Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Joy (05/18/06)
TITLE: Wilted Roses
By Jessica Schmit
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“ Clarissa, she is Satan! Joy, You should really try wearing something besides black. It does nothing for your complexion.”
Joy, stone faced, pushed through the crowd of giggling high school girls. Their Cover Girl faces gleamed in mocking delight.
An evil presence danced around the forsaken teen. His cunning voice soothed her enraged feelings.
The time is soon approaching.
Her face darkened with twisted remembrance.
Yes Master. And then we will show them. We’ll show everyone. Joy’s murderous thoughts appeased her troubled mind. Her pale face gave way to a slow smile as her gaze fell upon the inverted pentagram tattooed on her wrist.
Maggie Winther opened the door to her daughters’ room. Caution accompanied her. Her eyes focused on the satanic pictures and symbols which masked the manila walls.
Lord, I’ve lost her. I’ve lost my precious Joy.
With shaking fingers Joy fumbled with her lock combination . Contemptuous voices paraded their sadistic messages to her from the hallways of “Saint Margret’s High School.”
click A low groan escaped from the locker as the metal door opened.
Dark eyes peered inside. Joy’s bony fingers closed around her long black trench coat. A perfect mask to hide her withered body.
The Master's voice returned.
Let us go talk.
At the sacrificial ground. Leave immediately.
A broken mother kneeled beside her daughter’s bed. Lord, please. PLEASE speak to her. Get past the lies she’s believing. Lord, expose the darkness!
Thoughts of a blond little girl skipping with her mom passed through Maggie’s mind. A past not forgotton by the present darkness.
Ashes covered the sacred ground. Joy lit the man made altar.
I am here Joy. What have you brought me?
Evil enshrouded her young face. She slipped her hand into her coat pocket and pulled out a picture.
“Them. I have brought you them.”
Joy grinned as she watched the smiling faces of her classmates be consumed by the crimson flames.
The time is approaching. Are we ready?
“Yes Holy One, we are.”
“Oh God. You breathed life into my little girl. You’ve spoken promises over her. You formed her. Oh God, please show me your plan for her life. I need to know. I need...hope.”
Captivated by the scarlet embers, Joy stretched her fingers to the flames. The smell of burnt flesh tickled her nose. She withdrew her hand. With a clenched fist she tried to squelch the rising pain. Agony continued as the flames turned cold.
“Father, accomplish your purpose in this girls’ life. Satan, you will not succeed! Do you hear me! She is not yours! I speak peace, joy and hope back into Joy in the name of Jesus!” Fiery rose up within the young mother. A godly passion emerged.
Joy’s black fingernails touched the surface of her front door. She glanced at the wilted roses shrugging helplessly in the garden. Weeds had taken their toil on the young beauties.
Something’s wrong. Joy’s mind began to race. Panic ensued.
Nonsense! Go inside Joy. We need to continue planning.
She slowly turned the familiar door knob and stepped inside.
Father, she’s home now. Please speak to my little girl! Maggie finished her prayer as she slipped outside her daughters’ room.
Joy made her way up the stairs. Nausea welled up within her.
Ignore that. Go to your room.
Go see your precious one.
She lifted her mattress to uncover the Colt .45. She stroked the metallic surface. Dark delight flickered in her brown eyes.
Five more days my child. Five more days until we achieve our goal. I am so proud of you.
Remembrance of haughty glances and malicious remarks crashed thunderously in her mind.
Atonement will take place! Your hand shall bring justice. The day approaches when you will be the one they fear.
Joy glanced at her calendar. June 13 was circled in red. Joy’s 16th birthday was scribbled below the date.
What a birthday it will be!
Her fingers caressed the cold metal pistol.
Maggie’s eyes fell on her calendar. June 13. My little girls’ birthday.
Maggie, I am with you. Pray. Pray over that day.
The battle for Joy was just beginning.
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