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
  



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: Beautiful (11/07/05)

TITLE: Refined
By Tisha Martin
11/08/05


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

I was nothing much to look at. My hair was matted and grungy; my coat held a load of dirt and dust. I was condemned to sit on this shelf for the rest of my life. No one would ever buy me. I was sure of that. I was helpless with nothing to my name and no good looks at all, until one day a refined man came into the shop. He wore a nice shiny top hat and a blue double-breasted suit. I side-glanced at the elegant vases beside me. Surely he would select them. He spotted the items on my shelf and came over. I stood there with my head held low. His hand touched the vase next to me.

I closed my eyes, hoping that if I couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see me. I cringed, surmising he would pass me by. I nearly jumped when I felt a hand touch my neck and down my matted brown hair. I kept my eyes closed, hoping he’d go away and leave me alone.

“Well, now, little chap,” he said, holding me in his hand, “you look like you’ve had a tough life.” He stared into my scarred eyes. “I think I can make you happy again,” he whispered with a smile on his wrinkled face.

I could never be made happy! I was ugly, doomed for refuse, rejection, and cruel remarks the rest of my life. I tried to protest, but he held me so tight I couldn’t get free. He took me to the counter and paid for me. Loud noises surrounded us as he stepped into the street.

Awhile later, the man entered a house. “You need a good bath,” he said.

Bath? I shrieked. I was so scared.

The man removed his suit jacket and knelt in front of the tub. Messing with the knob, water came gushing out. He stood me in the small puddle; the water tickled my feet. The man took a piece of terry cloth and proceeded to wash me. It felt strange and good all at the same time. He wrapped me in a soft blanket and dried me off.

He took me into a nice room. My eyelids began to droop. The ‘bath’ had made me tired, but I couldn’t go to sleep now! Curiosity built inside of me as to what the man was going to do to make me happy again. He dug into a drawer and removed a bag of brown pieces of hair, bottles of black substance and glue, a knife and a tiny brush. He used the knife to scrape my body until there was nothing left but hard wood. My heart dropped. Is this what he meant by making me happy? To strip me of my identity? I could stand no more. I rested a foot and fell asleep, despite the probing of his feeble, gentle hands.

I awoke the next morning to find myself in front of a mirror. I nearly jumped out of my skin! This wasn’t me. It couldn’t be. Where was all of the matted, messy brown hair, and the scroungy mane and tail? I looked closer. My coat was now smooth and glossy. My hooves were shiny again. My eyes sparkled. I was elegant and refined.

“Are you happy now, fellow?” the man asked. He cautiously put me in an open box and we headed out of the house. Back down the street we went. A door opened and he set the box on the counter. “Good day, madam,” he greeted. “I have an object I think you will sell in your store.” He pulled me out of the box and to my horror it was the lady who had stuffed me inside that musty bag only the day before!

The lady eyed me with great pleasure. I trembled in her hands as she took me from the kind man. “Oh, yes, of course. This will certainly sell for a very high price.” Then she looked at the man. “But isn’t this the piece you bought from me yesterday?” she asked in a shocked voice.

The man smiled graciously. “Yes, madam, it is.”


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 642 times
Member Comments
Member Date
dub W11/15/05
How wonderfully creative, leaves the reader begging. Bravo.
Garnet Miller 11/15/05
What do they say....One man's trash is another man's treasure? I'm glad God sees the treasure in each of us:)
terri tiffany11/16/05
Really nice. I felt for the object as though it were human.
Daniel Owino Ogweno11/16/05
There are many of us who certainly identify with this object. How craetive and realistic? I have learnt an important lesson: Refine it before you define it. This was a good one.
Beth Muehlhausen11/16/05
Interesting perspective of the topic! This speaks of love, hope, resurrection... "beautiful" stuff. :-)
Shari Armstrong 11/18/05
Very very nice parable story!
Laurie Glass11/19/05
Great lesson wrapped up in such a cute story. Great job.
Anita Neuman11/19/05
Ah, such poignant truth in this story. Great job!
Val Clark11/19/05
Yes, like the shopkeeper sometimes I don't see the treasure before me or, worse still, am too lazy to find the beauty under layers of ugliness. Sigh. A tightly written story that packs a punch. Well done. Yeggy
Marilyn Schnepp 11/19/05
I'm a harsh critic with a short attention span - but your story kept me intrigued to the end. Very good story and well written.