Starting Over: Prologue

Emilea dearest, if you get the chance, please proof this for me. This is an edit of the story that used to have its own blog. If I make more headway with it, I might start a fictionpress account. Thanks, I love you!

Prologue

Waking up was disorienting. It wasn’t strange having Matthew and Sandy pressed up tightly against me, their hair wet with sweat from the summer morning heat. The loud fan blowing as hard as it could to keep us cool hadn’t startled me awake. It just took me a moment to realize where I was. I sat up quickly, eliciting a grunt from Matthew before he turned over. I quickly surveyed the room. When I located our book bags sitting on an old, white rocking chair, my heart slowed and I slumped in relief. Donny wasn’t about to storm into the room demanding why we were still asleep on a school day. We were in Mississippi, far from his reach. We were safe.

Still, safety wasn’t enough to coax me back to sleep. Extracting myself from Sandy’s arms while trying not to jostle either of them, I slid off of the large bed in the guest room Mabel had let us use. The room was simple but quaint. Lace curtains lined the one small window, and built-in shelves on either side of the window carried antique books, a small radio, some porcelain dolls, and a vase filled with a variety of flowers, no doubt picked from Mabel’s garden. At the end of the bed rested a hand-sewn quilt.

I smiled. The room reflected Mabel’s personality perfectly. Though I’d known her for less than a day, she seemed to be a warm, homey sort of person, and she had filled this room with her love and perspective on life.

I pulled socks over my feet to muffle the sound of my walking and tip-toed to the bathroom. After I relieved myself, I rinsed my hands and my face. When I glanced at myself in the mirror, I noticed a green, terrycloth robe hanging on the towel rack. I reached for it, and noticed a short note attached to it. I grinned as I began to read: “From the desk of Mabel Charity Blythe.

“Emmalyne,

I found this last night in my daughter Jaden’s old bedroom. You two are about the same size, so I thought it might fit you. I hope you like it.

Mabel.”

I laid the note carefully on the countertop, trying to avoid getting it wet, and pulled the robe on. It was a perfect fit, and the material caressed my skin.

After checking in one more time with Matthew and Sandy, I silently left the room and treaded to the kitchen. I glanced at the clock on my way in: 8:13. Anderson had mentioned that breakfast started at 8, so maybe there would at least be some oatmeal on the stove. When I arrived, I was mildly surprised to see Anderson sipping coffee and reading a newspaper. The remnants of a large stack of pancakes sat on a plate in front of him. My stomach growled.

Anderson started at the sound. “Oh, hey, Emmalyne,” he welcomed. He lowered his newspaper. “How are you doin’ this lovely mornin’?”

I grinned at his southern drawl. Kids in Charleston often teased me for the accent I brought with me from Texas, but mine could never compare to his. “Oh, you know,” I answered nonchalantly. “I’m kinda hungry.”

He was on his feet in an instant. He carefully folded his newspaper and stacked his syrup-covered plate in the sink on his way to the griddle. “What can I get for you?” he wanted to know. “Two? Three? Ten?”

I chuckled, almost stopping short when I realized that I was actually laughing. “Maybe I should just start with three?” I suggested nervously.

If Anderson noticed my hesitation, he didn’t comment on it. He poured three perfect circles of batter on the griddle. The appliance hissed with satisfaction as it forced the batter to slowly rise. Bubbles formed on the tops.

“What can I get you to drink while you’re waitin’?” he asked.

I jerked out of my fascination with the cooking pancakes. “Oh, uh…”

“I just fixed up a pot of coffee, if you’re interested,” he offered.

I laughed again, more of a bark this time. A world where I could tolerate any form of coffee had yet to be discovered. “I’m not much of a coffee person,” I admitted. “Maybe…orange juice?”

Anderson nodded swiftly. “Comin’ right up!” He yanked open the refrigerator door and removed a carton of Tropicana: Lots of Pulp orange juice. As he shook it up, he opened a cabinet and retrieved a short glass. He let me sit and pour it myself while he flipped the pancakes.

I sipped the juice and relaxed. It was a nice morning, and Donny wasn’t about to yell at us for drinking too much orange juice and wasting his hard-earned money. Anderson and I sat in companionable silence.

A few minutes later, he presented the pancakes to me with a flourish. Butter melted down the sides of the stack and syrup covered every part that was visible. It looked delectable, and I was suddenly ravenous. Anderson chuckled as I scarfed it all down and paused only to finish and refill my glass of orange juice.

When I finished eating neither of us made any move to leave, so I sat and studied the kitchen. It resembled the guest room in many ways—same lace curtains, a similar assortment of flowers on the window. The countertops carried large containers of flour, sugar, and other such baking goods, as well as an assortment of cutlery and common spices like salt and pepper. A cross-stitched piece was framed and hung on the wall next to the refrigerator: “Home is where the heart is”. Mabel’s touch was evident here as well.

Anderson cleared his throat, breaking my reverie. “I noticed that the kids slept in your room last night,” he told me. He watched me with a guarded expression.

My carefree trust of him diminished rapidly with my fear. “Were you spying on us?” I demanded.

He watched me for another moment, then threw back his head and laughed. The table rumbled with vibrations from his chest. I glared at his prickly brown-gray beard and his twinkly blue eyes. This was not a laughing matter. Anderson didn’t understand how fiercely protective I was of my siblings, how I would sacrifice anything for them. He didn’t get that I rarely trusted anyone with Matthew and Sandy’s safety. If he did, he wouldn’t be so careless with his actions.

After a few seconds, he focused on me again. “What cause would I have to spy on you?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. “I got up to get a drink of water last night, and I decided to check in and make sure you kids were okay. I guess I shouldn’t’ve been too surprised to find the three of you together. Is that typical for you?”

So he hadn’t been spying on us. He was as concerned about them as I was? Or was he? Mabel was, there was no doubt about that. Anderson couldn’t be so much different from his wife. Deciding for the moment that he was still trustworthy, I nodded. “We…find comfort in each other,” I explained. “We feel safer when we’re together.”

Anderson leaned back in his chair, studying me. “I noticed that,” he said. “Those kids…they trust you like you’re their mother.”

“Yes,” I agreed. I filed another mental note next to “wasn’t spying”: “recognized my maternal instinct”. “I’m sorta like the mother they never had.”

He frowned, suddenly serious. “Did your mother die?”

“Oh.” I frowned, too. I guess I could see how he jumped to that conclusion. Metaphorically, she had died to me, but that wasn’t what he wanted to know. “No,” I sighed. “She’s just…not much of a mother.”

For awhile Anderson sat very still. His only motion was his left hand stroking his beard. He seemed deep in thought. Abruptly he stood, coffee mug in hand, and refilled his cup from the coffee-maker next to the gas stove. When he returned to his place at the table, he met my gaze steadily. “I’m tryin’ real hard to figure you out, Emmalyne,” he said slowly, pondering his words even as he said them. “It’s like I’m lookin’ at a Where’s Waldo? book and I can see a bunch of people that look like you, but I can’t find you.”

I laughed lightly, trying to hide my inner turmoil. We weren’t supposed to talk about this for two more days. I wasn’t ready to trust him with my life story yet. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to stay in his house all day. “I guess I’m not like most runaways you get,” I suggested.

Anderson laughed back. “Most runaways that come through here come alone, or with a boyfriend or girlfriend,” he informed me. His expression was suddenly solemn again. “Most aren’t spendin’ extra money and energy by bringin’ their younger siblings along.” He paused. “I’ve been wonderin’ about that.”

My heart pounded heavily. How much had he already guessed about us? I wasn’t ready to give away that secret. It was reserved for Forrest’s dad. “In all the few hours you’ve known us?” I finally teased.

His face changed from seriousness to anger. “Stop playin’ games with me,” he growled. I jerked, startled by his transformation. “I heard you talkin’ to those kids before you went to bed last night.” Spying, spying! “You were sayin’ that I’d help you get to Texas so you could finally see Forrest again, and that once you got there, all of you would be safe.”

I was terrified and deeply suspicious of this man, but I had to know why this was so bad. “What’s so awful about that?” I asked, voicing my thoughts.

Anderson leaned forward in his seat and lowered his voice. “This Forrest…you have affections for him.”

I wanted to laugh when he said those words—I mean, “have affections for him”? That’s not exactly a common phrase—but all I could do was blush and stare. My burning face gave him all the ammunition he needed to back his theory, but I wasn’t red because I liked Forrest. I didn’t like him, at least not like that. I was suddenly just as mad as he was.

“You think I’m dragging the two people I love more than anything in the world halfway across the country because I wanna hook up with an old boyfriend?” I yelled. He winced, but I kept going. “You don’t know me at all, Anderson Blythe! You don’t know what I’d give up for them. You don’t know—” I stopped abruptly. I’d been about to say, “You don’t know how much danger they’re in.” But that would’ve given too much away.

The tension in his face relaxed, leaving a softer, warmer look in its place. “I’m sorry I upset you,” he said softly. “I didn’t realize just how maternal you really are. I thought it was a cover-up you’d come up with so it would look like you were running away for a good cause.”

I exhaled, letting all my anger out in a rush of air. I laughed bitterly. “We don’t need a cover-up,” I whispered. “Our real story is good enough.”

Anderson leaned back in his chair. He opened his arms in invitation. “Will you tell me?”

I tried to evade it, even though I was resigned to it already. “It’s a long story,” I hedged.

He glanced at his watch. “We’ve got two days,” he answered. He smiled encouragingly.

I sighed. Here goes, I thought.

Hey, Emilea! So I know that it says Prologue at the top, but I'm pretty sure that I'm not going to have a prologue anymore, that I'll just go in order. If you want to see the first two chapters, I have them posted at www.fictionpress.com/~evelynshaye. Thanks!

Rejection to Unbreakable

I've been thinking about my relationship with God. For the last few years I've been very aware of Him, but not necessarily making Him a priority. That usually happened at camps. I'd last for about a week before going back to my pre-camp life--mostly without God. Whenever I realize that this is happening and that I really love God, I get frustrated with myself. Why does my flesh reject the One I want to love the most?

Then I read this book called The Host. It's a Stephenie Meyer book and it's really amazing. It's about Wanderer, a soul that inhabits a girl named Melanie's body. Only Melanie doesn't fade away like she's supposed to. She stays, and her thoughts begin to affect Wanda's (Wanderer's) thoughts. Wanda ends up falling in love with Jared, Melanie's boyfriend. Then she meets Ian, and finds that she loves him more than she loves Jared. But she can't love him because Melanie's body rejects anyone but Jared. Here's an excerpt from close to the end of the novel:

[Ian asked,] "Is it so unbearable to have me love you? Is that it? I can keep my mouth shut, Wanda. I won't say it again. You can be with Jared, if that's what you want...."

"No, Ian!" I took his face between my hands..."No. I--I love you, too. Me, the little silver worm in the back of her head. But my body doesn't love you. It can't love you. I can never love you in this body, Ian. It pulls me in two. It's unbearable."...

He closed his eyes again. His thick black lashes were wet with tears....

Oh, go ahead, Mel sighed. Do whatever you need to. I'll...step into the other room, she added dryly.

Thanks.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled myself closer to him until my lips touched his.

He curled his arms around me, pulling me tighter against his chest. Our lips moved together, fusing as if they would never divide...and I could taste the salt of our tears. His and mine.

Something began to change.

When Melanie's body touched Jared's body, it was like a wildfire--a fast burn that raced across the desert and consumed everything in its path.

With Ian it was different, so very different, because Melanie didn't love him the way I did. So when he touched me, it was deeper and slower than the wildfire, like the flow of molten rock far beneath the surface of the earth. Too deep to feel the heat of it, but it moved inexorably, changing the very foundations of the world with its advance.

My unwilling body was a fog between us--a thick curtain, but gauzy enough that I could see through it, could see what was happening.

It changed me, not her. It was almost a metallurgical process deep inside the core of who I was, something that had already begun, was already nearly forged. But this long, unbroken kiss finished it, searing and sharp edged--it shoved this new creation, all hissing, into the cold water that made it hard and final. Unbreakable.

I know that was a long excerpt, but could you see it? If you think of Melanie as our flesh, Wanda as our soul, and Ian as God, it's very similar to our Christian walk. We long for God, but reject Him at the same time. Still, there are moments that we can shove our human nature away and have close communion with God. It won't be until we have our new bodies that we can really connect with the One we love.

There's something powerful about connecting with God, no matter how you do it. You can read your Bible or pray. You can also put in a worship CD and sing and dance for Him. Shove all thoughts away and, for just an hour--which isn't much time at all--praise God for everything. Make an effort to be with Him. It's so worthwhile.

You know how The Host ends? (Don't read this if you don't want to spoil the ending.) Ian loves her so much that he gets her a new body, one without Melanie or anyone else in it, and they get this perfect love that can't be blocked or broken. That's how it will end for us one day. And really, that's just the beginning.

Dance

She turns her face to the sun,
like flower petals opening to greet
light and warmth for the first time.
She sways, drags her foot along the sand
in a sweeping pattern; she reaches out slowly
to balance herself.
She jumps from tip-toe to tip-toe.
Waves tickle her legs and she giggles.
She spins quickly, almost gracelessly;
her arms form an arc above her head.
There is no clear pattern;
all movement is spontaneous.
She is vaguely aware that she can't dance,
but fully senses the pounding of her heart,
filled with a burning passion
that pulls her into a leap
and makes laughter bubble out of her mouth.
When she is alone, she sings or speaks;
words praise the One who made the glorious ocean.
Occasionally she asks questions;
she thinks aloud and walks through the stillness
interrupted by crashing waves.
Her worship doesn't end, however.
She shouts for joy and smiles in satisfaction.
He knows His plans for her,
and she anticipates eagerly His will for her life.

Question: Did someone hack into my account and add that "Insights" comment at the top? I absolutely love it, but I definitely didn't put it there.

God's Decree

I came across this passage when I opened my Bible tonight:

This is what God said:

"Before I shaped you in the womb,
I knew all about you.
Before you saw the light of day,
I had holy plans for you:
A prophet to the nations--
that's what I had in mind for you."

But I said, "Hold it, Master God! Look at me.
I don't know anything. I'm only a boy!"

God told me, "Don't say, 'I'm only a boy.'
I'll tell you where to go and you'll go there.
I'll tell you what to say and you'll say it.
Don't be afraid of a soul.
I'll be right there, looking after you."
God's Decree.

--Jeremiah 1:4-8, The Message

This seems pretty straightforward, doesn't it? After I read it, I started thinking about how this happens with all of us. Like, God empowers us, gifts us, in ways that are pleasing to Him and that we should use for Him; but we make up excuses. "I'm too young." "I don't have time for that right now." "I'm not all that good, really" (even though we're very certain of our capabilities).

Are we so full of ourselves and what we can do that we have to horde it? Do we feel like the only way to be fulfilled is to use our gifts for our pleasure, rather than God's? He gave us our talents! The least we could do is give some of it back.

I'm really bad about this too. But I don't want to relinquish just some of it. I want Him to have it all! I was actually writing to Him about this, and I was about to promise Him that I'd change. But then I stopped. I couldn't do it. It was like He was saying, "Evelyn. Come on. Your word has no power over what you do or don't do. It's My Word that makes the changes." And it's so true. It's God's Word that makes us different, better, and brings us to our knees so that we can offer it all to Him.

How many of us want to get to that point? Where our lives our not our own, that they belong to God? I think that we should want that, since it's God's decree that we do it. Read it again. He states pretty clearly that He has a mission for us, and we will do as He says, because He's all-knowing. Master God. A different version says "Sovereign Lord". All of these names center around the God who gave us our unique talents and wrote our life stories. It's not easy to get there, of course. But that's why He gave us the Bible, so we can get to know Him better and grow closer to Him. By becoming fully His, we change through Him.

Creative Best

"Make a careful exploration of who you are and the work you have been given, and then sink yourself into that. Don't be impressed with yourself. Don't compare yourself with others. Each of you must take responsibility for doing the creative best you can with your own life." --Galatians 6:4, The Message

I just read this book called Peculiar Treasures by Robin Jones Gunn. The book itself was fabulous, but the note from the author at the end of it was more than fabulous. She tells her readers that God did his creative best when he designed us and wrote the stories for our lives. We have a privilege to take his creativity and use it in our lives. Then she asks us what we see God doing in our lives right now? It's one of those questions you can just breeze through and see as a rhetorical question, but I stopped to answer it. And I have no answer.

I think I'm starting to understand myself. Part of the verse in Galatians said to not be impressed with ourselves or compare ourselves to others. I've been very bad at that. I feel like I'm so close to God--and I am, don't get me wrong--but I was using that as an excuse to exalt myself. Maybe not in an obvious, outward way, but inside I've been using my relationship with God as a confidence boost. And confidence in an "I'm better than they are because I'm closer to God" way.

Looking into the future, I have no idea of what I want to do with my life. I know what I enjoy and what I excel in, but I have no clear answer. I don't sense any direction. I'm thinking that maybe it's because I'm not as close to God as my selfish heart claims I am.

Today was upsetting. I'm mad at myself. I feel like there's a hole in my chest that shouldn't be there, some stupid high school drama thing that shouldn't be affecting me, if I'm so close to God. Because He should be filling me completely. Instead I'm...comparing myself to others and spending precious time thinking about a guy.

Anyone who's reading this, I need help. I'm trying to become closer to God and...well, be humble, I guess. I'm a proud person, just like the rest of the world. And I don't know how to turn to God. I mean, I do, I just don't know where to start.

So I'm sorry, to all of you. I'm sorry that I've compared myself to all of you and had the audacity to think that I might be more deserving than any of you. Please forgive me. And if you do, please pray for me.

I love all of you.

Forever

How is it possible to fear the future yet embrace it at the same time? I'm so ready to be out of high school and have this freedom to really define myself and start my life. But then I realize that when I leave, my friends can't come with me, at least not all of them. The more that life keeps moving, the more people move away.

I remember Brooks' note called Love like a River and how life has to keep flowing. That's how God made it. Then I think of the concept of eternity. Why do we mourn and have fear when we know that we'll see these people again after we die, and then we'll never be apart? I guess our minds can't fully comprehend the difference between now and forever, so we hurt. We cry. We hold our friends close to us and tell them never to go.

I'm really going to miss all the seniors that are leaving this year. Wednesday nights and chamber music classes are going to feel so...empty. The people that it's taken time for me to go close to are leaving, and I have to start over. It scares me to think of all the juniors that are graduating next year. How many of us will be left? How many more friends will I have to make before I leave them behind, too?

Why couldn't we just be born in heaven, where there's perfect love and community?

Why do we have to wait?

And why is it so hard to wait?

Mr. Right

So this Sunday we did a talk on purity and I decided to tell God what I wanted in a guy. What started as bullet points turned into long detailed descriptions, and I came up with eight that I felt were really important. They're not in any particular order, except for number one. Let me know what you think and if I'm missing anything. (I wrote this at 10:00 Sunday night, so I was kinda tired!)

1) He's a strong Christian. He loves God more than anything, even me. He has a relationship with God. His faith doesn't waver, even when his life or someone else's is on the line. He reads God's Word a lot and applies it to his life. He has a close network of Christian friends. He lives like a true follower: reaching out to the needy, witnessing, staying pure, and encouraging other believers. He sets a good example. God's light shines through him. In short, he is filled with the Spirit and it shows.

2) He's pure. He hasn't given himself away to anyone yet. (Or if he has, then he's changed radically.) He doesn't put himself in tempting situations. He respects me as well as other women. He doesn't push my boundaries. He saves affectionate gestures so we don't go further than we need to.

3) He's my lover but also my closest friend. There's a healthy balance of romance and fun friendship. We got to know each other well before we started dating (or at least before our first kiss). We can go out with friends and feel comfortable. He makes me laugh. He'll cuddle with me on the couch. We have a close relationship that won't be broken easily.

4) He appreciates music. He doesn't have to play an instrument or sing well, but has to understand my love for music and respect that.

5) He's intelligent. I'm not being arrogant when I say this. I want to be able to discuss things with him and have us both understand each other.

6) He'll dance with me, even if it's just swaying to a slow song.

7) I want to learn from him. I want him to challenge me and start discussions that might give me new perspectives on things. He'll make me try new things. We'll share experiences with each other and become closer because of them.

8) He loves me inside and out. I'm not a prize or a plaything. He sees God's Spirit in me and thinks that's just as beautiful, even more beautiful, than my body. He won't stop loving me because my outside changes, and he won't try to restrain my passion for life. He loves me as I am.

That's basically it. Later I thought about wanting kids, but that's not so important, because kids are God's decision, not mine. And money and looks are just pluses, not requirements. I've been thinking about posting this on facebook. What do you think?

Journal Entries

I've let go. I thought that the past had a tight grip on me when really I was the one that was holding on. So I threw it away. My old journal is gone and I've started a new one. This new one focuses solely on God: what He's doing in my life, what I'm praying for, what I'm struggling with. It's a refreshing feeling. I'm living in the present now.

What brought this about? God. He's doing some amazing things in my life, some of them I don't even understand. But He and I are closer than ever and it feels awesome. I've never been so sure of my faith.

This morning Nathan Smith read 2 Corinthians 5:17--"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has gone, the new has come!" My new journal is sort of a metaphor for my new relationship with Christ, how He's changed me this week. This week! So many changes have taken place between Wednesday and today, and some others last month. Changes are constantly occurring, but this week more so than ever. It's awesome. God is so good!

So, journal entries? Letters to God or records of what God's doing, usually turning into letters to Him. And that's the way it's supposed to be. The focus is no longer on me; it's on the One who made me.

I love you, Lord Jesus!

Psalms

Emilea, put in a praise CD and take time to read throrugh this. You need to not be rushed and you need to feel utterly and incandescently in love with God. Praise him. Dance if you have to. But most of all, love him.

Psalm 62-63
5 Find rest, my soul, in God alone;
my hope comes from him.
6 He alone is my rock and my salvation;
he is my fortress, I will not be shaken.
7 My salvation and honor depend on God;
he is my mighty rock, my refuge.
8 Trust in him at all times, people!
Pour out your hearts to him,
God is our refuge.
11 One thing God has said,
two things I've heard:
that you, God, are strong,
12 and that you, my Lord, are loving.
1 O God, you are my God,
earnestly I seek you,
my soul thirsts for you,
my body longs for you,
in a dry and weary land
where there is no water.
2 I have seen you in the santuary
and beheld your power and glory.
3 Because your love is better than life,
so my lips will glorify your name.
4 I will praise you as long as I live,
and in your name I will lift up my hands.
5 My soul will be satisfied as with the richest of foods;
with singing lips my mouth with praise you.
6 On my bed I remember you;
I think of you through the watches of the night.
7 Because you are my help,
I sing in the shadow of your wings.
8 My sould clings to you,
your right hand upholds me.

Psalm 64
10 Let the righteous rejoice in the Lord
and take refuge in him;
let all the upright in heart praise him!

Psalm 66
1 Shout with joy to God, all the earth!
2 Sing the glory of his name;
make his praise glorious!
3 Say to God, "How awesome are your deeds!
So great is your power
that enemies cringe before you.
4 All the earth bows down to you,
they sing praises to your name."
5 Come and see what God has done,
how awesome his works in man's behalf!
6 He turned the sea into dry land,
they passed through the waters on foot--
come, let us rejoice in him.
8 Praise our God, people!
Let the sound of his praise be heard;
9 he has preserved our lives
and kept our feet from slipping.

Psalm 68
4 Sing to God, sing praise to his name,
extol him who rides on the clouds--
his name is the Lord--
and rejoice before him.

Psalm 103
1 Praise the Lord, my soul,
all that's inside of me, praise his holy name.
2 Praise God, my soul,
and don't forget what he's done for us--
3 he forgives our sins
and heals our diseases,
4 he redeems us, lifts us out of the pit
and crowns us with his love and compassion,
5 he satisfies our desires with good things...
8 The Lord is compassionate and gracious,
he's slow to anger and abounding in love for us.
9 He won't always accuse us,
and he won't be mad at us forever;
10 he doesn't treat us the way we deserve to be treated
or repay us because of all our iniquities.
11 Because as high as the heavens are above the earth,
that's how great his love is for us;
12 as far as the east is from the west,
that's how far he throws our sins away.
13 Like a dad has compassion for his kids,
that's how God has compassion on all of us that fear him;
14 because he knows how he formed us,
he remembers how we crumble like dirt.
15 For all of us, we live like grass
or like flowers from a field;
16 the wind blows and we're gone
and we're no longer remembered.
17 But from forever to forever
God's love is with those of us who fear him,
and his righteousness is with us and our descendants.

Revival is coming. It becomes more evident every day. We need to be ready for when God comes. He loves us more than we could ever imagine! Where will we stand when he returns? What kind of love, what kind of life will we have to show him?

Isaiah 41:10

it’s dark outside.
she stumbles, gasping
in pain. feels blood
trickling from her palm.
the trees mock her;
the rustling laughs.
cold eyes glare. they narrow,
no sympathy. she scrubs
her hand on her jeans,
permanently stained.
standing quickly, running
from their joy, their
pleasure. they call out
to her, “join us, join us…”
she sobs, tears betraying her.
roots trip her; branches
scratch her and then slap
high fives. no mercy.
then a new voice sounds.
“Take my hand.”
the wind hisses, sharp
gusts stinging her face.
“don’t listen, don’t listen.”
the new voice is now a
whisper, “I love her,”
and takes her hand.
he gently rubs the tears
from her cheeks. the night
cries. “he lies, he lies!”
“Be Still!” they quiet.
she looks to him, but can’t
see his face. “who are you?”
he doesn’t answer, pulls her
along with him. “please,
i don’t know you!” she cries.
he stops, wraps his arms
around her. “You know who
I Am,” he murmurs. he lifts
her into his arms and all she knows
is peace. he runs with her.
the wildlife gains new
confidence, reaches out to her.
she whimpers; he holds her closer.
light is visible up ahead. the trees
fight again, wind whips around her,
the eyes have taken on new forms.
the creatures snarl at her.
“I Am!” she cries out.
suddenly the world is all
aglow. the light is so intense
that she can’t make out her
savior’s form. the forest
yells in pain and leaves them.
he carries her out into the light
and sets her gently down.
when she reaches for him, he is
no longer there.

a week later, she is chased
back into the woods, immediately
attacked by those that hate her.
“I Am!” she cries again.
he appears at her side, pulling her
into his embrace. “Do not fear, for
I Am with you.”

Breakthrough

Emilea, I've been working on my story and I'm trying to write it in chronological order minus a lot of details, so I eventually have the framework of the story written down and I can add in extra stuff later. But last night I had to get this scene out of my head and I still had a week of storyline to go, so I skipped that week (bad Evelyn!) and started writing. And it startled me! You know how some authors have this plot worked out in their heads but when they start to write it down the characters change it around? It happened to me. It's so cool! But now I'm feeling a little apprehensive and I'm wondering if I should keep it. Could you give me feedback? I'll summarize what's already happened and what will happen after this scene for you. Thanks!

Summary: Cecily has been at the children's home for a week. She has met Will, Ashelyn, and several other orphans and has opened her dad's entire library for them to use. She kinda likes Will even though she just met him, and Will has told her that he wants to show her something and talk to her. Oh, and Justin is her dad, not a previous boyfriend (not that ten-year-olds have boyfriends a lot. Or maybe they do).

Scene:

Will led her through a door at the end of a hall and up a winding staircase. He held firmly to her arm, a lot like the way he had held her hand when they first met. Only this time he didn’t let go. Cecily thought about asking him why, but found out a second later when she stumbled.

“Careful there,” Will whispered, holding her tighter. He smiled reassuringly at her. Cecily smiled back weakly, her heart pounding in fear. If he hadn’t been holding on to me, I might have fallen all the way down!

As they resumed their climb, Cecily thought again about how Will reminded her of Justin. The way he held her made her feel secure, like Dad’s hugs; when he read to her and the other children, his voice sounded like Dad’s; the way he smiled…

A rush of cool air brought her back to the present. Cecily was surprised to see stars so close, she thought she could touch them. Will had brought her to the roof of the children’s home. Along with the initial thrill came apprehension.

“I’m not sure about this, Will,” she said, taking a step back. Her arm dropped to her side, away from Will’s touch. “This could be dangerous, right? And won’t we get in trouble with Leah or Alice?”

Will grinned. “What the dear little ladies don’t know won’t hurt them.” He reached for her hand and tugged it gently. “Come on, Cecily.” He stared into her eyes. She stared back and wondered if he could see what she felt. She was sure that wonder and excitement and some anxiety were visible her eyes. But most of all they reflected trust. Complete trust. This boy of twelve years wasn’t her dad, but was extending his friendship and care to her, just like he had reached for her hand the day they met. “Leave them behind for a moment and share a secret with me.”

Cecily longed to say, Yes, yes! I’ll go with you. Something held her back, though. “Why me?” Her voice sounded small and unsure.

Will kept a hold on her hand but seemed uncertain of what to say. Eventually he shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted. He squeezed her hand tighter. “But I know that there is something about you that’s different. I—”

“You’ve known me for a week, Will,” Cecily interrupted. “That’s not much time for us to build up trust, for us to know each other.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said impatiently. He stamped a foot with frustration. “Everyone says that, even Ashelyn.” Will paused for a moment. “Didn’t you feel something when we touched hands, though?” His voice had softened and carried an emotion that Cecily didn’t recognize. He bent down and leaned forward, their faces almost touching. He was whispering now. “I know I did.”

Before she realized what was happening, he had wrapped his arms tightly around her and was kissing her. Cecily gasped when his lips met hers, but it was covered up by his mouth. She protested at first, until her heart started rushing with excitement and she felt so full of new emotion that she kissed him back. Then she thought about what was going on. It was her first kiss, and very different from what she had heard from her friend Jena and seen in movies. First kisses were supposed to be incredibly special and wonderful and anything but what she was experiencing. She was leaning back uncomfortably and couldn’t move, and Will's mouth was wet with saliva. Cecily soon figured out that she wasn't enjoying this and tried to pull back. Will only held her tighter and kissed her with more passsion.

She couldn't stand it any longer. She took her arms from around his waist and shoved him hard. Finally Will let go and faced her.

What Cecily saw terrified her.

The emotion she had heard earlier in his voice was replaced by another in his eyes. She couldn’t find a name for it, but saw what it conveyed: anger, disappointment, some hurt. He had realized, just as she had halfway through their kiss, what emotion he’d had in his eyes.

Infatuation.

What hurt most, though, was the curve of his mouth that said, What was I thinking? This is just a kid, a little girl, a naïve, inexperienced ten-year-old. He was mature, and she wasn’t.

Cecily soon found anger too. Who was he to imply that she was immature? He had initiated everything! Sure, she had felt a little infatuated too, but until this moment, this sweet, innocent kiss gone sour, she hadn’t acted on it. What had Dad read out of Song of Solomon? “Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires.” She had known that she wasn’t in love. Why hadn’t Will waited?

Tears streamed down her cheeks. She felt cold and abused, and she missed Justin all over again. She pushed past Will and ran down the winding staircase, tripping a few times but ignoring the pain. She burst through the door at the end of the hall, not bothering to memorize the hall’s number. She wouldn’t need that door again. Not if it led to Will.

In her room, Ashelyn was typing away furiously on her laptop. She glanced up when Cecily came in, not planning to say much more then a greeting. Then she saw the blotches on her friend’s face, each one representing hurt, confusion, anger, grief. Mistrust.

“Cecily?” she asked cautiously.

Cecily burrowed under the covers without even pulling her shoes off. She choked out, “Tell your dear brother that his secret is safe with me.” She didn’t know why she said it. Maybe because, beneath all the whirling emotions, she still had a soft spot for her new friend’s brother. Or maybe because the only way to change anything was to be what Will was not.

Note: What do you think? I kinda like how it turned out. I definitely wasn't planning for this. The scene on the roof was supposed to be the two really defining their friendship. Instead it's...this. Eventually they end up together, so I'd have to find a natural way for them to become friends (it's already forming in my head). But seriously. Does it make sense for Will to kiss her after knowing her for a week? I know that happened to Erin and me and then we broke up, so it's possible. But for a ten- and twelve-year-old? Please comment! And maybe when I finish chapters one and two, I can send you all of the story via email. Luv ya!