Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Salt and Pepper (07/24/14)
- TITLE: Oh To Be Salt, to be Your preservative,
By Judith Gayle Smith
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The main course – feeding on this wretched tiny woman living in malicious spite with her seemingly forever housemate, her embittered pathetic only son – childish, emotionally charged and at times, dully dispassionate. He was blessed/cursed by an IQ of 183, but did not fulfill, his mother’s expectations.
He lived his life to buck her at every opportunity: left college two weeks before his PHD, stopped being a professor at a nearby college and started carrying mail. The most horrific affront to his possessive, obsessive mother was to marry me while she was out of the country.
Slavering jaws dripped close. Equally cradled, tormented, shrieking, unmercifully trapped by devouring demons, she writhed miserably enslaved in her sheer paranoia, excruciatingly ensnarled in her sweaty, once exquisitely costly, now urine-soaked turquoise satin sheets,
She feverishly crawled her way back to reality, awake and aware, then blissfully drew back to sweet unconsciousness.
“Hey! Pass the salt and pepper PLEASE.”
Guilt engulfed her for destroying her only son, as her son relished the thought of besting her.
Pathetically blind, pleadingly deaf, she was literally drowning snuggled in gorgeous flowered downy pillows designed to soften the hardest head.
Cursed with self-hatred so dark, even light
shied and shivered away from her
threatening torments, She, having, almost a century fomenting hate, became prey for demonic vultures circling her exhaustion.
She cursed God for making her suffer the horrors of living hellishly for so long.
Her desolate son, glumly echoing her pain, her grief, sharing his home with her, was fearfully anticipating a similar future of horror, a dizzying ride straight to Hades.
They call it Alzheimer’s, a manic drive to call memories to die.
I call it sin – I was his wife, horrified,
rejecting their extremely contagious demons.
For them I was pepper, not salt – a helplessly fluttering moth struggling in their darkened beam.
My flight brought awakening happiness, true love, freedom.
Two lives miserably lived fraught with addiction, hallucinogens overpowering while empowering Satan’s grip.
God has caused me to be salt, too late to preserve their souls.
Dear Lord, I failed and fell, undone
by fear. Restored to a kinship with incredible You Most Divine.
Thank you for Jesus, for restoring my soul, and making me Yours, for loving, watching, forgiving me, and gifting me with Your Life to replace my grief.
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