Hire
Writers
Editors
Home Tour About Read What's New Help Forums Join
My Account Login
Shop
Save
Support
E
Book
Store
Learn
About
Jesus
  

Win A Publishing Package HERE            

The HOME for Christian writers! The Home for Christian Writers!
The Official Writing Challenge

BACK TO
CHALLENGE
MAIN

INSTRUCTIONS

how it works
submission rules
guidelines for
choosing a level

ENTRIES

submit your entry
read current entries
read past entries
challenge winners



Our Daily Devotional HERE
Place it on your site or
receive it daily by email.





TRUST JESUS TODAY

TRY THE TEST



Share
how it works   Submit

Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Love (04/27/06)

TITLE: The Teacher's Tale
By Christopher Randolph
05/03/06


 LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE
 SEND A PRIVATE COMMENT
 ADD TO MY FAVORITES

When I opened my eyes I saw that I was standing before my Lord crucified. I thought He was dead at first. His mangled flesh seemed an unnatural combination of crimson and blue. Blood striped His sides from His hands to the tips of His toes. I flinched as He pushed against the spike imbedded in his feet, lifting himself just enough to take a breath, and then slowly lowered himself. I spat in a vain attempt to remove the ferrous taste from my mouth. Wiping my chin,all I could smell was blood.

He was looking at me. Holding my hands toward Him I prayed that He be healed and He must have known what I was doing because He smiled. Of all things, to do at that time, He smiled! It didn’t seem to help, though, so I just sat down cross legged in front of Him. The least I could do was be with Him. Besides, since I didn’t know how I got there, I didn’t know where else to go.

I must have dozed off because the next thing I remember is being awakened by the sound of bones crunching. A soldier carrying a long-handled hammer was approaching my Master from the cross at His left. I jumped to my feet so I wouldn’t be trampled.

Without thinking I remarked, “I think He’s dead already.”

“I think you’re right,” replied the soldier as his practiced eye surveyed my Lord only to be spattered by blood that spewed forth after a second soldier stepped up and punctured His side, “Just to make sure.” When they left, I sat back down with my back against the cross. There was nothing else for me to do.

Somebody kicked me. “Help us take Him down.” It had been raining and the sun was going down. It was still overcast. The uncanny silence in the too dark stillness weighed on me from all sides. Only old two men had climbed the hill to collect His body and one of them held a hatchet-like tool in his hand.

The cross fell to the ground with jarring little circumstance. The impact dislodged one hand and one man was prying the spike in the other as the second worked on His feet. I caught His body as it tumbled from its rack.

“Can you carry Him?” asked one old man who, I think, was dressed like a priest.

“I’ve got Him.” In fact, He was lighter than I would have expected.

“Follow us, then. It’s not far.”

We picked our way down and around the hill a short distance in silence more to concentrate on our steps than any sort of reverence for the dead. The earlier rain served to create a precipitous downward climb. I was soon instructed to lay the body on a cold stone shelf in a smallish, dark tomb. Some one lit a lamp and I was handed a wet rag and the three of us wiped the blood and muck from His body and I watched as they carefully wrapped His body in linen displaying all the love and gentleness of nurses handling a newborn.

Some time passed and I found myself sitting again, but this time I was all alone at the side of a dusty road. I remember feeling lost and dejected and have absolutely no recollection of whether it was hot or cold that day. Some one was walking up the road toward me. The next thing I know, He’s kneeling before me holding my hands in His own. They were soft and rough at the same time like the petals of a flower that has been weathered over night in the rain. The edges of His wounds felt hard and sharp against my palms.

I looked at Him. His face was gentle but His eyes were intense and piercing. Every cell in my body raced as those eyes of His held mine across time and space. I began to fade. But before the darkness totally engulfed me I heard Him say, “Go to them. Tell them that I am real and that I am coming.” A ringing echoed in my ears.

It was the phone in the kitchen. I stayed where I was, on my knees in the center my living room willing my mind back into my head. “I think my life just got a little more interesting,” I said. But there was no one there to hear me but the cat.


The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
If you died today, are you absolutely certain that you would go to heaven? You can be right now. CLICK HERE

JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.


This article has been read 555 times
Member Comments
Member Date
Lynda Schultz 05/05/06
I love the cat, but I think he has to go. The rest is lovely. I had to think a bit to make the connection between what she had dreamed and why her life was going to get more interesting from that moment on, but I'm happy to know that a new messenger for the Lord has been born. Good work.
Debbie OConnor05/07/06
Very good. This story contains some strong description and believable interaction. It is touching and tender. I liked your conclusion, including the cat. :)
Virginia Gorg05/08/06
Very descriptive, even to the cat listening. I especially like the line: "Go to them. Tell them that I am real and that I am coming.” This flows well and is a good, thought-provoking read.
Brandi Roberts05/08/06
Sorry Lynda, the cat has to stay. I got goosebumps reading this and then coming to the conclusion. Very well written! Very descriptive... one line that stood out was "The edges of His wounds felt hard and sharp against my palms." Oh gosh, I could FEEL it. WELL DONE!
Christine Rhee05/08/06
Your title is eye-catching, your description is vivid and alive, and the cat...takes the cake!! Well done!!
Helen Paynter05/09/06
Don't feel stongly oe way or the other but the cat(!) but do feel strongly that this was a great piece. My only quibble was the way you fell asleep at the foot of the cros - perhaps a trance? Great stuff.
Kathleen Morris05/09/06
I enjoyed your story. Whether anyone liked the cat or not is irrelevant. You got your point across very well!
Rita Garcia05/09/06
Love the story, love the message and love the cat.
Great job, brilliant entry.
Dr. Sharon Schuetz05/09/06
Good job. I liked the ending, including the cat. The cat shows a normal person on what would otherwise be a normal day,