mom discourages me from coming up here, she doesn’t forbid it. In the tree house, with the old walls and the broken windows is where I belong. Not in our house that is slowly emptying as all of our belongings are packed up, but here in the woods where I can be free.
Two weeks ago, with one last, and very loud, fight, Dad got in the car and drove away. An hour after Dad left, Mom got a phone call. There had been an accident.
They said he didn’t suffer.
Now I come to the tree house that was ten years old. Dad and I had made it together. After I had gotten the news Dad was gone, I ran out to the tree house. The roof was gone, and the windows broken, but even messed up there was a beauty about it I hadn’t been able to find anywhere else.
Then Mom told me we were moving, just another blow to add to my beat up life. From my spot standing next to the broken window I watched as the “For Sale” sign got hammered into the frozen ground.
So much change in so little time. Would I ever have anything secure about my life again?
The wind blew again, ruffling my hair, gently stroking my cheeks, giving me a friendly reminder that God wouldn’t leave me. God will never leave me.
Anyways, so there it is. Have a good rest of the day!