It’s not all crystal clear.
3 :00
My neon-green and purple G-Shock watch flashed. My eyes had finally managed to make images come into focus. My head ached as though a sumo wrestler had crushed it into a billion crystal pieces.
Crystal.
That guy I met earlier had given me the crystal bracelet I’m wearing. After that, all I remember is waking up with my face on a toilet seat. And here I am, wiping some remains of vomit from my Maybelline-perfect face. Well, let’s say it was only perfect until about an hour ago.
Walk away.
My mind is still spinning and I know I won’t stay awake much longer. I know I’ll probably end up asleep on the side-walk because my senses are not back- I drank them down along with the countless shots of alcohol I took.
Idiot.
I might as well give up right now. Lie dead here and now. The guy who owns this shop will be shocked to find me lying here and maybe mutter something like: “Another good-for-nothing prostitute…didn’t get picked up…the cold must’ve done this to her…half naked…” But I don’t care. I know I won’t be able to make it home and even if I did, I’d get the beating of a lifetime.
You stink!
I know my smell would be pushing any random passers by so why is that person coming towards me? Go away! I don’t need shelter! I’m not a frigging homeless!
“It’s alright.” It’s a man’s voice. I can’t see him so well but I can make out long hair and I think a beard too. I only groan. That’s all I can do. But he’s reaching out his hand…he’s touching my face.
Scream, for goodness sake! Scream!
“Shhh. Do not be afraid, my daughter.” He’s tenderly touching my cheek. I am too frightened to even say a word. My body is shaking, but not because of my slight intake of coke or because of the cold, but because I am petrified. What is going to happen to me?
Scream, you stu-
Where am I? This place is much too bright, especially after the dark alleyway I was in. Have I passed out? Is this heaven?
-pid. I repeat: stupid. You can’t be in heaven. Not after what happened tonight.
That guy again. What does he want? Why is he following me? Why is he in my unconscious mind?
“You’re not unconscious, Marie. I thought I’d bring you to somewhere peaceful.”
“Of course I’m unconscious, otherwise you wouldn’t know my name. And who are you supposed to be anyway?” He looks sort of familiar. Maybe I saw him on telly or something.
“Marie, I am the Lord, your God. And you are not unconscious.”
I’m trying to laugh but my ribs hurt from when I was vomiting earlier. It is suddenly triggering off the need of throwing up again. But all I vomit are the words:
“Jesus? For real? Ha! I knew I had seen you somewhere. How are you, mate?” But he doesn’t seem amused. His face just stays straight and serious.
“I brought you here to talk. You haven’t talked to me since you were eight years and ten months. You have turned your life upside down. Take my hand, I want to show you something.”
Take his hand. Go on, reach for it.
Something in me tells me to trust this vision from my unconsciousness. I’m holding his hand and I can feel a strange lump in the middle of it. I jumped and pulled my hand back. What in the world was that?
He is opening his hands and showing me what I felt- scars in the centre of his palm. If this is just an unconscious dream, why can I… I mean how can I feel?
The Lord? Could it be?
This happens a lot on telly, people meeting Jesus and stuff. Could it be really happening to me? There’s only one way to find out. I must follow Him to where He’s taking me.
Your house.
I can see my mother, still up and reading for the sixtieth time her magazine on housekeeping. I can see the worried look she has on her face and I know she must be exhausted. She doesn’t sleep much, specially when her children are not home. And now she thinks that her sixteen-year old daughter is at her best friend’s house for a sleepover but little does she know…
“Little does she know what her daughter has been up to.” He says. I feel so ashamed of myself. But the level of embarrassment isn’t even at its zenith. The Lord has taken me to that night-club I left a while ago. I can see the people doing exactly what they were doing about an hour ago: drinking, smoking, kissing with great lust, beating each other up…Only ruining their lives. I feel mortified and I need to cry.
Why were you doing that too?
“Evil is constantly roaming around, looking for victims. Satan knows who the weaker ones are and always makes things nice to see but behind it all, only the Truth will set you free, child. “
“Thank you, Lord. Please forgive me for not having prayed all those years. Please forgive me for not realizing who you were.” I’m crying and He’s wiping away my tears. I open my eyes to find myself at my front door, knocking, without that crystal bracelet on my arm anymore.
I look at the time on my neon-green and purple watch.
6:00
I have enough time to take my bath, have breakfast and go to this morning’s church service.
Thank you, Lord.
Spoiler
For HaydenSmith's contest. We were to write a short story on meeting Jesus. The idea is very real which is why I used quite simple language- so that it can sound and look more realistic. Please tell me what you think!
