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

Get Our Daily Devotional             Win A Publishing Package             Detailed Navigation

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 3 – Advanced)
Topic: The Book Store/Library (06/03/10)

TITLE: 2012
By stanley Bednarz
06/09/10


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

A rolling blackout swept across North America, taking all of our technology with it. Computers, anything electronic, modern cars, hand held devices, all fried. Communication was through word of mouth only. They blamed it on a powerful electro magnetic pulse.

My wife had been on her way to see her parent's when the event happened, and no one's heard from her since. I don't want to tell my daughter she can't be found.

Anarchy spread throughout cities of bombed buildings, and burned districts. The rural communities with less technology and basic power, like old generators, and much older cars ruled the horizon. Roving gangs ruled at night, and disrupted any chance for local authorities to secure the streets. Our suburban neighborhood was no longer safe for my daughter, Meg and I. It was time to leave.

They called us EMP Nomad's. We heard of a group, a tent city in a clearing beyond our town. We heard they were like a Rescue Mission.
.
On the edge of town, we found our old library, still smoldering from vandals. I imagined a gang of young people, having taken their frustration out on books, since their precious I-Pads and MP4's were useless. A kind of techno-revenge, I figured.

The air was heavy, and a constant haze choked the sun. Half the roof was gone, and it afforded a dim-light to scrounge for books to read.

Next to wishing for fresh fruit to eat, like strawberries, Meg complained the most about needing something to read, something to steal moments from worry over her mother.

"Look here." I turned to Meg, finding a soiled book, while she sidestepped smoked and soaked debris. She was still a child at eleven, but had her mother's emerald eyes. "It's Chicken Little," I said. "The one who said the sky was falling."

She gave me a puzzled look, until it stirred something in the undertow of her mind, a smile grew, and I knew she got it. "Oh yeah, wicked cool. Let's put it in the sack."

"Turned out Chicken Little was a prophet after all," I said.

She froze into a blank look.

We rummaged for about a half hour, when the skies weighed heavy as soot, and darkness scrolled across the sky toward us. "We better find this camp," I said.

At the last minute Meg found a "Little House on the Prairie" book.

I stumbled on a black leather bible. It had red letters in it. I decided this time it was important I read the bible. I never thought I would enjoy a trip to the library so much.

We walked through a skeleton of trees. Something had happened to the vegetation, and all the green leaves of summer fell, dried up, crunching beneath our feet.

As darkness unraveled, I spotted a large bon-fire. Its yellow tongue licked the sky.

Meg wanted to run. She had a long jacket, but would look like a giant moth if she ran. Her brown hair caked in mud; it was hard to tell what belonged on her.

I held my arm out as a bar. "We can't surprise them, they won't know who we are?"

It was the edge of a clearing, and we stood clamped down, listening. No birds singing, no rustling of leaves in the wind, only a faint chorus of voices.

"Listen Meg."

"Yes daddy. People are singing."

We walked into the clearing, and all fear melted as the chorus grew louder.

"Alas and did my savior bleed, and did my sovereign die. Would he devout that sacred head for such a worm as I. At the cross at the cross where I first saw the light and the burden of my heart rolled away..."

It seemed we were drawn into it. Faces glowed in a wellspring of joy. "...It was there by faith I received my sight and now I am happy all the day."

They welcomed us, shared their food, and opened to us the scriptures. They said it wasn't too late; it was the final outpouring of God's Holy Spirit.

We sat by the fire under soft blankets, knees drawn, warming our broken hearts.

But as I looked up through the pulsating fire, I saw what looked like my wife, stumbling out into the open from the other side of the woods. A flood of joy poured from my broken heart.

This could be a new beginning.


The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
Accept Jesus as Your Lord and Savior Right Now - CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.


This article has been read 326 times
Member Comments
Member Date
Shann Hall-LochmannVanBennekom 06/11/10
A very interesting take on the article. it was quite suspenseful and I was eager to keep reading. There are several editing errors in it, but they can be fixed. If you want to do more with this story, I'll be happy to help with the errors. Otherwise it was a fun read. Good job.
Edmond Ng 06/14/10
A very good story, leading the reader to the truths revealed in the word of God. I like the humor from the perspective of Chicken Little about the sky falling, but that's very much alien invasion. The title is misleading and somewhat made me question the writer's belief before I began reading. The 2012 doom's day story is based on mayanism beliefs, not Christian. I think changing the title to reflect the Bible truths about the last days would put things right in perspective. Overall, it's a very interesting read.