Terror Chains


My life was spent on a ship.  For as long as I could remember, the life on this ship was hard, very hard.  The requirements of our lives encompassed continuous movement.  Constantly moving.  Never stopping.  Every moment of our lives was spent rowing the ship.  No matter how tired we may have been or how sick we felt, rowing the ship was the orders given by the captain.

No one had ever seen the captain.  We had heard he was a ruthless fellow, beating those who question and killing those who rebelled.  Rumors had been spread that the captain was once good and pure.  The story surrounding the captain was mysterious and questionable.  How could this man once be good and pure and yet be so evil.  No one knew for sure, except that if we didn’t continue to row, the whip would make our back bleed.

Every moment of every day, the faceless beings walked up and down, cracking their whips crying, “Row you meaningless dogs!  Row!”  Those who were too weak were beaten until unconscious.  Others who refused to do their task, were first beaten and then placed into the brig, where blood curdling screams could be heard.  We heard rumors about that as well.  Death was assumed, torture guaranteed.  Some would eventually return to their task of rowing with us, while others were never to be heard from again.  Only those who had been there knew, but no one ever spoke about what they experienced down their in the chambers of death.

Those with me were family.  My father was to my right, my mother to my left.  Father was hunched over his section of the oar handle, sick and exhausted.  Mother and I continued to row hoping the faceless crew didn’t notice.  Suddenly the air behind me snapped with authority.  “Row, you meaningless dogs”, exclaimed the faceless beast.  I could then feel the air suddenly retract and then snap with the same authority.  “I said row!  What is this a sleeper?  If you don’t row, I’ll make an example out of you!” shouted the faceless beast.

Each member of the crew was faceless.  No one ever knew how they spoke or how they breathed.  No nose, no mouth, no eyes, yet they saw our every move.  Their body was that of a man, but their voice was lower pitched, raspy and toned with evil, like a serpent that could speak mans native languages.  Their whip was always drawn, their hatred always present.  They stood about seven feet tall.  They wore a simple vest and torn shorts.  Never did they wear shoes for that was a sign of inferiority.

“Father, wake up”, I whispered.

“Silence, you little puppy!  Let your father speak for himself”, exclaimed the faceless beast.

Father didn’t respond, nor did he move.  All that could be seen was a beaten man, hunched over lightly breathing.  “Father, wake up”, I screamed shaking his shoulder.

A slap was heard across the ship, but I felt the impact.  The faceless beast drew his closed hand and struck me on the back of the head.  All I could hear were the muffled cries of my mother as she screamed for help.  A ringing had interrupted all other sound and my sight was blurry and faded.  A few moments later I came to.

“Are you alright honey?” my mother asked with tear filled eyes.

I nodded acknowledging my mother’s question and subsiding here fears.  looked to my right to see where my father was.  Father was still there.  Barely rowing, sweat dripped down his body.  His clothes were drenched in sweat and blood.  He had mustered all of the strength he could find in order to stay out of the brig.  Father had been there once, but like the others, he never spoke about it.  Knowing he was here relieved my fears and nightmares.  I wanted to reach over and give him a hug but could not due to the chains we all bore.

Every slave on the ship had rusted shackles on their wrists and ankles.  Each one was connected to the other.  As I looked down, I could see my feet dirtied with soot, blood and slime.  My wrists were swollen from the incessant rowing.  No matter how much they hurt, I knew I could never stop.

Suddenly, my shackles fell.  What just happened?  I looked around and others had shackles that had fallen.  The chains that held us to the ship had fallen off and no one understood how or why. What if the faceless crew noticed the shackles had fallen?  Would we end up in the brig, the chamber of death?  Questions arose in my mind, but no answer could be held.

“Get up and leave”, whispered the voice inside my head.  Was I to move?  “Get up and leave”, the voice said a second time.  I leaned over to my father and noticed his shackles had fallen off as well.  My mother whispered, “Did you just hear that?  I was just told to get up and leave.”  She had heard the same inner voice that I just experienced.

In an instant, my father regained his strength and grabbed my shoulder.  “Let’s go”, he said to my mother and I.  We stopped rowing and stood up.  The faceless beasts continued to whip the others around us, but seemed to leave us alone.  As we left the benches we were previously chained to, a few observances came to mind.  First, there was darkness all around us.  Never had the daylight breached the thickness of night.  No stars were in the sky, no water beneath the ship.  How were we floating?  Where were we rowing to?  Nothingness appeared to be everywhere.  Hopelessness, despair, fear and trembling surrounded those still chained to the oars.

“Come toward me”, whispered the voice.  All of us looked at each other.  We all had heard it.  Where was it coming from?  “Come toward me.”

As I looked around, I saw a distant beam of white.  It was like a black canvas that had a single bead of white paint.  “There!  The voice is coming from there!” I shouted to the others.  Many others whose chains had fallen began to walk toward the white dot.  I just stood there observing my surroundings, wondering what was happening.

“If you want to live, then come to me”, exclaimed the soft voice.

What did it mean?  Of course I wanted to live.  Life was the very thing that kept me alive for so long.  Each moment that I rowed, I thought of what the possibilities were had I not been on the ship.  I desired to run with other boys my age.  I longed for a time where my mother and father smiled as I played in the park, happy and free.  Life was the very thing that kept me alive.

“If you want to live, come toward me and never look back”, said the voice.

I began to walk with my father and mother toward the dot and then realized we had left the ship.  Desiring for others to join us, I decided to turn back and see if others could be freed.  As I turned my shoulders, my father grabbed me and said, “You heard the voice, son.  Never look back.”

It was then I remembered a story that my father had told me when I was younger.  It was a story about a man and his wife who were told to leave the City of Sin.  The city had been so evil that destruction had crept toward them.  In order for them to survive, they needed to leave.  Unfortunately, the wife desired to return to the City of Sin.  She turned back and took one step when she froze into a pillar of salt.  I knew that I didn’t want to end up like that.  I acknowledged my father’s words and turned toward the white dot.

It had grown into a brilliant light, that was more beautiful than anything I had ever seen.  Peace and joy exuded from the light.  I then noticed that we no longer wore the torn, bloody clothes we had left the ship with.  We now wore robes of white, brilliant white with clean cushioned sandals.

As we walked forward, I could hear the screams of torture and death.  My curiosity desired to see what was happening, but my desire to live outweighed that option.  As the blood curdling screams continued, we entered the light until the screams could no longer be heard.  Now the brilliance, peace and joy surrounded our very being.  Finally, we had entered the promised land, happy and free.

“Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble, and he saved them from their distress.  He brought them out of darkness, the utter darkness,and broke away their chains.  Let them give thanks to the Lord for his unfailing love and his wonderful deeds for mankind.” – Psalm 107:13-15 (NIV)

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The Mara Tree


It had finally come true.  His dreams were finally happening.  John never expected his dream to own a farm would ever come true, but it was about to become a reality.  Anxiously sitting in the bank, he nervously waited for the banker to come in with the completed paperwork.  As his leg shook incessantly, he looked around, like a child waiting to see their favorite movie character.  After a few minutes, the bank official entered the small office.

“Here we are.  All documents have been finalized and you are now the proud owner of the farmland.  Congratulations John”, said the bank official.

With paperwork in hand, John gleefully walked out of the bank, singing one of his favorite songs.  As he was about to leave the bank, he stopped at the glass door, turned around and yelled, “Thank you!” to the bank official, who was smiling and waving him goodbye.

That was almost 20 years ago.  He couldn’t believe it had been that long.  Sitting in his tractor, tilling the land for planting, John had been reminiscing about times past.  Good times and bad, happy and sad times, times of great harvest and times of famine.  He had been placing himself on the emotional rollercoaster ensuring that he had traveled the right path.

As the tractor came to the last edges of his land, he turned off the engine and just sat there in the quietness.  A gentle breeze massaged his body and mind.  The sun wasn’t as strong as it could be but was warm enough to satisfy any chilled bones.  John took off his hat to wipe the sweat off of his brow.  He reached down for his thermos and poured a cup of hot coffee, black with sugar, and sat with his feet up on the edge of the tractor.

John thought to himself, “This year should be a very good year.”  However, John also knew that what he grew this year was of such significance for the next 7 years as he would start a new harvest during that time.  If the land was on his side, he could harvest enough fruit and vegetables for several thousand families.  The key to success was the crops he would plant.

The next day, John began the process of planting various fruits and vegetables.  Apple trees would take years but the return on his investment would be ten-fold.  Corn, cabbage, lettuce, tomatoes and other such vegetables, would line the interior of his land.

A few months after planting, he noted that there was a gap in the middle of his farm.  It was as if nothing was planted there.  The center of his farm appeared desolate and lifeless.  John said, “I know I planted vegetables here, so why is nothing growing?”  John didn’t understand what was going on, so he decided to investigate with some professional land surveyors.

Over the next few weeks, John met with different professional land surveyors.  They explained that on his land, if the soil was too acidic, nothing would grow there.  Some thought a mole or rabbit had settled just beneath the surface, while others told him that his seeds were bad in that area.  Unfortunately, none gave John an explanation that he could accept.  All seemed to be guesses or riddles that could not be answered.

As John contemplated the reasons for this phenomenon, a man called from the distance.  He was a slender man with a business hat and a briefcase.  He waved one hand in the air and greeted with a joy that John had never seen before.

“Greetings John.  My name is Mr. Natas and I can give you an answer to your dilemma.”

John curiously looked and remarked, “Oh you can, can you?  I have had several professionals come here only to give me nothing but guesses and stories.”

“I understand John.  This is not the first time someone has doubted me”, claimed Mr. Natas.  “But I will tell you an answer and one that I am sure you will be pleased with.”

John knew he had no choice.  He didn’t have any answers but maybe this Mr. Natas could guide him in the right direction.  “So, Mr. Natas, if I let you help, what is your fee?”

“Nothing”, Mr. Natas responded.

“Nothing?” asked John.

“Nothing.  All I ask is that you pass along whatever I give you to someone else.”

That didn’t sound difficult.  Here was someone who could give John and answer and all John had to do was pass along whatever was given to him by Mr. Natas.  John gladly responded, “I agree.”

Mr. Natas smiled and placed his briefcase on top of picnic table.  His thumbs wound the combination and unlocked the briefcase.  He opened the top and pulled out a small envelope and a piece of paper.  He placed both of the items on the table and said, “Here is a single seed of Mara fruit.  It is one of the most beautiful and best tasting fruit you have every encountered.  It doesn’t take long to harvest, nor does it take several seasons to produce.  Once you plant the seed, it will grow within a month and will produce fruit in less than three months.  All I ask is that you sign here agreeing to the terms of sharing the fruit to your friends and family.  Remember, this fruit is desirable by all once seen.  Sign here please.”

John picked up the pen, which appeared old but distinguished.  He looked into Mr. Natas’ eyes to see if there was anything that would stop him from signing.  As he peered into Mr. Natas’ eyes, John could see innocence and love.  With calmness and ease, John signed the paper and handed it to Mr. Natas.  Both John and Mr. Natas said their goodbyes.  As Mr. Natas walked away, he turned and said, “Remember, you agreed to share this fruit.  Share it well.”

John opened the envelope and saw the small seed.  It was one of the tiniest seeds he had ever seen.  Doubt started to overcome his mind.  What if Mr. Natas was wrong?  What if the seed didn’t grow?  All John knew was that if this didn’t work, his dream of continuing to be a farmer may be in jeopardy.  John cautiously planted the seed in the middle of the desolate land and hoped for the best.

A month passed by and John wanted to see where his new fruit tree was growing.  He ran out to the middle of the farm and came to the spot where he planted the seed Mr. Natas had given him.  He looked around but saw nothing.  All around him was desolation and dust.  Nothing had grown.  He had been lied to, again.

Anger welled up in John.  So much so, that he picked up a rock by his feet and hurled it with all his might toward the other crops while screaming at the top of his lungs.   Why would so many people take advantage of him?  Why would Mr. Natas have the gall to lie to him during his time of desperation?  John never understood why this happens to him.

As John wallowed in his anger and sadness, tears flowed from his eyes and hands.  As he cried wondering what he was going to do next, he noticed something unusual.  Where his tears touch the ground, a small stem grew.  Had that been there before?  Was this the famous Mara tree?  John gained his composure and stared at the tiny stem.  Thinking he just missed it, he began to jump for joy but he couldn’t stop thinking about those who ripped him off.

Days went by and the plant grew more and more.  He remembered that in a few short months he would be able to begin his harvest.  He wondered if the small tree would produce a crop like he had been previously promised by Mr. Natas.

 

Finally, the day of harvesting came.  John and his wife began the process of bringing in all of the fruits and vegetables for their market.  As John’s wife, Ella, came toward the center of the farm, she noticed how the small tree had no fruit.  She had not been pleased with John the day he told her about the tree.  She thought it was odd that someone would simply help them without a standard fee or royalty.  She shouted, “John, come here.  I need to show you something.”

John stopped his work and ran to his wife.  “What is it darling?”

“Look at this stupid tree.  What do you see?”

John looked up at the small tree and said, “I see a small tree with leaves.”

“Exactly”, she exclaimed, “No fruit.  I told you this was a bad investment.  Now what will we do?  How will we survive?  We needed this fruit to survive?”

Frustration and bitterness welled up in John’s spirit.  They had argued over this small tree for days.  Over and over again, they argued over what to do and how to do it.  Ella wanted him to build another barn in the center as it would make harvesting easier.  But John knew that if his crops didn’t produce enough this year, they might lose the farm.  Not knowing how to answer, John ignored her comments and walked away.

Suddenly, Ella turned and saw something magical.  A small piece of purple fruit hung in between the branches.  She knew it wasn’t there before.  How did it get there?  She picked the purple fruit and thought, “This looks amazing.  I wonder how it tastes?”  She knew John didn’t know about it but wanted to taste it more and more.  As she held the fruit, she could feel a sense of desire like she never felt before.  It was as if the fruit called to her.  She brought the fruit to her mouth and took a large bite.  Juices flowed from the fruit and the sides of her mouth.  The taste was unlike anything she had ever had.  Sweet, yet tangy or maybe sour.  Whatever it was, it was the most appetizing fruit she had ever tasted.  She quickly wiped off her mouth, dropped what was left and continued to harvest the crops.

 

A week later, John and Ella continued to fight over the tree and many other things.  The work on the house, the chores in the barn and even the color of paint to use inside the living room was what they argued about.  After their yelling and screaming match, they would storm out of the house and continue the harvest.

Every basket had something in it.  Vegetables and fruits came in droves.  Their stand continued to be full but not as many people stopped by to purchase goods.  It became so bad that their fruit and vegetables started to turn rancid.  It was then they started to argue about that as well.

One morning, John walked the fields trying to understand what was happening to him and Ella.  As he walked he entered the center of his farm and noted the large amount of harvestable fruit on the Mara tree.  It was then he decided to harvest the tree and give away the fruit as he had promised Mr. Natas.

He walked to all of his neighbors and even into town to give away the fruit.  As he was told, many people wanted the fruit.  They saw how desirable it was and even tried to give John money toward the fruit.  John said, “No thank you.  I promised I would give it away.  But if you would like, I have other fruits and vegetables to sell.”

No one appeared interested.  They only wanted the Mara fruit.  As Ella experienced, it was juicy with a sweet and sour taste.  As they ate more, they desired more.  John was able to give away all of the fruit he harvested.  Some began to ask for more, but when John explained that he had no more, the people began to yell and curse.  How could he tempt them with such desire?

Toward the end of the harvest season, John noticed something that made him curious.  More Mara trees had grown but not just in the center of the farm but around the rest of the crops as well.  All had fruit and all were ripe.

When John brought this observation to Ella, both Ella and John wondered how this happened.  John began to monitor the situation to see if any more trees began to sprout.  Over the next few days, John noticed that he no longer had a harvest of corn, tomatoes or other fruits or vegetables.  He only had a harvest of Mara fruit.

John decided to look at a copy of his agreement to see if he was able to sell the Mara fruit.  He dug through some papers and came across his contract.  As he read it, fear overcame his whole being.  His contract stated that the fruit had to be given away and never sold.  But what about his other crops?  Wherever the Mara trees grew, his other crops suffered and died.  How was he supposed to make a living giving away Mara fruit?

As John stood and pondered his situation, he looked up and saw a mirror.  He saw an image of a man he had never seen before.  This man was old and tired.  A man who appeared to be hungry and hopeless.  It was then he realized he was looking at himself.  He held the contract up in disbelief and spoke into the mirror, “How could you have done this?  How could you be so stupid?”  As John continued to beat himself up he suddenly noticed something in the mirror.  The signature of Mr. Natas appeared to read something else.  The “N” had a long arrow pointing down and the “S” formed the image of a serpent hissing.  What intrigued him more was the spelling of Mr. Natas’ name.  In the mirror the contract signature read, “sataN”.

It was then John realized, he had given root to Satan.  He allowed his desires to cloud his judgment.  John had allowed Satan to opportunity to destroy his goals and dreams.  He ran out of his house, screaming with ax in hand.  One after the other he chopped down every Mara tree on the farm, hoping to save his other crops.  No matter how hard he tried, more and more trees sprung out of the ground bearing the Mara fruit.

Day and night John fought with the land.  He continued to chop down tree after tree.  Pulling up saplings that looked like the Mara tree.  When the sun rose the next day, John looked over the land and noticed every crop had been uprooted except that of the Mara trees.  It was then John realized that every bitter thought and every angry action caused a Mara tree to grow.  He also realized that giving away the fruit caused more pain and suffering to him and Ella.

No more did John live his dream.  No more could John and Ella survive on the farm.  They abandoned all hopes and dreams and rode to the city in the hope of one day returning to the farm.  For now they needed to understand and learn that when the root of bitterness enters a life, it ruins not just the one person, but also others surrounding them.

 

God bless and encourage someone today.

Serpula – Prologue


The following is the prologue for a book that I am in the process of writing….Comment and let me know what you think….

      The darkness of night masked the light of terror.  The horrifying shapes in the shadows created a fear that could not be quenched.  Light shone around the door frame but the eerie shadows caused fear and pain to overcome every ounce of his being.  Mental and physical anguish became a daily battle for the soul.  The young boy didn’t understand why his life was terrifying.  Why did this have to happen to him?  Why couldn’t they just leave him alone?  Was there someone out there that could help him?  Would he ever be saved from the horrors that awaited him this night?

The shadows made different forms which created a fear inside making his body tremble.  Hidden under his bed, the boy felt he could hide from the shadows.  They wouldn’t be able to get him there.  While other children told him about monsters under the bed, this young boy knew it was his only refuge.  The monsters under the bed were no comparison to those behind his door.

As the shape-shifting shadows floated from one side to the other, the voice of horror could be heard, “Where are you?  I’m coming for you!  I will find you.”  With each and every word, the voice seemed to laugh so sinisterly that fear overwhelmed the boy.  He knew if he screamed that the shadows would find him and unexplainable horror would become his final destiny.  With every ounce of strength, the boy withheld all sounds knowing that any sound would be his demise.

Suddenly and without warning, the shadows stopped in front of his door.  Tap.  Tap.  Tap, went the door.  Tap.  Tap.  Tap.  What would happen if the shadows found him?  The door knob slowly turned.  It was as if time had been slowed down to a microsecond.  Every millimeter the door knob twisted could be understood in fear.  Should he run or should he stay hidden?  As the doorknob made its final approach, the creaking of the door began.  The sound of the rusty hinges created a screech that would terrorize any man.

As the door slowly opened, a voice from the shadows asked, “Where are you, little monster?  I will find you and you will be in trouble.  Come out now and I won’t beat you like I usually do.”

“RUN, SON, RUN!” screamed a female voice from the distance.

“Yes, son, run all you want.  I’ll still find you”, said the sinister voice from the shadows.

The young boy wanted to run, but he knew that as he had tried before, that running would only worsen his fate.  He decided to stay still and not move.  Breathing became an option that he would not allow.  Even the sound of his breath would invoke the shadow’s terror exponentially.

The shadow continued to float by inch by inch.  With every movement, it became larger and larger.  From the left to the right, the shadow moved ever so slowly.  Creeping along the side of the bed, the shadow started to overwhelm the presence of light in the room.  The boy could feel the fear approach with every movement.  He needed to stay completely still and not allow the shadow to know where he was hidden.  He had left the window open in the hopes to confuse the shadow.  That may be his only opportunity to run.  The open window may be his only savior.

“Did you escape, little monster?” asked the shadow.  Laughter filled the air but this laughter was not like children playing in a school yard.   Instead this laughter was a vibrating, slow deep laughter.  This type of laughter did not invoke joy or happiness.  It only allowed terror to fill the room.

“You are still here boy.  I can feel it.  So where or where are you this time?  Are you in the closet?  No.  You wouldn’t hide there.  I found you there the last time.  So where would you hide?  Now that you won’t come out, the punishment will be that much greater”, promised the shadow.

“Son, you must run.  Run far away!  Get out now!” cried the female voice.

“Shut up woman!  You can’t save him.  No one can.  He is mine!  I will have his body and soul!” shouted the shadow.

As the boy lay completely still, he again contemplated running but didn’t have the courage to do so.  He must stand up to the evil in his room.  He must tell the monster to go away and leave.  Was it possible that a boy his age would be able to stand up to the impossible beast?  He then remembered the nights he was caught by the shadow.  The beatings would continue until he was unconscious.  He couldn’t stand another one of those.  Just the thought of enduring the abuse caused weakness in his body.  Now, he couldn’t move due to exhaustion and fear.

The shadow continued its search.  Floating from side to side, changing shapes with every movement.  It cried out to him with an evil pleasure.  Hunting the boy down was the shadow’s only function.  Torture its only desire.  As it moved, only the creaking floor guided the boy’s eyes.  Each creak meant the shadow was near.  Every step told him where the shadow was.

Without warning, the bed was thrown into mid air.  Flying side over side, dirty linens scattered the room.  The bed frame was thrown against the wall.  The mattress toward the ceiling.  Now he was exposed.  His hiding spot had been discovered and he knew safety was nowhere to be found..

“I told you I would find you!” laughed the shadow as he grabbed the boy.  “Now you will see what happens to those who hide from me!”

The boy knew what was to come.  Would he survive the beatings or would he die?  Would death be his savior tonight from the shadow’s horrors?  Only time would tell.  As he fell unconscious, all he could hear were the blood curdling screams of the female silhouette standing in the doorway.

From the Darkness…


Coldness surrounded her without compassion.  As she opened her eyes, darkness surrounded her, like a cloth smothering life itself.  Why she felt the pressure of fear and terror, she couldn’t understand.

Around her felt cold and wet.  Sounds that placed fear in the souls of men overwhelmed her ears.  Creaking, stepping and scratching could be heard all around.  It was as if nails were carving out the walls as if trying to escape the horror.

“Why is it so dark and cold?” she asked herself.  She didn’t understand where she was or why she was there.

Her surroundings started to feel tight.  Walls closing in at a slow pace and without escape.  The floor and ceiling started to collapse around her.  Fear and terror overcame her emotions.

“Why is this happening to me?” she cried out.  “Help! Someone help me!”

The pressure from above, below and sides crushed not only her mind and soul but her body as well.  If that wasn’t bad enough, drips of water collided with her head.  One by one they smashed her head as if mocking her, torturing her, beating her into submission.

“Help”, she again cried with vigor and fear.  “Someone help me!”

Hours felt like months, days like years and yet her situation never changed.  Darkness, coldness, wetness and terror spent adequate time with her.  She fought and fought, but the more she struggled, the less she could move.  Tighter and tighter her surroundings became.  What was she to do?  How was she to escape?

“Help me, please”, she cried with less vigor and hopelessness.  “Please someone, anyone!”  However, no one ever came.  No one ever heard.

She could feel something move by her feet.  “What was that?!” she cried.  It was as if something or someone else was there, beneath her.  Back and forth, she could feel the thing moving.  “Stop it and leave me alone!”, she exclaimed.  However, the thing continued.  Creeping under her, torturing her mind, tormenting her soul.  Why wouldn’t it leave her alone?

Time passed.  How much, she could not be sure of.  It could have been days, weeks or months but she would never know.  Every moment she stood, never laying down to rest.  Sleep was being deprived by the constant dripping of water on her head.  Even if she tried, she couldn’t sleep.  Not even a short rest was possible.

Then she heard the thing again.  This time it was beside her.  Scratching past her while it passed, the thing never said a word.  “What is it you want?  Why won’t you leave me alone?”, she yelled out.  Crying and struggling to catch her breath, she wept, “Please someone, please help me.”  But no help ever came and no one heard her voice.

One day, she heard a voice say, “Now it is time…” but the rest of the words seemed to be hidden.  “Now it is time?”, she questioned in her mind.  What time?  What did the voice mean?

A few moments later she heard, “Come on out and…” but the rest of the words she couldn’t understand.  She thought to herself, “How can I come out when I cannot move?”  She struggled with the hope and anticipation of hearing the voice speak.  Suddenly, movement surrounded her.  Fear overtook her once again.  It was then she decided to act upon the voice’s words.

She began to move.  Pain took over.  Her body started to fall apart.  The more she moved, the more she felt like something tearing her apart.  Her legs ached, her arms numb.  Now what was she supposed to do?

Suddenly, the dripping water changed.  This time, the drips became a stream.  The small stream was refreshing.  As it poured down her face, she stuck out her tongue to gain some refreshment.  She drank and drank all she could.

Within a few minutes, the refreshing fluids stopped and she could instantly feel strength capture her once again.  She moved her arms and legs once again, except this time with vigor and hope.

In a single moment, she realized she could move both her legs and arms without hindrance.  She began to claw her way.  She felt the walls.  They were soft and moist.  She started to rip away at the walls.  When she realized more room was available, she decided to reach for the ceiling.  It was then she realized it was moist and soft, like the walls.  Hope turned into strength as she pounded her way through the ceiling.

Suddenly, a light peered through the ceiling, like a laser beam steadily pointing in a single direction.  “I’m almost free!”, she exclaimed.  As the light became larger, her struggle became lessened.  It was then she could feel the warmth.  It felt good.  Blanketing her, hugging her entire being.  It was then her strength turned to peace.

Finally, after days of digging and struggle, she felt a wetness overcome her.  Pounding her, beating her as if to push her back into captivity, she struggled all the more.  She refused to go back.  She refused to succumb to the pressure of the water.  “I will not go back!”, she exclaimed with anger.  Her resolve continued as the water pounded.  The warmth of the light continued while the water pushed but she would not give up.

The water stopped its beating and the light continued to nourish and provide warmth.  She enjoyed where she was but realized there was still more to do.  She began to once again to dig her way out.  She planted her feet firmly on the ground, and moved her arms once again to free herself from her confinement.

As she pushed the last of the ceiling away, she could see the source of the light.  It was a big round object in the sky.  Then the voice said, “You see, I have given you life.”

“Who are you?” she asked.

“I am your Creator.  You will give pleasure to the one whom I have given you.”, the voice said.

As she reached for the object creating the light, she tried to free her legs, however she could not.  The more she struggled, the more it took hold of her.  She cried out, “I am not free yet.  Please help me get free.”

The voice then said, “But my dear, you are free.  Your legs are to stay where they are as they will help you in your quest.  Only until you are fully grown will your legs be no longer needed.”

What did the voice mean?  She then looked around her.  It was then she noticed her arms were green.  She felt her face and it was soft.  She asked, “What am I, voice?”

The voice responded, “Your name is Rose.  You will give pleasure to the one who picks you.  Your fragrance will please the hearts and minds of men.”

She thought and thought.  Then why the struggle, why the torture?  She asked, “Why did I feel trapped and afraid?”

The voice said, “Oh Rose.  You weren’t trapped or tortured.  I placed you there.  I gave you water to help you grow.  Although you felt scared and afraid, I was watching over you, caring for you, giving you exactly what you need.”

It was then Rose felt contentment.  She understood the pain was the only way for her to experience the benefits she now had.  Warmth from the sun and nourishment from the water were the only things she needed.  The voice had given her everything she needed, even though it hurt.

Like the rose, we struggle to get out of our pains and hurts.  We cry out and no one answers.  We dig but cannot move.  Remember the Voice knows and will supply everything we need.  It is only through the struggle do we realize our worth in the arms of God.

God bless and encourage someone today.