The horses galloped forward pulling the carriage at an alarming rate. The countryside stumbled backward. The wildlife and plants could be seen one second and they were gone the next. Sir Garrowhill watched through the small window in the carriage. Each jarring movement made his body shake.
He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the sound and sight of the world. How he longed to be with his Savior. He folded his hands together in his lap and let his mind roam freely although his body was so tense.
The smell of the country wafted into his nostrils. He could smell the crisp spring air and the dew on the grass. He savored it. The carriage continued to bump down the road. Now the smell of blood conquered the air and attacked his nostrils. A moment of fear seized him. The maw of death was open wide and it was breathing on him. It smelled sickly and hot. Horror attacked him for a moment but then ran off like a dog. Garrowhill reflected on the grace of his Lord. A small amount of peace returned.
He sighed, grabbed his cane off the seat, and pounded on the ceiling of the carriage. The movements made him gasp with pain. The horse-driver urgently pulled the carriage over, jumped off and met Sir Garrowhill at the window.
“What is it Sir?” He asked.
“This is where I shall die.” Garrowhill said. His face was sweet and wrinkled but there was still a tinge of fear noticeable in his countenance.
“But Sir, if only a mile longer we could reach a physician.” Arthur looked down at the blood covering Garrowhill’s abdomen. Someone had robbed him and stabbed him. They were on their way to the city to reach a physician but time was short and the city was still a long way off.
“Arthur, my wounds are great. I’ve run my course,” he responded, “please help me down.” Arthur pleaded with his eyes but made no verbal protest. Carefully they got Sir Garrowhill down from the carriage. Arthur helped Garrowhill lay flat on his back on the grass. A strange peace started to come over both of them. “Arthur, I’ve lived a long life. This flesh is so weak… But soon I shall see God!” The old man’s eyes shined brightly and a tear trickled down his cheek.
The world got a little hazy and Sir Garrowhill closed his eyes. Again he was alone with the smell of the grassy country – and the smell of blood. The pungent bitter smell harassed him but he shook it off. His mind drifted more toward the love and peace of God. That thought resounded in his head and grew stronger minute by minute. After a few moments it was all he could think about. He opened his eyes and smiled at Arthur. The world was brighter now but things were harder to make out, hazier.
“Arthur. Could I please have something to drink?”
Arthur held a water skin to Garrowhill’s lips and the man drank it. When he was finished drinking Sir Garrowhill laid back and folded his hands. Pain seized his body but peace seized his mind.
“Thank you Arthur, for everything.” He grabbed Arthur’s hand and shook it. Then he closed his eyes once more and let his body relax on the grass.
A moment later he was pain free.
A second later he was in the air, flying through the clouds and the stratosphere.
In the next moment he met the Lord at the glorious gate of heaven.
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