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Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Gifts (of the Spirit or service) (11/22/07)

TITLE: Martyred
By Skittles .


Angry voices banished away the mornings peace. My youngest children’s eyes grew large. Tears spilt down round, perfect cheeks. A heavy fist beat our oak door.

“Open this door in the name of the emperor of Rome!” We were commanded.

I reached for my offspring. I grasped their hands and hurried them out the back gate. I touched my eldest son’s shoulder. Placing my smallest daughter in his arms, I said;

“Run, my children. Don’t stop until you have arrive at you grandmothers house. Avoid the Roman’s at all costs.”

My son nodded. He gently pushed his siblings out the gate, urging them toward the forest.

The pounding in the entryway grew louder. My son ordered his brigade to run. I watched them go. I darted down to the cornfield in search of my husband.

Fear shot up my spine. The access shattered. Glass broke. Our cat screeched. Wind pushed against me as I made my way down the hill, stubbing my toes on rocks. My blood decorated the ground. Sweat beaded my forehead.

Metal clanked behind me.

I reached the field.

The crisp, yellow leaves of the stalks scrapped against my shoulders.

Voices grew louder.

They yelled, “Find those filthy Christian rats and drag them from their dirty holes!”

I glanced behind me. Through the rows, I watched them come. Sunlight glinted off their armor. I called for my spouse. I sprinted. My breath came in wild gasps. I stumbled. The stench of smoke filled my lungs. I gazed over my shoulder. Orange tongues of flame licked up side of our house.

The sound of foot falls and heavy breathing came closer.

‘God, if it is your will, I’ll die as a martyr for my faith. Please keep my children and husband safe,’ I prayed.

I stood up, no longer afraid. My legs shook. I forced myself to run. Red caught my eye. My head jerked backward. My eyes watered. The Roman had a fistful of my hair.

I screamed.

Pain launched up my skull. My scallop tingled. I whirled around. Sweat beaded his bare arms. His chest heaved.

“I arrest you in the name of Rome. Your faith is your crime, if you deny your god now, I’ll spare you life”

“I will sooner die.”

He reached for his sword. The metal glowed silver. He raised it. It sparkled in the sun. he swung at me. Pain bubbled in my chest.

Then the world went black.

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This article has been read 456 times
Member Comments
Member Date
James Dixon11/29/07
I'm not sure if this piece fits the topic (is there a gift of matyrdom?) but loved the setting anyhow.
Gerald Shuler 11/30/07
There may not be a gift of martyrdom but there is certainly a gift of faith that will get you through the martyrdom. This story illustrates that faith very well.
Jan Ackerson 11/30/07
I like your short, clipped sentences--they really set the pace of this tense story.

There were some punctuation errors, especially early in the story, that you might want to fix. And--I'm not sure--but did corn grow in the ancient Middle East? (I could easily be wrong about that).

The ending was gulp-worthy--very effective!

Joanne Sher 12/02/07
You absolutely had me on the edge of my seat. Very well-written and engaging. Great descriptions.
LaNaye Perkins12/05/07
This was so intense. You had me on the edge of my seat. Only a few errors that I could see. Well done.
Amy Michelle Wiley 01/14/08
Gripping story! I love stories from this time period.