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Previous Challenge Entry (EDITOR'S CHOICE)
Topic: The Importance of Being Earnest (not about the play) (08/04/11)

TITLE: The Seed
By Joni LeRette-Flores
~1st Place


Having gently retrieved a seed from the packet fetched inside the left pocket of her strawberry-printed apron, oversized bow drooping, almost untied, in the back, the woman folded the top to prevent spillage and returned the pouch to its hiding place.

“This one is just for you. Be very careful not to drop it.”

As though riding a chariot on the wisps of a gentle May breeze, her words galloped to my ears as I sat perched on my favorite boulder-turned-chair facing Bear Lake.

The young child toddled behind his mother; at least I suspected she was his mother, given the same fairness of complexion and auburn tresses, his erupting in curls which danced in tickle above his shoulders; hers pulled tightly in a knot behind her head.

A unique combination of sun and rain enveloped the three of us that day, though I a stranger to the two. The sun casting its wares from the heavens made the sprinkles glisten, as though diamonds, as they fell from the sky.

Having read the work twice before, yet still enraptured, I strummed through the pages of "A Farewell to Arms."

“Perhaps I will start in the middle this time,” I thought, eyes still half wandering to the mother and her child.

Heeding Mother’s advice, the lad cradled the treasure, what I supposed to be pea-sized, in chubby palms-up cupped hands. Though neither his age nor his gender would bring such an outcome to pass, he transported the embryo of his stewardship as though he himself was mother with child.

Watching from my makeshift chair, mist from the stirring lake mixed with the climate’s perspiration caused beads of moisture to drip from my chin.

I must protect my treasure and so reached for the freshly pressed white handkerchief in my back pocket and absorbed the wetness.

Mother and son made their way toward a row of garden containers, oblong, square, wooden, plastic hued in testimony to previous plantings: red and white petunias, purple pansies, yellow daisies. The line of flowers formed a colorful boundary to the frontage of the property and separated the waters from the invading their sandaled feet.

A round, not yet filled with sprouts, barrel at the end of the row was chosen at their destination, its height nearly to the young lad’s head. I presumed the crate already filled with soil for I did not witness signs of carting that necessity along.

“What potential lies in the seed they would plant? Is it destined to become a flower like its neighbors, blooming for a season, or was it perhaps a perennial and thus the reason for choosing the largest container?” My thoughts skipped to embrace the possibilities of purpose.

“What if the child should mishap, lose his cargo unwillingly to the ground below? Would the land prove merciful or unyielding to its intent to produce something bigger than itself, something other than what it was now, or would its destiny be forever abandoned, a result of the hands of its steward?”

“As with other life forms, does the potential for good and evil reside within the seed. Are the forces forever at war, each desiring victory? Might the ultimate purpose be thwarted if maliciousness were to tangle itself in its roots? What if the failure to thrive proves contradiction to its destiny? Where would its nourishment derive?”

“And what about the boy? Might demons, seeking opportunity to consummate their mission spread venom, like snakes, and cause him to succumb to the despair of generations previous. In acquiescence, could the clandestine plague inherent in his seed snuff out his brilliant potential through an act of the will?”

Yes, I pondered these thoughts as I watched the boy and his mother in their tasks and experienced a sense of grief when imagining that a seed created to produce a work of beauty may be overcome by a torment also within its bounds, cutting short perennial blooms.

As my eyes scanned the already-known plot and context of the voluminous Farewell which rested on my lap, I wondered if its author, young himself at the time, realized that the impact of his words, the story pictures he created, would live on for generations.

“Go well, young lad, go well.” Chubby hands now perched above the barrel, ready to release cargo into just the right spot in the awaiting soil, my whispered words, spoken as a blessed proclamation of destiny, rode the messenger of the May breeze.

Accept Jesus as Your Savior Right Now and be Certain of Eternal Life.

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Member Comments
Member Date
Helen Curtis08/13/11
This is a very interesting story. I love your use of descriptions, they are so powerful and paint the scene so beautifully.

May I make just one word of caution (from personal experience)? I found that sometimes I would use so many descriptions that the storyline was buried too deeply to find easily; I kind of felt that this was the case with this story. And it's a really great idea, as long as people take the time to read it slowly and carefully.

I hope this has come across as encouraging. I can't wait to see who 'you' are, so I can bookmark you and read more of your entries! God bless and keep inspiring you. Helen.
C D Swanson 08/14/11
I thought this was a clever entry with presenting the "seeds" being planted regarding good versus evil. I enjoyed it. God Bless ~
Shann Hall-LochmannVanBennekom 08/15/11
This is a sweet story with agood message. There were spots were I found it hard to follow, but for the most part I could picture the mother and son and the narrator quietly watching and wondering.
Lillian Rhoades 08/18/11
Wow! You keep writing like this and you're certain to end up on Level 4.:-) Every word was sheer genius. I loved the fairy tale, metaphysical flavor. "As though riding a chariot on the wisps of a gentle May breeze." Or, "As within other life forms does the potential for good and evil reside within the seed?" Masterful!
Quite worthy of first place.
C D Swanson 08/18/11
I am so glad you won, I loved this message...Nice job! God Bless~
Andrea Willard 08/18/11
The blessing for the child's seed by the narrator is indeed a very special moment in this very special story. I can see a morning glory vine or a golden marigold or a very red carnation coming forth to bring color and vibrancy to an already colorfully written landscape. The Seed ends well. Congratulations!
Deborah Porter 08/18/11
Joni, I wanted to pop in and add my personal congratulations on your 1st place win. This was a glorious piece. The risk of an overly descriptive piece is that the message can get lost in the words. Yet, in this piece, the simple story you wove pulled the reader in.

Well done!

In His love, Deb (Challenge Coordinator)
Rachel Phelps08/18/11
Congratulations on your win!
Amica Joy08/19/11
This is full of music, and "scenic". Emotions, thoughts, life, value and purpose are laid out like a scenary. Impressive!
Bonnie Bowden 08/26/11
Congratulations on your 1st place EC award. Your story was filled with excellent descriptions and questions.