Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: EXPRESSION (11/12/20)
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TITLE: Letter in the Sand | Previous Challenge Entry
By Jack Taylor
11/14/20 -
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The breeze played gently with the dangling bangs across his forehead and danced gleefully with the strands resting on his shoulders. It tugged at the long black robes of the bystanders like a child urging a distracted parent to swing. A puff kicked up a swirl of dust as he patiently nudged the particles of sand this way and that.
The sun pushed off the hills like a teen too tired to leave his place of rest for the task ahead. Shadows crawled across the paving stones like ninjas preparing for an ambush. They marked the pace by which he fingered the sand dragged in on the sandals of myriads of sinners seeking ablution in the holy place.
The teacher had scattered seed to the hungry who shuffled in among the 162 columns at first light. Early birds, seeking more than worms. The flock pecked up the parables of hope and truth much like the doves nestled in the arches of the 27-foot-high pillars. The soft glow illuminated eager eyes, folded hands, seekers bent to catch every morsel.
Then, like greedy vultures eager for a feast, the black robes had swooped in with their carrion. Dumping the victim before him, eager, beady charcoal eyes waiting for him to declare his turf. With puffed-up chests, like Emperor Penguins, two of the square-jawed bearded ones hoisted the prey to her feet, forcing her to face the target of this treachery.
Seeing the stones already gathered, already poised to make their mark, the teacher knelt but not to pray. Hands that had formed continents scooped together a small layer of silicon dioxide, quartz crystals, grains once part of monuments and mountains. Letters, words, secrets unlocked, formed- unlocking blind eyes to see.
“Purge the plague,” the black beards demand. “What will you do?” Fire flickers in their eyes. A sneer on their lips. The vultures strut forward to claim a second victim. The trap is set. “The Law, the law, the law” like the caw, caw, caw of a crow. The charges echo of the glittering white limestone walls of the monument designed for forgiveness.
The kneeler ceases any posture of prayer and rises to see them eye to eye. A different fire burns in his. A different set of jaw. “Let the sinless make the first mark!”
Uncertainty flickers over the black beards as the teacher stoops again.
More letters, more words, more secrets.
The wind returns to play. This time with the scarf of the woman bent over in shame. It caresses her cheek and wipes at her eyes. The puffed-up Penguins release their prize and allow her to sink to the dust. There is nowhere else to look but down at those flaming darts etched in the earth. Heat rises up one set of cheeks after another.
Thud. Thud. Thud. The rhythm of release falls like the first drops of refreshing rain in the land of famine. In the land of death, there is the first taste of life.
Shuffle. Shuffle. Shuffle. One by one the Penguins parade away. Confusion. Shame. Guilt. Fear. What happened?
Tears trickle from eyes of desperation and pain. Moisture drops among the words in the sand. The hand caresses the sand. Letters, words, secrets disappear.
He reaches for her and raises her to her feet. She dares to look up, ready for the verdict. The expression facing her is beyond anything she knows. A shepherd finding a lost lamb. A father finding a hurting child. A singer waiting to sing a new song. A lover searching for a true heart.
“Who is left to condemn?” he asks.
With the expression of a prisoner set free the minute before execution; of a barren woman being told she is with child; of a pauper finding a treasure of gold, she trembles with hope. “No one!” she stutters.
“Then neither do I condemn you,” Jesus declared. “Go now and leave your life of sin.” (JN.8:11)
To see an angel fly could not be a better sight than to see such a one freed by the letters in the sand. To see expressions of forgiver and forgiven face to face with the letters in the sand all wiped away. What more can one hope for?
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