Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: CROOKED (04/30/20)
TITLE: Come, Come.
By Chiazo Obiudu
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Then suddenly, I heard a strange voice.
"Come, come," it said.
It seemed to be coming from outside.
"Come, come," it came again, stronger this time. Carefully, uneasily, I stepped out.
The lush green of the sprawling field instantly caught my eye, reeling me in. I was hooked, pulled like pins to a magnet.
I ventured further. I heard that familiar gentle voice behind me but the lure of the vision before me was stronger, much stronger than I could resist. I kept marching, putting one foot in front of the other, each step taking me farther and farther away from familiar grounds.
The road ahead was wide and inviting. So much freedom, so many options. The voice was barely perceptible now, though the occasional gentle breeze would bring His soft whispers. I chose to ignore them.
I could go anywhere now, do anything. I enjoyed the best pickings of the vast fields. I ate to my fill, then laid down among the green pastures. The soft shrubs provided a cushion for my weary body, the giant grasses waved above, forming a thin canopy over my head.
But rest eluded me. Thirst soon followed. I got up, sniffing the air, hoping to get just a slight scent of moisture. Nothing. I continued trudging through the greens, though they didn't look as green anymore. Perhaps it was the setting sun playing tricks on my eyes. Or maybe, just maybe, the grass was never greener on this side.
And the path was not looking as wide and straight as it had before; I saw more twists and turns ahead, twists and turns that I hadn't noticed before.
The ground underneath was no longer soft, padded. There were pointy rocks, rough pebbles here and there.
Soon, I began to tire. I felt faint from the journey. I had had my fill of the grass, I was full, but there was an emptiness. I wanted, needed something more.
I wished I hadn't left…
I looked back. But by then, I was so far gone, I couldn't remember the way back.
I was lost…
I couldn't even hear those soft whispers any more.
But I heard something else. Sounds of rushing water. At least I could quench my thirst. But where was it coming from, I wondered. Which direction to follow.
I went left; after a few tiring minutes, I tried right. Nothing. But I could still hear the sound. I tried to close my eyes and follow the sound.
Then, my feet slipped. I tried to break my fall, tried to grab a branch, but could only clutch some dead twigs.
I kept falling, rolling over jagged rocks, tumbling towards the edge of the cliff; there was nothing but black emptiness beyond.
I was free-falling towards the precipice.
Then I felt it; the familiar crook of His staff. As my quick descent to destruction came to a slow stop, I heard that gentle voice, "It's time to come home."
"Time to come home… come home… go home…" The voice trailed, then changed.
"Time to go home, dude. It's past our closing time."
I raised my head from the countertop, my heart still pounding. It took me a little while to realize where I was. And apart from the burly bartender, I was the only one left. I struggled to focus on the wall clock at the back of the lounge.
It was too late to go, had nowhere to go, couldn't even drive if I had somewhere to go. I had had one too many as usual.
I tried to smile an apology to the man, but he was only interested in getting me out of the establishment so he could lock up.
I stumbled towards my beat-up truck, fumbling through my pocket for the keys. I almost collapsed onto the back seat of the car. And then the memories started coming back. It was all hazy but that gentle voice was clear as day.
"It's time to come home...time to come home... time to come home…"
The words kept ringing in my head, until I could take it no longer. Exhausted from years of hiding, running, falling, I burst into tears.
"Yes Lord, I am coming home."
*This is a work of fiction.
Inspiration taken from Psalm 23, John 10 and Luke 15.
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
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