The following short story stems from the practice of taking Dictionary.com's word of the day and writing what through.
By Joy A. Sters
A straw finally broke the camel’s back and she walked out the door of her parents home. In retrospect she intuitively saw it coming, as she had already had a bag packed and placed in the back of a closet for when this time arrived. Instinctively she knew it would. He, her soon-to-be third step-father became irate when she refused his advances and belted her a good one across the face. It wasn’t the first time it happened, but in her, it was the last time it would.
Something in her broke so completely that she finally actually moved. She actually did something for once in her life that was completely unpredictable to her person. She got up off the floor and dusted herself off. The screams of her step-father were hardly audible, as if his voice were a million miles away, even though he was standing right there. She walked, ever so calmly to the back bedroom, closed the door, locked it, took the bag out of the closet, opened the bedroom window, crawled out, turned, shut it and didn’t look back. She could still just barely hear the sounds of her step-father banging on the bedroom door as she disappeared out of sight.
Three long days.
She has been on the road for three long days. Nights even longer and little sleep came, but when it did it she was quick to fall into a deep dreamless rest and she would wake never remembering having fallen asleep. She was not walking in any specific direction. She had no plan, no goal. It always seemed to her that everyone had someone, at least one person, everyone but her? It wasn’t something she felt sorry for herself about. She had playmates before. Kids that would show up wherever the “next place” was that her mother and her ended up at, but she never made a real friend, not a lasting one. There was never anyone that lasted more than a few days.
It was a long winding road she found herself on.
Literally, found her self on.
Her eyes sank to the ground and stayed there for long periods of time as she walked the streets. The world had grown cold and weary. Whether they were filled with people or empty barren country roads, made no difference, it was the same. Each day there became less and less reason to lift the head and more and more to keep it down. However, for quite some time now it seemed as if there were nothing but rolling hills and endless pastures. She didn’t care. She wasn’t looking for anything or anyone to see. However, when she finally lifted her head a slight panic set in. She hadn’t seen anything resembling a structure for miles and she had promised herself she would not spend another night without a roof over her head. It was now close to dusk, a bit too close to dusk for her liking. It was another two panic-filled miles before she eventually spotted a small structure. It was way out in the distance and slightly off to the right side of the road. She quickly headed that way. Although, it was a bit ramshackle and weather worn, it had a roof and four walls, which was enough to make her heart swell just enough to feel a touch of warmth in her person.
The door creaked as she went inside. It smelled of old musty wood and the floor boards cracked and crunched under her feet. It had an altar which she started walking up towards, up the two steps, situating and sitting herself down in the middle, closing her eyes for a moment’s rest.
Visions began flooding her mind. Visions of a time when this structure was a sanctuary to many. People had been flocking in groves to be near a man, a very unique man, an extraordinary man. He was tall and kind and welcoming and in the vision his arms were outstretched and a bright white light was radiating out of them, touching people, touching them without actually touching them. His presence radiated out great Healing powers.
Then there was a commotion and the people parted to the sides like a wave being split in two and angry men stormed up the isle and stopped directly in front of the man whose arms are now down at his side. They call him names and accuse him of such horrible things, so obviously untrue, except to the ones laying accusation.
He doesn’t say a word.
A tear streaks down the left side of his face. The main agitator pulls out a gun and starts walking forward, getting so close to the man of Greatness he could have easily knock the gun away, but he doesn’t. The agitator lifts the gun, points it between the Great man’s eyes and pulls the trigger. The Great man falls, the congregation shrieks and screams and runs out the door. The agitator turns and walks out with his posse, while a very young girl, the only one to remain, goes up and takes the hand of the Great man whose body is now physically dead. The touch of Innocence to Innocence illuminates the room and lights a torch in the small child’s Heart and Mind illuminating her person … continuing the Legacy of Light.
The Vision zooms in on the child’s face and bolts the Homeless girl sitting on the floor out of the trance-like state and back into the cold empty room.
She is the child of Innocence.
She doesn’t understand how she could have wiped out and forgotten such an immensely tragic event, but it is truly her face she has seen. A warmness over-takes her hands, she looks down and a brilliant translucent light begins to radiate out of them … the Great man appears like an apparition floating slightly above and says he has been waiting a very long time for her return, that he has been holding this Space for her and would now be preparing her for her role in …