[In English class, we had an assignment: to create a short story with a Christian theme. The best one in the grade would be submitted to a competition.
Here is my entree. Please enjoy.]
It was all her fault.
She had heard those words often, when she was a child. When she had spilled cranberry juice on her sister’s new shirt, when she broke an expensive glass, when she had hurt somebody either emotionally or physically.
But this time, it was different. This time, everything really was her fault.
Her curly ginger hair blew in the quivering cold hair. Her icy blue eyes just stared on and on, as if she couldn’t get enough of the image in front of her.
The whole world seemed to be holding it’s breath as the town was held there in the still air. She knew that she would never see it intact again, so she took a big eyeful of it. She could see the town center, full of sweet people who had helped her often. The neighborhood sat so close to the town center it seemed to be overlapping, full of friends and family that she’d always hold close in her heart.
She spied her own home there among the rest of the houses. They were dressed uniformly the same, but she could still pick out where she lived among the rest. It wasn’t hard. It was the only one with a garden.
The garden. She’d never forget it. It was one of the most beautiful things in the world. All of the plants in there were bright green, reflecting the health and condition it was kept in. Many flowers, ranging from bright to dark, hung there in the trees. Though it was more than five miles away, she could see each flower as if it were centimeters from her face. She could smell them, too. She remembered hours and hours of plowing the plants, pulling weeds, fixing it up. They were spent well, for the entire town gushed over the majestic garden. It seemed more appealing in the night. The moonlight came and touched each of the branches and leaves of each of the trees and gave them a silvery glow. It made it look almost magical.
The ground shook, a dead give away for disaster. She shut her eyes quickly. She couldn’t see it. She couldn’t watch.
But she heard. Mangled curses rose from the small town, many questions that her ears couldn’t identify. Sobs sounded when people began to realize what was happening, and the anger that had been radiating from the town turned to pleading. They understood.
The noise, though, was probably worse than the sight. Without really realizing it, she opened her eyes, and stumbled backwards upon seeing the destruction. The whole town, on fire, as if God himself had lit a match and put it on the city. That, in reality, was probably exactly what had happened. At least, that was what he had said he would do.
But she hadn’t believed him. She didn’t think he would really do that. She didn’t think that he had really chosen her for the job, that she really had to convert all the people of the town. She thought that the angel she had seen was a vision, a dream. Nothing more. Nothing to be taken seriously.
God have even given her signs when she asked for them. He had made it rain on the days she asked him to, had brought her father, who was fabled dead, home. He had changed her hair color from black to orange, had brought things to her and then made them disappear—he even made an angel appear to her twice!
She had thought they were all coincidences. It rained on the days she wished it would rain on because the skies were dark. Her father came home because he finally found his way back. Her hair changed color because she had been spending a lot of time in the sun. And the things disappearing, as well as the angel? Well, that was only her imagination, nothing to be taken seriously.
Still, she had told the angel God had sent to her that she would work on converting the town. A few days later, after she regretted the decision, she stopped, pretending she had never seen the angel. The angel came back to her, and again she promised she would convert them.
But it was just too hard, so she stopped again. She hadn’t kept her word, but God kept his word.
And so she sat there, tears running down her face, watching the town she had grown up in, lived in her entire life, disappear. Within a few moments the fire grew to consume the whole town. Screams of desperation, begging someone to save them, called out.
I could have saved them, she thought silently. I could have helped. But I didn’t.
She stared until the town disappeared into nothing but a pile of ashes. Even after the fact, it was hard to believe it had really happened. She stood up, but her legs were too weak, and she ended up back on the ground again. She hadn’t quite realized it, but she was shaking violently, a cold sweat shining on her body as she stared at the ashes that used to be her family, her life, her home.
She had tried to get the people out of the city before the fact, but they hadn’t believed her. “An angel,” her older sister had taunted, “from God? Seriously, Shell, have you lost your marbles?”
Her parents’ reaction had been much worse. Her father had laughed aloud. Her mother had called a doctor to come see her. When the doctor heard what was wrong, he simply laughed and said, “She’s gone crazy. There’s no hope for her now.”
She had tried showing them the signs God had given her. “My hair!” she had screamed. “The rain! The disappearing things!”
Her parents had given her the same explanation of her hair as she had given them, simply scoffed at the rain, and upon hearing about disappearing things, called the doctor back.
She had tried getting other people of the town out, too. Their reactions had not been much better. In one scenario, the police were called.
She had begun too late.
As she sat there, staring at the ashes which used to define her home, a terrifying thought occurred to her—I should be right there with them. I should be punished too.
She looked down at the ground, defeated. Her breaths were coming in short as the pain of loosing everyone and everything she loved overwhelmed her. I’m the villain in this story, she decided, I started out the good guy, but I became the villain.
As she fought for normal breath, she toppled onto her side. Tears came fast, hot, and unexpected. Before she knew it, her lungs were gasping for breath desperately as she laid there. It was all her fault. Everything was her fault.
But as she lay there, a thought came to her. She hadn’t herself thought it, and really, she had no idea where it had come from. The words were clear, precise, and without a doubt: God is a God of second chances.
She turned her head to look up at the sky, and whispered, “Second chances?”
The words in the silent, devastated air almost taunted her, but the response she received in her heart warmed her. Yes. Second chances.
“How is that possible? How can I have a second chance on this?”
As she lay there, staring at the sky, whispering to it, she had a feeling as if someone was calling her name. It sounded far off, hard to imagine, and it scared her deeply.
“Michelle… Michelle… Michelle! Get up!”
She woke up with a start, sitting up quickly. Her eyes darted around the room until she found her older sister.
“Geez, Michelle, what were you going to do, dream all day?” she snapped.
Michelle stared at her with wide eyes. “S-… Sydney?”
“Yes, of course!” her older sister barked with a glare. “Come on, you’re going to be late for the game!”
“The… the game?”
“Yes! Your softball tournament. He-llo? Where have you been, another world? Get up!”
With that, her sister darted away and into the bathroom, calling, “Mom, where’s my toothpaste?”
“Under the sink, honey,” came her muffled reply.
Shocked and amazed, Michelle got up and looked in the mirror. It was her face, her night shirt, her icy blue eyes, her…
“Black hair,” she whispered, touching her curly hair..
As she stared in the mirror, she noticed someone behind her. Her heart started thumping wildly (but it wasn’t as if it had been beating that fast all along), and she spun to greet him.
“Hello,” said the person, “my name is Gabriel. Do not be afraid. I’m here to give you a message from God.”
A large smile came on Michelle’s face. “Yes,” she said. “I’ll do it.”
She meant it this time.
