Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Abundance (06/08/06)
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TITLE: Black Hawk Down(pour) | Previous Challenge Entry
By william price
06/14/06 -
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"My crew. My God. What happened?"
Cheering and enraged shouts were the first outside sounds to reach the smoky cockpit. AK-47 shells peppering the Black Hawk’s skin were next.
"Though I walk through the valley of death..."
The sun baked prophet stood atop the breezy cliffs that isolate his country from the great blue sea below. It had been twenty minutes since the helicopter flew over his head. He had been praying for rain. His countrymen were parched, near death. Cracked earth begged for a shower. Crops withered, shrunk and slumped to the dust. Their King was just as dry, spiritually. The prophet knew he would be killed if God did not provide. There was little water left to hydrate the King’s garden, his pride. In desperation, the tyrant summoned the thorn in his royal side. The voice proclaiming another King to his people. The Royal decree, “Prove your God. Pray my garden receives water.”
Barley conscious, the pilot heard people entering his chopper. They were ripping into boxes of pamphlets that were to be dropped over the city. Outside the Black Hawk, angry voices shouted the message they read while shaking fists at the cloudless sky. In protest, the hoard began to rock the helicopter back and forth until it rolled over. The pilot cried out when he landed on his bloodied shoulder. When he opened his swollen eyes a rifle was pointed at his face. The soldier holding the gun also had a cell phone to his ear.
"Your rod and your staff, they comfort me."
The prophet’s white cotton garment fluttered in the sea breeze. Gray smoke rising inland was all he observed in the sky. He knew the King would be enraged after seeing an aircraft hover over his city instead of a rain cloud.
Undaunted, the prophet returned his attention to the sea. On his knees, face in hands, he prayed. Seven times he lifted his head, seven times he saw nothing. His cell phone rang.
“Prophet,” the King roared, “Your God is mocking us. He sends a western attack helicopter to drop pamphlets announcing water is on the way. I have a gun to the pilot’s head this very minute. He and his mangled crew will die, if you do not tell me rain is coming.”
At that second, a growing black mass began to rise on the sea’s horizon The cloud was racing towards the coast like, like, multiple formations of helicopters. Black Hawks in the lead, followed by scores of supply choppers.
Closing his eyes, the prophet declared, “Even now, King, I see the Lord’s abundant provision coming. The Lord says He is bringing water for His garden. He says not to touch one hair of any crew member. He says their lives are in His hands.”
“We'll see prophet.”
"Thou preparest a table for me in the presence of my enemies..."
The soldier with the rifle clipped his phone shut. “My king has just spared your lives.”
"Your King?"
“The prophet says an abundance of rain is coming.” The soldier lit a cigarette, but quickly dropped it as he looked skyward.
A smile grew on the pilot’s face as he heard the familiar rumble of his beloved Black Hawks. "Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life."
The attack helicopters circled the perimeter of the inner city. Unarmed troops descended on ropes. They stood with hands in the air.
The soldier was on the cell phone again. “Miscommunication?”
A military major walked up to the crashed Black Hawk and announced, “We come in peace. More aircraft are circling outside the city. Each one has a thousand gallons of water for your people. When its safe, they will land.” The major looked at the soldier’s parched face, “Is it safe?”
“It is safe. But why, how?”
“Just following orders. Can my men attend to our injured.”
The solider nodded.
The prophet was on his cell phone again. “No sir, I said God was bringing water for His garden.” He clipped the phone shut and threw it into the sea.
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