Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: PROTECT (04/16/20)
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TITLE: The Voice | Previous Challenge Entry
By Debra Brand
04/23/20 -
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My parents gave me a lot of freedom. Mom worked 9-5 and my dad’s out-of-town job brought him home later. I was a latch-key child of the sixties and grew more independent as I grew into teen years. Oftentimes, I walked the streets alone, hiking to a nearby frozen lake for skating or stopping in at elderly neighbors who always had a fresh cookie or two. A dark wooded lot across from my house became my storybook hideaway.
One day, walking towards home after school, I had stopped at the penny candy store for licorice. The child-loving warmth of Mr. Hamlin added comfort to my wayward life. Leaving the store, I leisurely proceeded along my favorite route. Centuries-old bluestone sidewalks bordered this main street. The distinct architecture of the elegant homes caught my attention.
I passed the simple red brick Episcopal Church bearing an oversized stained glass rose window and arched doorways with muntin windows. I had attended a service with a friend one Sunday morning. The sun’s ray streamed into the sanctuary casting reds, blues, greens, and yellows upon the congregation while they sang along with the antique pipe organ. The peace of a structured service quieted my searching soul.
On the left was the immense grey Presbyterian Church. It towered the surrounding homes with its spires and massive stone foundation. I had a friend who was a member but I never felt drawn to attend.
Back on my side of the street, I continued onward while contemplating the homework in my bookbag. Cars whizzed by at thirty mph.
I slowly became aware a truck had reduced its speed and drove up next to me. Breaking free of my reverie, I turned my head and I heard someone say, “Hey girl, want a ride?”
I knew everyone in my school who had their drivers' license. The three boys seated inside, grinning from ear to ear beckoning and waving, were not any of them.
“Danger! Move,” I heard in my mind. I sprinted in the direction of the funeral home on my right. There was a well-known neighborhood short cut in the rear of the overgrown yard coming out onto Cedar St. which was perpendicular to Cliff St., where I lived.
My short legs moved fast as the adrenaline peaked. My mind prompted again, “Stop! Wait.” So, at the end of the path, I remained hidden by the brush. I didn’t know why but I obeyed.
The pickup truck had circled around the block to come down a slight hill on Cedar St. towards my hiding place. I could see the boys’ astonished faces searching to and fro, wondering where I had gone.
I quickly assessed the time it would take to run home four blocks away. I wouldn’t make it without discovery. Halfway to my home, sat a friend’s house where I had babysat for her son. If I could make it there, I would be safe.
As soon as the truck passed, I scooted down my street. Shirley answered her door and I fell into her arms. Gasping for breath, I told her about the boys. We both turned to look at the street and there was the truck zooming past again.
Even though this episode was many decades ago, I still recall the fear and trembling. But I know He watched over me then and still does to this day to remind me with a ‘still, small, voice’.
Non-fiction
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