Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: The Church (12/06/07)
TITLE: In Search of A Refuge
By ry moore
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Having been stung twice on his lower body, Ryan jacked open the nearest door with his feet and fell to the ground movie style. He was desperate. He slithered along the dark ground like a frightened snake for a few yards, with now familiar sound of the bee-like pests hovering over head. “Gunshots” his brain echoed, “yeah, dem is gunshots alright!”
Suddenly he jumped to his feet and ran helter-skelter through the thorny bushes and grasses that provided stability for the golden sands of this secluded beach. He ran. He stumbled. He bled. He swore, and he kept running.
“Boy what happen that you turn so all of a sudden?” was a question Ryan had always avoided whenever he met his grandfather. Now stumbling like a madman into a black hole, the question began to take shape. Bank robber at 18, and a murderer at 19 and the most feared man in Bagoda at 20 years old. He smiled ruefully. He knew his grandfather was vex, but who cares! Ryan reminded himself that he was known as “The King”.
Now the King was on the run! He paused for a moment behind the hedge that hid the roadway. His body was aching. He allowed his hand to slide across his lower body. His index finger was moving very slowly along his six pack abs, until it got stuck... in a hole. A Hole! Ryan shuddered and grasped at his chest as if that too was going to explode. His bloodied fist closed itself around a large gold pendant. He released it as quickly as he had grabbed it. The Gold Pendant of Sharkman, a.k.a “Death Merchant” was hanging around his neck!
Ryan remembered how he had put his shotgun with the hammer cocked into the small of Sharkman’s back . Sharkman, for all he was worth, wet his pants and cried like a baby. Ryan was in a good mood that day, so he laughed out real hard, relieved Sharkman of the famous pendant; and then put a hole in the coward’s foot as a warning.
Today, ten weeks later, he knew he made a big mistake. In anger he ripped the pendant from his neck and flung it into the brush. The heavy piece of jewellery smashed into a soda can lodged in the undergrowth. Its collision was immediately answered by a barrage of those pesky bee-like pests he had encountered earlier. They honed into his direction like heat-seeking missiles.
The king ran. He ran, with voice of the Death Merchant and his cohorts resounding over and between the buzzing of the bullet bees, “You’re going down, your majesty! Down to hell!” The king kept running, and every sting gave him the energy to go faster. He scampered across the football pasture and into the village nearby. He began pulling at doors as he darted through the shadows, hoping to find one open. Every door was locked tight.
Alas, the village was a sleep except the “.. is there a refuge in the time of tribulation? I go to the Rock for he able...” screeching from a tiny transistor somewhere nearby.
In desperation, Ryan ran blindly down a little alley just as the squealing tyres of Sharkman’s hoodlums turned the corner. He shut his eyes tightly and ran straight. “Blam!” His foot hit something and he fell, head first over some type of rail. A heavy book fell from above with a loud thud across his face; and then darkness came. Sharkman and his boys came by,peered into the darkness, made the sign of the cross and left.
The little old lady kneeling at altar raised her hands upwards for the hundredth time that night, crying as she prayed, “... upon this Rock will I build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it...” Ryan managed a tiny groan “Granddad... I made it to the church...”
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