Short story thing . . .

A soft moan escapes my lips. I’ve been abandoned again. No one wants me. The words echo in my mind. “No one will ever want you.” I shudder, trying to push the thought of it out of my mind. Being the outcast that I am, I shouldn’t expect anyone to want me, but somehow I feel like there is someone calling me, telling me they want me. This strong sense I cannot shake, and everyday I feel as if someone loves me—someone that I have not yet met.

I roll over, and open my eyes. It’s so dark, I’m frightened, but I will not give in. I can’t let go of the small hope I’m holding onto, not yet. The darkness does not deserve me; I must not fall into its ways.

I must stand up, if I don’t I’ll fall asleep. So forcing myself into a sitting position, I stand up, on two wobbly legs. Stumbling forward, I call out for someone to help me, but there’s no answer. A pang of guilt and fear shoot through me as I realize no one would dare to come here after what I’ve done . . . or would they? Would there be someone daring enough to save me? Could someone ever care enough to want me, an outcast?

“Dreams, foolish and childish . . .” the voice hisses in my ears. It’s so vivid, so real that I think he’s there, but when I turn to look, he’s not. “You’re not worth a penny.”

“Maybe I’m not!” I shout, stamping my foot down on the soft ground. “But one thing is for sure, and that is I will never stop fighting, not until I die.”

Seething in rage, he emerges from the shadows. I stand tall; ready for whatever he will give me. A red whip is in his hand, but I do not cower. I won’t give into him this time.

“Foolish child,” he jeers, curling his whip around my legs. As he yanks back on the end, I fall, but stand back up without hesitation.

The whip lashes out, curling around me. I cry out in pain as it slashes across my back, tearing my shirt and cutting deep into my skin. Gritting my teeth, I straighten, waiting for the next blow. It comes fast, and I nearly fall again. More cuts across my bare arms.

Again and again he strikes, I fall a few more times, but I keep on standing back up. The longing inside me is driving me to stand my ground.

 “He’s out there!” I scream. “He wants me! He loves me!”

“No one loves you, you’re despicable.” The words sting; worse than the whip—worse than the glass driving into my skin, worse than all the physical pain I’ve felt. A part of me wants to believe it—but I can’t give in. Not this time. Not again.

“You’re wrong,” I say, lifting my head up, I take a step forward. “You are wrong!”

Light—oh the blinding light. It bursts from all directions, my captor shrieks, and falls to his knees. I let out a sharp cry, and fall to my knees as well. Despite the sharp pains coursing through me, I manage to struggle forward.

“Father, save me!” I cry out, letting the tears flow, hot and salty down my cheeks. “Please, don’t leave me here!”

That’s when I feel it, His arms around me. I’m being lifted gently off the ground. I’m being carried by Him, carried home . . . where I belong.


~Black Rose