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Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Cup - 10-25-12 Deadline (10/18/12)

TITLE: My Cup, Your Cup
By Myrna Noyes


The middle-aged man staggered a bit, hiccupped, and belched loudly as he prepared to leave the Hunter's Roost at closing time. Thoughts swirled hazily in his muddled mind. When did I board this buckin' tin tub? Th' floor's tiltin' somethin' awful. He shook his head to try and clear it, but it made him want to throw up instead.

Dave the bartender, wiping down the counter, commented wryly to his assistant, "Ol' Harman is really in his cups tonight. He drank more'n usual." He went to shut the door Harman had left open and heard the inebriated man singing an off-key version of "Blow the Man Down."

"He must think he's back in the Navy again," Dave laughed as he locked up. "It's going to be chilly tonight, so I hope he makes berth somewhere soon."

Not long after, Harman stumbled up the steps of an unpretentious building on one of the village side streets and pounded at the door. In his fogged mental state, he believed it was his friend Ben's house.

"Benny always let's me in t' get warm 'n have a cuppa coffee," he murmured with another hiccup.

When no one answered his knock, he fumbled at the knob, which surprisingly turned in his hand. Shuffling inside, he groped unsuccessfully for a light switch.

"Benny musta gone t' bed already."

As his eyes adjusted somewhat to the darkness, he noticed a dim light shining near the front of the room above some type of lectern and a narrow cloth-covered table upon which stood an ornate cup and an empty silver tray.

Harman walked forward and lifted the cup to peer inside for something more to drink. It was as empty as the tray. Disappointed, he set it down and looked around.

"Hey, this is sure not m' buddy Benny's place. Where am I anyway?"

Another wave of nausea hit, and he dropped into one of the long wooden seats nearby. Soon his snores echoed around the room as he lay stretched on his side, facing the back of the bench with his shabby coat pulled close.

He was used to having some rather bizarre dreams, but this one really "took the cake." A voice seemed to come right from that small table up front, but he saw no body. A strange shininess covered the items sitting upon the cloth, and it was almost like he could hear some far-off, lovely music.

He strained to hear the words the voice was speaking. Whoooaaa! That alien or whatever-it-is knows my name! I hope this doesn't turn out to be a nightmare!

"Harman," the voice repeated, "I have something for you to drink."

I hope it's strong coffee, he thought.

"The cup I have for you is not the same as the one you've been imbibing these past several years. It's the choicest new wine. It may not give you the instant gratification you're used to, but it will bring you joy in the end. Instead of blurring your vision and clouding your mind, it will help you see and think clearer than ever before."

Harman was listening carefully. Funny, my brain seems to be a bit sharper already, just hearing about this drink.

"Your worldly cup overflows with unrest, confusion, deception, and ruin. My heavenly cup is brimming with peace, comfort, truth, and restoration. It's an intoxication of pure delight, not putrid drunkenness. Will you accept my life-giving libation, Harman?"

The invitation was irresistible to the man's thirsty soul, and he reached his hand toward the glowing cup.

A rattling sound jerked him into wakefulness, and a moment later a startled man in a shirt and tie was staring down at him still lying on the bench. Harman expected to receive a harsh rebuke and maybe be tossed out the door, but instead the man held out his hand.

"I'm Deacon Darby here at Cornerstone Chapel, and I just stopped in to turn on the heater before this morning's service."

Harman sat up and shook the proffered hand. "My name is Harman. I didn't know this was a church."

Soon he found himself going home with Mr. Darby for a delicious hot breakfast and then returning for the service. The spirited singing and the message of God's mercy and love further softened Harman's heart, so when the preacher gave a salvation invitation, Harman was first to go to the altar.

He glanced toward the communion table on his way forward. I'm ready to trade my cup for Yours, Lord.

"in his cups"=drunk

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This article has been read 406 times
Member Comments
Member Date
C D Swanson 10/25/12
Oh I really enjoyed this entry. It touched my heart, and held my interest all the way through. Thank you.

God bless~
Danielle King 10/25/12
You did a great job depicting Harman's drunken character. This held my interest from the beginning and was a creative use of the topic.
Shann Hall-LochmannVanBennekom 10/25/12
This is a powerful story. Often I don't read titles at the beginning and when I saw yours at the end I realized what a perfect fit it is. You could almost just say those four words and it would say everything one needed to know. You did a wonderful job of letting the reader get inside the MC's head. As humans we hurt for all kinds of reasons and for each reason someone can find a quick-fix to temporarily stop the pain but when it returns, it does so with a vengeance. The only sure-fire answer is in your title and reinforced at several parts during the story. Your Cup for My Cup. This well-written piece speaks volumes.
Marie Hearty 10/26/12
I enjoyed your story immensely. I loved the atmosphere that you created in the beginning in the pub, and then as you described Harmen so well as he walked to the church. What happened in the church was a delightful surprise. This made my day.

God bless!
Michael Throne10/31/12
I loved the start, with your vivid description of Harmon and his ways. The story flowed well and held my interest throughout.
Ellen Carr 11/01/12
I enjoyed this story and what happened to Harman - the happy ending. You wove a good message into your tale. Thank you.
Amy Michelle Wiley 11/01/12
Oh, I like this twist on the everlasting water. Great job!