A new short story

This is my newest short story! Enjoy!

Freedom

Running through the streets, jumping over piles of scraps and excrement, the night surrounding me has suddenly become pitch black in the moonless night. The air is dense.

Glancing over my shoulder, I can’t make out my oppressors, but I know they are coming; fast with determination. They seek me out like a troupe on a fox hunt.

Scaling over an old wooden rickety fence, I nearly lose my footing, but manage to land in a soft role.

I don’t dare pause to catch my breath. I can hear them slowly gaining on me. They say I’m fairly fast for a girl, but right now, I’m not sure I believe it, as I hear my enemies getting closer.

I approach the end of the fence and I must fly over it more gracefully than the last. I can’t risk a nose-dive to the wet, muddy grass.

Preparing myself for the flight, I grit my teeth and narrow my eyes as I calculate the distance between me and my opponent: the fence.

Grabbing the wooden, splintering slat, I pull myself over and for a moment, I enjoy the cool night air as I glide over the fence, only to snap back to reality as I hit the ground……on my feet.

I grin, proud of my accomplishment and continue to run down the dark street.

It is unusually dark and quiet tonight for such a large village. It’s as if all the townspeople know I’m free and are hiding, hoping that I won’t knock on their door for assistance. Well that’s the last thing on my mind. There’s no way I’m asking any of these people for help after what they’ve done to me.

In the distance, I see a dark shadow looming ahead. The tall, cold stone wall is all that lies between me and freedom. As far as I know, I am the only one who has ever tried to escape this place, but if there was someone before me, I doubt they got away without being killed first.

I glance along the base of the wall as I approach to make sure the guards aren’t there. It’s all clear.

I’ve been practicing to scale this wall since I was young, knowing that one day I would probably need to get over it. I would practice in the dead of night when I knew the guards would be gone. A few times I had almost made it. My hand had touched the ledge of the wall, catching a glimpse of the sweet air of freedom.

Tonight though, I had to make it. I think though that I have the energy and adrenaline to make it over. I’ve waiting for this night for years and tonight all of my dreams are going to come true.

Skidding to a halt at the base of the wall, I glance behind me to see a glow of torches outlining all of the weapons that follow; clubs, hoes, hatchets and even some swords.

Immediately I get to work. I grab my ropes, attached to my belt and wrap the ends around my hands. With a hook on each end, I throw one of the hooks up and over, waiting to hear a ‘clink.’ I had practiced throwing this and it had always landed where it needed to, that I had memorized the exact sound of its appropriate landing. ‘Clink.’ Right on.

After throwing both hooks and with the ends wrapped tightly around my hands, I turn to face my enemies. Suddenly, I am flooded with memories of how I got here and why my oppressors hate me so much.

I was an orphan, known widely around town as the “Rebel.” I had to survive, so I would sometimes have to steal. But there were a few families who were compassionate and would share some of the meals. One family in particular, my family, was the only family I could call my own. My family consisted of Augustus, Mary and their only son, Luke. They had let me live them and basically, adopted me as their daughter.

Because it was my nature of habit, I stole even when I was being feed, to help my family. I was a really bad person to the townspeople. I was a bully, a thief, a rebel and a murderer: my biggest crime that I didn’t actually commit.

The authorities wanted to catch me, but catch me in a crime, because they never could. I was too fast and sly for them. But my family was very prominent and if something had happened to me, Augustus would’ve done anything to free me. So the government decided to kill my family, and make it look like I had done it in anger.

So five months ago during the middle of night, I had come home after a night of small crimes to find Augustus, Mary and Luke dead…..chopped to pieces with my knife. As it all began to sink in, the authorities and neighbors arrived. I was shackled and taken away for trial.

The trial went by quickly with no flaws because the government and townspeople all wanted me in jail, so no one was testifying against my innocence. I sat through the trial in silence and in jail, in silence. For four months, I haven’t said a word, but I wasn’t much of a talker anyways. But I was slowly formulating my escape. I had known that one day I would be captured so I needed a plan to get out of jail and the rest of the plan would just fall into place. I had observed the guards, other prisoners, and when guards changed positions and prisoners were moved. I know the jail’s schedule like the back of my hand.

One day, actually today, it came time for my plan to take place. I was taken outside for a few minutes of fresh air, but I slowly made my way to the fence trying to look inconspicuous among the other prisoners. The next thing, I know, I’m scaling the fence, cutting my hands as I climb over. I land firmly on the ground, just as I hear the alarm being sounded.

Knowing that I don’t have much time, I return to my home and retrieve my emergency bag or what I like to call my ‘freedom’ bag. Sliding my leather gloves over my bloody hands, I pause in the doorway savoring this last moment. I remember a small picture that I want, that was painted a few years ago of Augustus, Mary and Luke. It’s upstairs on a small table. I fly up the stairs, snatch it and slide it into my bag as I hear the guards and neighbors come through the gate. I climb out the window and nimbly walk across the roof. I jump to the ground. I can hear my enemies realize I’ve escaped…..again and they begin to follow.

All of this flashes back to my memory in about a ten second period. I open my eyes and see my enemies. I can now see the whites of their eyes, glowing like fire in the light.

I nod my farewell, turn and begin to scale the wall. Grimacing at each pull as the rope tightens against my already injured hands. I have to make it. I hear my oppressors gasp I shock, not sure how to react. I can see the top of the wall. Almost there. I grab the top of the wall with my right hand and pull myself up with my left. I wince as pain sears through my hands and goes to my arms. Finally. I perch on the top of the wall, taking deep breaths of the air. Freedom. I have made it, after of years of waiting. Freedom. I glance back down to the imprisoned side, grin as the moon slowly appears from behind a cloud. I’m sure I look magnificent, perched on the wall with the moon glowing behind me. I look down to the freedom side and sigh. Freedom. I grab the ropes and slowly descend the wall. Freedom.

One Year Ago

     One year ago today, my Papa entered through the gates of heaven. As I sit here trying to have my quiet time, I realize I can't. The sudden rush of memories flood my mind and I can't concentrate. And then, as if God is telling me it's ok, He puts upon my heart to write about what happened the weeks leading up to his death, the day of and the funerals. I realize that I have never publicly told anyone what God taught me during that time. The only people that know would be my family, my mentor and best friend. So I decided it would probably relieve a lot of the heartache that I have, if I just wrote it all out. So here it goes........

     My grandpa had surgery sometime I think. Not sure of the dates, but it honestly doesn't matter. He was in the hospital up to the week before his death. I remember visiting him in the hospital for the first time and being extremely nervous. I had been in the hospital before, but had almost fainted because it was "too clean." I hated hospitals, but knew that I had to go see my Papa. He was drugged when I visited, so he didn't really know I was there. He looked so peaceful. I would visit him from time to time and unfortunately, not as often as I should've, which is something I regret. I do remember the one time I did visit and it was with my parents and brothers. It was on this one visit that my mom told me that they didn't think he would get to go home again. For the first time, it hit me that I might lose my Papa and I wasn't sure how to adequately respond with my emotions. I was mad at my parents for telling me, mad at God and extremely upset and cried constantly. Needless to say, that honestly, I visited him a little more often then, but still not like a granddaughter should.

    Since he was drugged, I don't think he really knew when I would visit anyways. I would sit by his bed, hold his hand and pray for God to do a miracle. I wasn't ready to lose him yet. One particular Wednesday before a class at TJC, I decided to go by and see him. Mom had already been there and told me that he was very alert today. I went and my aunt just happened to be the only one there. My grandma, uncle and mom were out looking for plots for the grave. I wasn't going to accept that. He was extremely alert that day and it almost made me question whether or not, he was going to die soon. I continued to have that thought, as I kept praying, in a nice way, that God would provide a way for my aunt to leave the room. I wanted to talk to my Papa alone and He did. My uncle called my aunt and she stepped out into the hallway to talk. I struggled with actually talking to him, but I knew that since God had provided this door of opportunity I might as well take it.

     It ended up being a day that I will never forget. I got up and went to stand by his bed. I grabbed his hand and told him that I wasn't ready to let him go. He looked at me and said, "I know, but it's my time." As if I had been hit by brick, I started sobbing. I said, "Please take me with you." He smiled and said that it wasn't my time. We both sat there in silence and after a minute, I said, "I'll finish the dollhouse for Madeline." The dollhouse was something that my grandpa had started for my mom when she was little, but never finished. I found it a few years ago and I wanted to finish it with Papa. We never got to work on it. Another regret. But when I told him that I would finish it for Madeline, my cousin, he smiled and closed his eyes. After a moment, he said, "It doesn't have to have electricity." I laughed and said, "It's going to have electricity and all the works." My aunt walked in around that time and I had to leave for class. I kissed him and left. In the parking lot, God touched me in a way I have never been touched before. It was as if God was saying, "Let him go. He's ready." I started sobbing as I released him over to God and told God to do His will, whatever that was. Even if it meant taking away my Papa. That was the last time he was that alert. Another regret I had was leaving. I should've stayed and enjoyed that precious moment with him since he was still alert and talking.

          That was on a Wednesday and on the next Monday we moved him into Hospice. The Hospice in Tyler, was wonderful and I was glad he was there. My grandma had a CD player going at all times, playing some of the greatest hymns. He looked so peaceful lying in bed with the sweet music filling the room. I went there very often to visit him and one of the days I was there, my grandma and mom had to go out and talk to a nurse. I was honestly, very scared to be left alone with him. If he died, I don't know what I would do. Trying to stay calm, I began singing along to the hymns and pacing around the room. He loved it when I sang, so I prayed that it brought some comfort. He did manage a smile at one point, which made me happy.  Singing, calmed me down to some point and ended up singing to all of the songs on the CD. After singing, I felt of sense of peace fill the room and it calmed me down. I then, felt prepared for whatever happened.

        On Sunday, March 6 my Papa, Harold Pigg left this earth and is now residing in his heavenly home.  When he died, I was in the waiting room with my friend, Jennifer Settles. As we were studying and on our computers, my mom came in. Her eyes were puffy and red and she said, "He's gone." I nodded and said, "Praise the Lord." I didn't cry, but acknowledged the fact that she had told me he had died. We immediately left packed up and left Hospice. We met the rest of family at my grandma's house and had a sweet time of fellowship and food. Then the planning began. We were to have to two funerals. One in Tyler and one in Dallas, since my parents were there. Thursday was the first funeral, which was in Tyler. It was at Green Acres chapel and my family got there early. While we were waiting in the parlor, I began to think about how I was going to react. I figured I wouldn't cry since I hadn't cried when he died, well I was wrong. My family walked in and sat on the first row. The pastor got up to pray and I lost it. I didn't stop crying till after we left the graveside several hours later. After the funeral, my family stood at the front of the chapel while friends and family came by to hug us and share sympathy. I was an emotional wreck and I hated that I looked the way I did. They kept playing the slideshow of pictures and those images were being shown right above and making it so much harder. My friends came to the funeral and I was so happy that they were there. They didn't know my grandpa that well, but they were there for me and my family. It made me feel loved.

     While it's only been a year, God has taught me so much. I have learned to cherish the little memories that occur within my family. I have had such a wonderful time reliving and rekindling some of those memories that I had forgot about. I have gone to Waxahachie twice this year, which is my grandpa's hometown. Driving through that town, the memories flooded my mind and it brought such a sense of peace. I also have learned to trust God in whatever circumstances occur within my life. I also strive everyday to make my grandpa proud and I know that he would be if he could read my newspaper articles or even see me. I hope that I continue to make him proud. I am so blessed with my family. They are always there for me and are full of encouragement.
I thank God for doing what he has done in my life and is continuing to do.

God is doing good

Well God has been doing some amazing stuff in my life. Life Action revival team is at my church this week and God has already started moving within us. He started moving in my life two weeks ago, when I realized that I had been sinning against my brother, Gregory! I confessed my sin and immediately began my pursuit of diligently following God. I went home on Thursday to prepare for Life Action's coming. They arrived Friday night and were greeted warmly by several church members. My good friend, Hannah Johnson, is staying with my grandma, while my family is keeping two boys. Needless to say, I have been kicked out of my room and have been staying with my grandma and Hannah and loved every moment of it. The revival started Sunday morning and in the Sunday school session God began to work on my heart. Sobbing, I poured out my heart to Him, pleading that He would stir within the people and send down the Holy Spirit like I saw this past summer at Family Camp. This is what I want for our church as well as my life. During the prayer time in the Sunday school session, I asked God to radically change my life this week and He did, immediately.

In the worship session on Sunday morning, I felt God pricking my heart that I'm supposed to travel with the Life Action team this coming year, even though I was planning on traveling after I finished my last year in college. I brushed it off, already having made up my mind that I was going to wait a year. After the service, I mentioned it to Hannah, who said that she had actually, thought about me during the worship time and had prayed for me. Then at lunch, another team member had said that she had prayed the night before that God would convict me to travel a year early should that be His will. Knowing all of this, I am seriously contemplating it, but am not biased in either direction.

Incidentally, I also cannot find another roommate for school next semester. I am not sure whether or not this is from God or not. I have looked into all the options I know, except to just get a roommate I do not know. I also have to know within 8 days because of the housing application. No pressure!

God is doing great things in my life and I am ready to see what happens in 8 days! Prayers please!