No Idea | Previous Challenge Entry

how it works

TITLE: No Idea | Previous Challenge Entry
By Jack Taylor
05/06/24
LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE
SEND A PRIVATE COMMENT
ADD TO MY FAVORITES

She’d never opened the end table drawer before. She’d never had time to. Not in seven long years. Every day was a different hotel room and every twenty minutes was a different man. But something was different today. A fire alarm had sounded and the endless stream of hungry eyes and desperate men stopped.

Panicked voices in the hall faded. Red and blue flashes peeked through the curtains. She lay waiting until urgency took her to the bathroom.
Who was this baggy-eyed stranger looking back at her? Certainly not the cheerleader of years gone by. Not the Biology major hoping to be a doctor before her mom was killed by a drunk driver. Not the darling of her daddy anymore and not the know-it-all child in Sunday School who won all the awards.

Stepping back into the room was like seeing it for the first time. Discarded clothing, crumpled sheets, dark, empty, lonely. The drawer called to her and she went to it, opening it slowly. Nothing but a book. She closed it.

Drawing the curtain back an inch, she studied the crowds milling around on the street. How many of those men had hoped for her services, her words, her favors, her touch? Turning away from the restless sea below, the drawer called again.

What was that book? She retrieved it. Ah, yes. Flipping it open, she fixed her eyes on a story. One with vague memories.

King Herod kills James and imprisons Peter. Passover time. Just like Jesus. People in the church were praying. When was the last time that happened? Grandma Jean probably was praying, maybe Aunt Stephanie, maybe Miss Robertson, her Sunday School teacher. Who even remembered the girl from way back then?

The angel spoke with Peter and strangely it was like the words were for her. “Put on your clothes and sandals.” She set the book aside and followed through. “Wrap your cloak around you and follow me.” She grabbed her flimsy jacket and cranked open the door, still clutching the book. “Peter followed him out of prison, but he had no idea that what the angel was doing was really happening.”

A young firefighter looked her way and beckoned. She followed. At the elevator, the firefighter wrapped her up in his jacket and set a baseball cap on her head. Was this really happening? Like with Peter?
In the lobby, police formed a circle around the man responsible for her plight. Her gut twisted and her feet froze. The firefighter followed her gaze and nodded. Her captor’s back was to her as she scurried toward the rear exit with her escort.

At the end of the lane, the firefighter took her jacket back and returned to the scene of the chaos. She jumped at the touch on her shoulder.

“Dezi, is that you?”

She stared at those lips. Then the eyes in those round Ringo glasses. Golden hair. The embrace held her firm. “Miss Robertson?”

Her hugger held her at arm’s length. “Yes, but call me Tiff.” Laughter gurgled like a stream over rapids. “I’m actually married now. No one has called me by Robertson in a dozen years. I was praying for you just now and felt like I had to come down this alley and here you are. Where are you staying?”

They were alone in a river of humanity surging toward the firetrucks. “I don’t have anywhere to stay,” Dezi said.

“Come with me,” Tiff said. “We renovated the basement and we’ve been looking for someone to stay with us. And you’ve got to meet our small group and the others in our faith community. We’ve been asking God to help us to bring hope to some of the women on the streets in our city. Maybe you can help us. Do you know anyone like that?”

“I haven’t got anything else to wear,” Dezi said. “If you knew what I’d been through you might not want me to stay with you. I’m not the girl in your Sunday School anymore.”

“That’s wonderful!” Tiff said. “Do you remember that story of how the angel comes to free Peter from prison before King Herod finishes him off? Well, we were reading that story in our small group and we wanted to pray like that church and see God do miracles in liberating people who are captives. Do you think God can still free people like that?”

Dezi hugged her jacket tighter. “For some reason, I think I can believe.”

PREVIOUS ENTRY | NEXT ENTRY
SUBMIT YOUR ENTRY FOR THIS WEEK'S CHALLENGE

The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.

Accept Jesus as Your Lord and Savior Right Now - CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.