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Melissa had not wanted to go the party; she recalled this as the music throbbed in her ears working in time with the rhythm of conversations, jokes and loud open-throated laughter. Melissa sat on the arm of a low sofa, her head rested against the flat palm of her hand, weighted on her elbow that leaned on the back of the large padded cushion. Some young man was talking in animated, staccato sentences about the joys of rock climbing and the young girl next to him, sweet looking with short blonde hair curling playfully around her ear, engulfed every word.
A man Melissa did not know smiled at her from across the room, revealing slightly crooked front teeth; she nodded slightly and looked away. He had been watching her for nearly an hour now and saw the faintest trace of distaste on her face when he smiled to her. Now he watched her more intently. He studied the way her chocolate silk dress wrapped around her fragile frame and knew how easy it would be to break her. He wove his way through the tight throng of bodies and stopped an inch from the tips of her shoes.
“Hello”, he said. Melissa nodded at him again, smelling whiskey and cheap aftershave. “My name’s Sam”, he said, pressing against her indifference.
Melissa stood up, legs pushed against the back of the sofa as she sought to put distance between herself and Sam. “Excuse me Sam,” she said as she tried not to trip over the sofa, “but I have to go and find Claire.” She had no idea if anyone called Claire was even at the party, but Sam scraped over her instincts like a blunt nail. Under her breath Melissa murmured a prayer and made her way to the back of the house where she was certain she had seen a phone. She had not wanted to be here, and now she wanted to go home
“Dad, it’s me. Could you come and pick me up now please? … Yes I’m fine; I just want to come home now… ok, see you in half an hour. Thanks Dad.” Melissa replaced the receiver and from the corner of her eye saw Sam still trapped in the melee that converged in the dining room. The kitchen door led out to the back yard and Melissa decided to go through to the front of the house to wait for her father.
As Melissa opened the back door, damp air caressed her shoulders, sending a chill across her flesh. The scents of the garden – wet grass and damp earth – refreshed her and she was glad to be waiting outside. The moonlight played upon the flowers in the borders and she thought of the garden at home, and the garden that she would one day create when she had her own home. When her fingers were deep in good earth and her nose was filled with its aroma’s, Melissa felt closest to the Lord then.
Melissa felt him behind her too late to scream – his hand was clamped around her mouth and she felt the weight of him as she was slammed against the wall. She cried out to the Lord in her head as she struggled, the house full of people sounding half a world away. Fear screamed in every sinew with the pain now coursing through her and as the inside of her head seemed to fill with black, she heard Him.
‘I am here my child’. With all her faith, she lifted up her heart to Him and felt Him take the fear and pain with one gentle caress of His hand.
The path was narrow and white like marble, tinted with ribbons of many colours and cool under Melissa’s feet. On each side grass grew as fields of green velvet dotted with perfect white lilies; the air was rich with the scent of jasmine, and the perfect cleanliness that washed in a breeze against her feet swept through her spirit. The past became disjointed; her thoughts and memories moved and entwined in a dance, melting upward in a swirl of light and colour. She could see Him now, shimmering like a half-image: The Saviour, his arms outstretched to her. She fell to her knees, ashamed of herself in front of perfection. He reached out to her and lifted her up, bathed now in the purest light, His child renewed and reborn and home in His rest forever.
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