Chocolate Cake and Julia

I had said that today I would publish a story by a young writer from China named Elijah Zhai. But in the interest of bringing you a timely and poignant story, up to date information about China and according to the Lord's promptings, it will be postponed until next week. 

This week I am going to lighten things up a bit. Following is a short story I wrote as an entry in a Creative Writing competition at Goodreads that I just recently won. 

The challenge was to pick one of the following prompts. I picked Prompt # 2 and Prompt #5, because I felt industrious. 

This time you're allowed to base your story on anything you'd like, so long as you somehow incorporate these things in!! The things incorporated can either be just on the side and only mentioned once, or they can be the main parts of the story. You choose!

Please let me know which prompt you choose. Make sure to use all of them listed after whatever prompt you choose.

Prompt 1) A blue rabbit, a slice of cheese, and fifteen quarters

Prompt 2) An old man, a chocolate cake, and a love letter

Prompt 3) A caterpillar, a crumpled note, and the color orange

Prompt 4) A woman named Ruth, a comic strip, and a bowl of guacamole

Prompt 5) A stray dog, a suitcase, and a train station

It is followed by one of my recipes from Laura-Lee's Family Kitchen for Chocolate Cake. Hope you like it.
Laura-Lee

Chocolate Cake and Julia

A man carrying a small, shabby suitcase walked into the nearly deserted train station. Since the weather was pleasant, once he bought his ticket from the lone employee in the small building, he decided to go right through and sit outside on the platform while waiting for his train. Apparently it could arrive at any time within the next six hours. Because of his failing health he didn’t get out of his cramped apartment very often and he wanted to make the most of being out in the beauty of nature while he could.

As he sat down on a bench and put his suitcase next to him he realized that there was absolutely nobody outside at all. He was all by himself, which is what he was used to. He lived alone, his wife had died almost twenty years previously, they had never been blessed with children and his few friends had died long ago. That’s what happens when you survive to the age of seventy-eight.

He reached into his deep coat pocket and pulled out two things, the piece of chocolate cake he had wrapped up and brought for this particular moment and the old letter that he had been carrying with him for the past three years. It was this letter that coaxed him out of his small home and getting ready to take a train in the middle of the night. As he started to eat the cake directly from the plastic wrap, his eyes scanned the words of the letter again, although by this time he knew it by heart.

“Dear Malcolm,

I just heard about the passing of your wife. I know it happened many years ago, but I still wanted to convey my condolences. I never got married and I know how difficult it can be sometimes to live alone. Especially when one was married as long as you and Jean. I pray that you will find the comfort and peace that can be found in the presence of Jesus.

Most sincerely, Julia”

He finished the letter and looked up and into the sky as his memory once again relived the moment when he first met Julia. They were in grade 4 and he was the new kid in the very small town his family had moved to. Julia, being the epitome of kindness, came over to introduce herself and welcome him. She was a rather plain looking little girl, but her sweetness was evident from her first words. These past years since he had received the letter from her he could barely think of anything else.

The two of them had gone through all of school together as good friends and on the day of their graduation she had confessed her love for him. But he “just wasn’t there yet” as he had phrased it to her in expressing his feelings. In his mind he was destined for great things or at least better things. Better than spending the remainder of his life in this small, hick town married to a plain-jane who would spend her life popping out a bustle of kids. Sure he might have broken her heart, but she was young and would get over it and someday she would marry someone who was content to live the life that she had envisioned. Although he had never actually asked Julia what kind of life she had envisioned.

As these memories flooded over him, his tears flooded over him. He put the unfinished piece of cake on the bench next to him and started feeling around in his pocket for a handkerchief. Suddenly the cake was snatched away.

“Hey! Give that back!” Malcolm yelled at the dog who had taken it. But when he saw how thin and mangy the animal was he decided to let the issue and his piece of cake go. He finished mopping up the wet all over his face that the streaming tears had left behind.

“Not very nice of you to take advantage of a person when they are in the midst of a personal crisis.” he said jokingly to the stray mutt.

“Julia would have never done such a thing.”

Julia again. He just couldn’t get her out of his mind. Even when he had left his small town and gone off to university it had taken more of an effort than he had anticipated to forget about her. After all, they had grown up together. But once the excitement of university and dorm living took a hold of his life and he started dating a “better class of woman” he was able to completely erase Julia from his mind. What a fool he had been. A God-forsaken fool! 

He was a wiz at business management and the woman he had married had a chain of clothing boutiques. She also had a chain of other lovers. It didn’t take him long to discover them, because she was much too arrogant to even try and hide the fact. And when he had threatened to find other women, Jean simply didn’t care. A total sham of a marriage. She was much too busy being a career woman to ever have a child and as time progressed and their marriage got worse, he was very glad they had never brought children into their home. It had never been a home. Just a very large, fancy, stylish building for two strangers to live in.

When Jean had died suddenly in a car accident, it was four days before he even found out about it, because they had been living such separate lives. The little bit of his heart that was still alive at that moment died as he stood over her grave. Ever since, he had  been dead inside as much as the wife he had buried. That was, until he received the letter of sympathy from Julia. 

As he pondered Julia and their years of friendship when they were still just a boy and girl, he recalled what had made her so sweet and stand out from all the other people he knew. It was because of that Bible she carried everywhere. He was sure it was that. So it had motivated him to go and get the Bible that she had given him the day he got on a train at this very train station and headed off to university and out of her life. She had obviously been sad, but what he couldn’t get over was her lack of anger. Her lack of bitterness for the way he had just tossed her love aside. There was no way he could do that with Jean and all her affairs. The only way Malcolm knew that he still had a heart at all was because it was filled with hatred. He kept telling himself that Jean was dead. There was nothing to be done about it and he would have to find some way to put all that hate aside or it would destroy him. 

So eventually he had headed for the Bible. As all desperate men do. But in his case, he found the answer he was looking for. And the greatest shock and wonderful surprise was that the “answer” was a person. A person who had lived two thousand years before Malcolm was ever born. Jesus. Still the answer. As if He had been waiting all this time for Malcolm to discover Him. 

And through the years Malcolm had come to realize that the only thing that kept him away from Julia was his own stubborn pride. At first, Malcolm wanted to seek out Julia because he was lonely. Then he wanted to see her because he wanted her forgiveness for the way he had dumped her. Then he decided to stop wanting to see her for what he could get from her, but for what he could give to her. Because when all was said and done, she needed an apology from him simply because she deserved it.

Once he came to that conclusion, he sent her an email and told her he would be coming to see her. Now they were both old people, she had never been married and had created a charity that sheltered abused women and their children. A house-mother to generations of people in need of her gentle, wise, loving ways. He suddenly realized that the dog had gotten onto the bench beside him and Malcolm was absent-mindedly stroking him while he was deep in thought. He looked eye to eye at the dog and burst out laughing. Almost the dog’s entire face was covered with the chocolate from the cake he had stolen and eaten. It was good to have something to relieve the days of tension inside of him, because Malcolm had never been so fearful of doing anything as he was of facing Julia. And he still had to wait for the train and the four hour journey that would take him to the city where Julia now lived.

He turned suddenly when he heard a familiar voice say, 

“I see you still have a way of making new friends.”

He looked up into the face of Julia. He knew her instantly. Even with all her grey hair and wrinkles he would have known her anywhere. But he had forgotten how beautiful she was. 

“What are you doing here?” Malcolm asked with amazement. 

“I’ve waited for you for sixty years. I just couldn’t wait any longer.”

The two of them smiled at each other and in a fraction of a moment, perhaps the same measure of time as a “twinkling of an eye”, the bitterness in his heart melted in the warmth of a new and true love. A love that endured. A love that waited. A love that would never fail.

by Laura-Lee Rahn

"4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

8 Love never fails."  1 Corinthians 13:4-8  NIV

Laura-Lee’s Family Kitchen: Chocolate Cake

   

INGREDIENTS  (* Anything in Brackets has been Laura-Leed - meaning the way I do it.)

{Metric conversion. Approximate}

1-¾  {440 ml} Cups Flour (All Purpose)

¼ tsp Baking Soda

1-½ tsps Baking Powder

½ tsp Salt

½ Cup {125 ml} Shortening (Margarine)

1-¼ cups {315 ml} Sugar

2 Eggs

2 (3) Squares UNSweetened Chocolate

1 tsp Vanilla Extract

1 Cup {240 ml} Milk (2%)

HOW TO:

Preheat oven to 350. Grease and flour 2-8” round pans. (Trace pan on parchment paper. Cut out 2 to put in bottom of pans)

Put Flour, Baking Soda, Baking Powder and Salt in a big bowl together. Stir it up. 

In a different bowl add the sugar to the margarine gradually. Make it nice and smooth and creamy. 

Add the eggs one at a time. (*ALWAYS break your eggs into a little cup first. -easier to dig out a piece of shell)

Into this creamy mixture add the dry ingredients and milk alternately. (I start with a little milk first). 

Then the Vanilla. 

Melt the chocolate in the microwave. (HINT: take out the chocolate while still lumpy and stir. The heat will melt the remainder. If you completely NUKE it, the chocolate burns and tastes Yucky.)

Add the chocolate and mix it up well.

Pour (mostly) equal amounts in each pan. (HINT: I make the top layer a little bit smaller but not too much or they won’t bake evenly)

30 -35 minutes for the layer cake pans

(50 - 60 min for 1 square/rectangle pan. 20-25 min for cupcakes)

Lick bowls, beaters, spatula.

How to Laura-Leeize it? (Def. Do something small, cheap and easy to create the “Ooooo” factor)

When icing it put Strawberry Jam in the middle OR Icing AND Strawberry Jam in the middle.

After icing it, make lacey paper cut out with parchment paper, lay on top of cake and sprinkle icing sugar over it. Remove parchment. “Ta-Da”!

Consume with large glass of milk while reading amazing blog posts at 

Laura-Lee Was Here

Guest Contributor, Werner Lind (author of LIFEBLOOD)

I am so thrilled to introduce to you another short story from a Guest Contributor. 

Werner Lind, is the author of  the popular Christian vampire book, Lifeblood and well known for his talent for reviewing books. (see a link to his Goodreads profile after the story to learn more about this talented story teller and reviewer).

I discovered Werner Lind many years ago when I was looking for a Christian vampire story. Something like that was basically unheard of at the time. In those days most writers didn't publish themselves, but still needed a publishing company to give them the thumbs up in order to get their story into the public's hands. It would have been a very difficult task to get a publisher interested in Lifeblood,  because not only was it a rare concept, but because no Christian wants a story about vampires and non-Christians don't want a bunch of the Bible and Christians in their vampire story. Or so people thought. But Mr. Lind persisted, found a publisher and Lifeblood found a publishing home. And then it found it's way into my home. The book was so wonderful that I felt compelled to write a letter (the paper and pen kind) to the author and he was kind enough to respond. We have continued  to correspond throughout the years and I am proud to call  Werner and his wife, Barb, close and dear friends.

Now, I am pleased (Nay. More privileged and honored) to present to you the short story, "Laura's Choice" by Werner Lind.

Laura’s Choice

by Werner A. Lind c. 2002

Nineteen-year-old Laura Tyler eased her small car onto the curbside parking space and cut off the ignition. As she undid the seat belt stretched across her swollen 
middle, her lip trembled slightly. Her boyfriend’s words replayed themselves in her mind:
 “I’m not supportin’ the brat! Ya have it, I’m gone. An the welfare ain’t payin’ for it neither, so what ya gonna do then?” 
She reached across her seat for her well-worn handbag, the rear-view mirror briefly reflecting her pale face and darkly undercircled eyes. Fumblingly, she replaced her car keys in the bag and drew out a small appointment
card. “Pleasant Hills Women’s Health Center,” it read. “Three o’clock –Sept. 16th.”

Opening her door, she rose awkwardly, her motion hampered by the weight of the growing life inside her. Across the sidewalk, the sign over the door of a huge brick and glass edifice bore the same name as the card. In smaller letters underneath, it proclaimed,
“Pregnancy termination our specialty. ALL MAJOR CREDIT CARDS ACCEPTED.” 
Beneath the sign, a young man in a trench coat walked up and strode purposefully into the building.
Trying to work some moisture into her suddenly dry mouth, the girl rummaged in her purse for a coin. She’d just dropped it into the meter slot when she felt a light tap on her shoulder. Turning, she looked into a pair of concerned green eyes over a freckle-spattered nose. The face belonged to a plainly dressed woman about thirty years old, shorter than Laura.
“Hi,” the newcomer said gently. “My name’s Jenny. I guessed why you’re here. 
Can we talk?”
Laura sighed wearily. “You’re a pro-lifer, ain’tcha?”
Jenny nodded. “I volunteer at the crisis pregnancy center on Market Street. We can do some things to help moms like you –adoption referrals, short-term financial help, 
shelter, things like that….” Two orange-vested men burst from the building and started to run toward the two women.

Tears began to form in Laura’s eyes. “You folks couldn’t afford as much help as I’d need,” she mumbled.
 “And I’m just too tired of fightin’ this. I can’t fight it no more, y’know?” She dropped her glance from Jenny’s face, then felt a small pamphlet put into her hand.
“Let me give you this, anyway –it has our address….”
Jenny’s soft tones were interrupted by a male bellow. “Leave her alone, ya crazy nut! We got laws to stop kooks like you from harassin’ decent people. Ya want I should 
call the cops?” The vest straining across the florid-faced speaker’s ample paunch read 
“Clinic Escort.” He snatched the pamphlet from Laura, ripped and dropped it. 
“Don’t worry, lady, we’ll protect ya.”
“I was only….” Jenny began mildly.
The other escort, a thin-lipped man with a tic under his left eye, snapped an obscenity. “Don’t back-talk us, jail-bird,” he added. 
“Get your rear outta here or I’ll make a citizen’s arrest. You hear me?”
Grabbing the woman’s shoulder forcefully, he shoved her backwards a few feet. She staggered, almost falling to the sidewalk. Frowning angrily, Laura opened her mouth to speak. But the one or two words she uttered were drowned out by an abrupt, explosive noise which came, she realized, from inside the clinic. The trench-coated youth burst through the door, smoke coming from one barrel of the sawed-off shotgun he held. 
“That’s for killin’ my kid, ya….” 
His shout broke off as he saw the orange-vested men in front of Laura.

As the girl stared, frozen, the weapon came up in a short, swift motion. She heard the fat escort’s choked scream, “Gun!” 
and his companion’s wordless screech; she saw the one man scramble for the cover of the mailbox on her right and the other break away to her left. And she heard Jenny cry out as the older woman threw herself where they had been, between Laura and the gun, just as it fired again. Laura staggered against her car as Jenny was hurled backwards into her.
Knocked off her feet, the dazed girl suddenly realized that her arms were thrown instinctively across her abdomen, shielding the womb that cradled her baby. Her next realization was that blood was leaking in a stream from Jenny’s shattered chest. Laura’s insides felt cold and sick as she took her protector into her arms, staring into the suddenly pale face. A siren was wailing loudly.
“For God’s sake, Jenny,” she blurted, “why? Why’d you go and do that?” 
The pain-filled green eyes focused on Laura’s blue ones as Jenny smiled faintly.
“I want you… and your baby to live,” she whispered.
 “It was worth it….”

 She shivered violently, and her head rolled back against Laura’s shoulder. Laura felt tears running down both her cheeks. She thought of praying, but had no idea of how to address her Maker. Footfall sounded on the pavement. The two escorts were returning.

“Oh, Jenny, don’t die,” she sobbed. 
“Please, you guys, help her….”
 The escort with the tic shouldered her aside, grabbing Jenny’s wrist to feel for a pulse. His partner, chortling with glee, bent over the motionless form as far as his belly allowed.
“I love it! I love it,” he wheezed. “One kook shot the other one.” 

Leaning on her car hood, Laura hauled herself to her feet. Behind her, a deep voice was droning something about a right to remain silent and a right to an attorney. She saw Jenny’s blood glistening on her fingers.
The squatting man dropped Jenny’s arm and stood, his face showing conflicting emotions. 
“Yeah, the bitch’s dead, all right,” he said. “But if that creep shot people in there, this won’t bring them back….”
The deep voice interrupted him. 
“Gentlemen, the lieutenant over there needs to 
take your statements now. And would you please not touch the victim any more? The paramedics will be here right away. Do you need to sit down, lady? You can wait in the squad car ‘til the lieutenant’s ready for you.”

His words hardly registered as Laura gazed down at the still face on the concrete. Her stomach felt like it usually did at the onset of her morning sickness. She rubbed it 
with one hand, hoping she wouldn’t vomit. Just then, she felt the pressure of her baby’s kick against her palm. Jenny’s last words echoed in her ears. At a sudden touch to her elbow, she turned to the uniformed policeman beside her.
“Ma’am, did you hear me? Are you all right?”
Laura took a deep breath and nodded. She bent quickly to pick up the torn halves of the pamphlet Jenny had handed her, leaving the blood-smeared appointment card where it lay by the gutter. 
“Yes, sir,” she said, straightening. “We’re all right –and we’re gonna stay that way.”

  by Werner A Lind

I wanted to include a review of Lifeblood with Werner's short story, but it feels wrong to review it considering that he is such a close friend. I did do a review many years ago when I first read it, but it got deleted through the years. But I think the best recommendation I can give for, "Lifeblood" and a "review" for Werner himself is found in the fact I wrote him a letter. (something I so rarely did at the time) And, that Werner wrote back to me and has now generously given me a short story to share with all of you.  

LIFEBLOOD by Werner Lind at Amazon.com



LIFEBLOOD by Werner Lind at Amazon CANADA

Thank you, Werner for demonstrating so many times what friendship is, for being a daily example of a Christian brother, an ambassador for Christ and sharing your love for Jesus through your talents and your actions.
Love Laura-Lee


Please follow the link to Werner Lind's Goodreads profile and discover this talented writer and good man for yourself.

Werner Lind Goodreads Profile



NOTE: IF YOU HAVE AN UNPLANNED PREGNANCY, PLEASE KNOW ALL YOUR OPTIONS BEFORE YOU MAKE YOUR CHOICES. LLR

CANADA ADOPTS - CRISIS PREGNANCY CENTERS


HUMAN LIFE INTERNATIONAL Crisis Pregnancy Centers

If you would like to try your hand at Creative Writing, why not join me at one of the groups at Goodreads where there are weekly contests and lots of talented and encouraging people? Sincerely, Laura-Lee (Moderator)

Goodreads Group RUBICAL

Goodreads Group ADVENTURES IN WRITING

The Right Questions

This was another story I wrote to enter into a competition. Alas, I did not win. But the prompt for the story was the picture below. And from it I created the following story. LLR

“Psst. Psst. Testing 1, 2, 3.

Okay. Good. It’s old but it’s working.

My name is Teva, but I don’t think that will actually matter in the long run. I’ve got some things I’ve got to say and I’m not sure how long I’ve got. I found this old dictatape recorder and I’m going to try and say what I know before they find me.

WAIT. Don’t shut me off. I know I sound insane and maybe I am, but it won’t hurt you to listen. In fact, it might actually save your life.

This all started a few days ago when I went on that blind date with the photographer.

No. Wait. It started before that with the Holographic Moon Prank.

Or, … did it happen even before I was born? Just give me a moment. I haven’t slept for a couple days and I just need to gather my thoughts.

Okay. Yup. [sigh]

If you’re like me, you have no memory at all of when man first walked on the moon. Neil Armstrong was his name. The first guy. I remember because I got that answer right on my Grade 9 history test.

But in my family, we also have a history attached to the Moon landing. In fact, it’s always been more of a family joke. Hmph. It suddenly doesn’t seem so funny right now.

Apparently, in the 1960s before I was even a hope in my mother’s heart, three men took a spaceship to the moon. Our moon. The one we see at night. It took years to accomplish, but when it finally happened it was broadcast on TVs all around the world.

My mother, her mother and her mother’s mother were all sitting around the TV, along with several other family members and neighbours who didn’t have TVs of their own. Now you’ve got to remember at this time, nobody knew anything about space or the moon. Every eye was glued to the TV screen. Mom said they weren’t even sure if there were a bunch of Aliens living on the moon. Who knew what these three men would find Out There?

They watched Armstrong take his first step onto the surface and say his famous line, “One small step for man. One giant leap for mankind". And when that day was over, the world, the earth that we had lived on, it was a very different place. We had decided to go to the moon. And so we went. No miracles. No supernatural. We just wanted it and we did it.

And just as the broadcast finished and Walter Cronkite wished all “good-night” and told us, “That’s the way it is"., my great-grandmother said her own lines, which became famous in  my family.

 “I don’t believe it".

Oh. How we laughed about that through the years. For the remainder of her life she was the butt of our jokes because she didn’t believe we had actually gone there. She had figured it was just some Hollywood people making a movie. She would sit quietly and be made the laughing stock of her family and then just gently say, “How do you know I’m not right?”

And now, I sit here with this little tape recorder and I think, my sweet Memere, you were sweeter and smarter than all of us put together. Please forgive me my arrogance.

All of you will remember the Holographic Moon Hoax from just a couple weeks ago. We looked into the sky at night and saw the word “Error” where the moon should be. Of course, it didn’t take long for it to be discovered  like any other hoax. With all the cameras in the world, it was easily proven by NASA that it was just a hacker who had gotten into the Net. If you think back, you will remember that nobody saw the “Error” message with their naked eyes.

 …[sigh]  But that’s not true. I did. And I’ve been running for my life ever since.

At the time, I was so busy and preoccupied that I didn’t even realize I had seen it myself. I assumed I had seen it like everyone else, on the Internet or on TV or a news broadcast somewhere. We get so busy that we don’t even notice the obvious that is right in front of us.

A few days after the Moon Hoax, I went on a date with a new guy that my roommate had fixed me up with. He was a photographer and after dinner we went to his place and I thought he would make some moves on me. However, the only thing he did was to bore me into a coma by showing me years worth of his photographs. Thankfully, I didn’t have to fake the migraine headache he had inflicted on me with his endless, “Look at this one. Look at this one.”

Now, I don’t believe in God because I believe in science and using my brain. And the idea of some big, old dad in the sky who loves us but would kill his own kid is so stupid. I’m not even going to talk about it. But, I have to admit there have been too many coincidences these past days for them to be mere coincidences. No bookie would ever make book against the existence of God if they had just lived through the days that I have.

It just so happened that one of Mr. Boring’s photographs stuck to the bottom of my shoe and I found it when I got home. I recognized it. It was a lovely picture of Mist Island, which is about 70 miles away from the shore near where I grew up. It’s called Mist Island because you can rarely see it from the mainland. So for him to have such a clear photograph of it was quite amazing. But that wasn’t the only amazing thing about the photo. According to science, the earth is a sphere. And you can easily tell that anytime you see a ship depart. Because as it sails farther away, it appears to drop beneath the horizon. I stared at that photo off and on for a day before I realized what was bothering me about it. From that distance, I should not have been able to see the entire bottom of Mist Island. But I could see the entire thing. He had used a zoom lens and that allowed the camera to see what the naked eye cannot. 

Since then, I’ve done that test myself at different locations and according to the mathematical equation governing distance vs curvature. I shouldn’t be able to see what I can see if the earth is in fact, a sphere. I can barely believe I’m saying these things. I feel like I’m in a nightmare that I can’t wake up from. 

Anyway. Where was I? Oh yeah. Then I went to the NASA government website and found photo after photo that has been altered. And obviously so. Not just things that they use as an excuse like, “Oh. It’s a composite”, but I also discovered that we shouldn’t be able to see the Great Wall of China from space either. So how many pictures are there that apparently NASA took from a high orbit of The Wall? They are not even following their own scientific equations and theories. And now I’m sure they’re trying to kill me. Whoever “they” are.

WAIT! WAIT! Please. Don’t shut this off just yet. If there really are people trying to kill me, these may be the last words I ever speak. So I’m asking you to give me one more minute before you click the OFF button. I am telling you, the earth is not a sphere and NASA has been lying to us. We never went to the moon at all. And we don’t have a bunch of cameras in space taking pictures of the earth, because …

  ...    the earth is flat. D*** *** S***!

 I never thought I would ever say that. Not in a million years. I’m a rational woman. I have a brain. I know science. I’m not sucked in by old religious superstitions. 

[sigh] I’m so tired. I haven’t slept for so long. I don’t dare shut my eyes.

You think you can walk away from this? It will beat at your brain too. And your soul until you MUST find the truth. MUST. MUST. must.

I told all this to a Christian friend of mine and thought she would be thrilled to discover that NASA and all the Scientists had been lying all these years. And that the original Christians were better off because they still believed the old ways of a Flat Earth.

She looked at me and said gently and calmly, almost motherly, “It doesn’t matter".

“OUR EARTH IS NOT ROUND AND EVERYONE IN THE GOVERNMENT AND AUTHORITY IS LYING TO US! HOW CAN THAT NOT MATTER?!!!” I screamed at her.

She answered me with such a look of compassion. 

“The governments have lied to the people since they were first set up. Science changes what it calls the “truth” almost every day. The poor are always with us and each human being will die and have to face God someday. The reason this doesn’t matter is because I know Jesus personally. Jesus. The incarnate God in human flesh sent to us. He made the world and He definitely knows what shape it is. Nothing is a surprise to Him. And my God will meet all my needs and your needs too, through Christ Jesus. Jesus, who is the same yesterday and today and forever.

Whatever the shape the earth is, or whoever lies to me, we will all face Jesus. And when He comes again it won’t be to die, it will be to rule and reign. And EVERYTHING will be made right and perfect. All sin forgiven. Death conquered. Eternal life offered. These things will remain unchanged even if the world looks like a Tootsie Roll. The only Truth you need to know is Jesus and whether or not He is who He says He is. God. And if you don’t know that, no answer will satisfy you or make you happy. Because it’s only in God’s presence there is fullness of joy".

Gee. I can’t believe I remembered all that she said. I usually tune her out while she’s still talking.

But that’s what she told me. Ya know? It made me feel better, although I don’t know why. I suppose that all great answers begin with a great question. Maybe by telling you my story into this little recording machine I’m passing on the Search. I don’t know what will happen to me. I know I’m being followed. Three times someone has tried to run me over. I don’t know the answer to “Who is Jesus?” but for the first time I think I want to know.  But I suppose where you end up is just ...++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

by Laura-Lee Rahn

Alberta, Canada

Please join me at the LINKS below or check out my other blogs listed in the right column.

If you'd like to try your hand at Creative Writing, join the Goodreads Group, RUBICAL. You will find it's widget and Link also in the right column.
You will be welcomed and encouraged by a wonderful group of people. LL

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FINDING YOU (You Were There - Historical Writing Competition)

This is part of a Creative Writing competition at the Goodreads Group, Rubical

The challenge was as follows:

History: If You Were There Competition

Have you ever considered history and wondered what it would be like to actually be in that scene yourself? Perhaps you're a gladiator fighting for your life in a Roman amphitheater (the Colosseum), or you're currently in a raiding party of Vikings (or being raided by them). Or you can even imagine yourself in a Bible scene, but if you do this please provide Scripture evidence and be as accurate as possible. Don't make stuff up. Whatever is happening, imagine yourself in this scene and write about it.

1. Same rules throughout the group matter here too.

2. Try to keep all posts between 300-1000 words.

3. Please have a title or something that lets everyone know what time period your scene is in. (Example: Ancient Rome--title)

What follows is one of the two top entries and is by Christian writer, Leyla K. C.
She has generously agreed to allow her story to be posted here at Master's Peace Theatre and I am excited to have her as our very first Guest Contributor. Plus, she has included the FULL version with extra content!

Finding You

The wind is colder than usual due to it being mid winter. The wind caresses my face as I walk towards the prison. My soft leather sandals make a swooshing sound as they hit the dirt. I reach the doors and one of the guards asks. "Name?" He looks straight ahead not even bothering to look my way. 

"Leora." 

He nods and opens a door for me. "Enter." 

I bowed my head and entered the prison. I hated this place but my father was in debt to the leader of the Guard. Darius, as he was known, was going to kill my father unless he could pay the debt. So my father sold me to him. Darius assigned me the job of feeding the prisoners. I was to make the food and feed it to them. 

I grab my bread basket and walk down a hall to my right. The walls are lined with torches to help the guards see. My shoes make soft hushed noises as I walk down the cobblestone floor. I finally reach the stairs and begin my descent. The steps spiral downward and I begin to feel dizzy. I stop and close my eyes for a moment. Regaining my senses, I finally open my eyes and begin walking down again. 

Owen sits in a chair at the bottom of the stairs, his blond hair tousled as he looks down. I walk up behind him. 

"Hello Owen."  He startles then looks up at me and smiles.

"Hello, Leora. How are you fairing?" I smile back and pull a bread out of my basket. I hand it to him and see that he holds a parchment.

"I'm well. What's that?" I say as I motion  towards the paper with my hand. He looks down at the parchment and says. 

"Oh! It's from one of the prisoners. He wanted me to read it. Said it was important."  I look at the paper and furrow my brows.

"What does it say?" He looks at me then smiles.

"I've already finished it. Would you like to read it?" I know he means well but sorrow fills my heart. I never did learn to read.

"I can't take it." He looks at me and furrows his brow.

"I really wouldn't mind if you took it."  I look away and push a loose curl behind my ear.

"I can't take it because I can't read." I look at him through the corner of my eye. His eyes grow wide with understanding. 

"I see." I sigh and look up at him.

"Thank you for the offer. But I'm afraid I must go. "I begin to walk away when he grabs my hand.

 "Wait Leora. I can read it to you." I look at him and hope rises in my chest.

 "Are you sure? You wouldn't mind?" He releases my arm and smiles.

 "Of course not." I grin and turn towards him. 

"Wonderful. Do you want to start today or another day?" He smiles even wider and says,

 "After you’re done feeding the prisoners come sit by me and I'll read to you." I smile and agree to meet him once I'm done with my duty. I then walk off to go feed the prisoners. This is going to be wonderful! I can't wait. 

The reading session went well but it left me thinking. It was the fourth verse of the first chapter. And declared a man to be the Son of God with power, according to the spirit of holiness, by the resurrection from the dead. A man the son of God? Resurrected from the dead? I needed to know who this person was. Who was this man?

Later that day as I'm doing my dinner run, I see a man with parchment and a quill. He's the only one with the pieces for writing. He came some time last month. What was his name? Philip? No, Paul. I walk over to him and ask,

"Bread?" He looks up at me and smiles.

 "Yes, please." He's one of the few that shows kindness. I grab a bread and a half then wrap it in a cloth. He rises and comes to the door. He outstretches his hands and I give him the cloth. 

"Thank you." He says as he looks at me. 

"May I ask you a question, sir?" He smiles and nods.

 "Of course." I switch my basket to the other hand and ask,

"Are you the one that wrote that letter Owen has?" He furrows his brow and says,

"Yes. Why do you ask?" I take a deep breath and say,

"How do you know that Jesus Christ is the Son of God?" His eyes became alight as if they had been set aflame. I looked deeply into his brown irises, something was there. Something wise and strong. But what? 

"I know, because He has showed me." I placed my basket on the floor and sat down. Paul lowered himself as well. 

"I didn't always believe. In fact I killed those who claimed Jesus was the Son of God." My eyes widen and I scoot closer to the bars.

 "What made you change your mind?" He looked down at his bread and sighed.

 "A man named Stephen said he saw Jesus standing at the right hand of God. I had called it blasphemy and encouraged people to stone him. They had and as they did, he said 'Lord forgive them, they know not what they do.' Those words have haunted me since that day." I look at him and see sorrow swim in his eyes. He looks back at me and continues with his story. 

"I then went on a mission to kill anyone and everyone who claimed Jesus was the Son of God. At one point I decided to go to Damascus. On my journey, as I neared the city, a light from heaven suddenly flashed around me. I fell to the ground and heard a voice say to me. 'Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?' I asked. 'Who are you, Lord?' The voice replied. 'I am Jesus, the one you are persecuting! Now get up and go into the city, and you will be told what you must do'. "

 I stare at Paul, wonder circling in my chest. I've never heard such things before.
"The men with me were speechless for they too had heard the voice, but had seen no one. I picked myself up off the ground, but when I opened my eyes, I realized I was blind. I had my companions lead me by hand to Damascus. There I remained blind for three days. During that time I didn't eat or drink." 

My eyes were wide and I was twisting my hands in my lap. These things sounded outrageous, yet I could only accept them as truth. 

"Now there was a believer in Damascus named Ananias. The Lord spoke to him through a vision and told him to go to the house of Judas on Straight Street. Soon the man showed up at the house and healed my eyes."
I breathed in deeply. I didn't know what to think. His claims were so bizarre, yet something about them seemed so real.

 "Paul? How do I become a follower of Jesus?" The man smiled and reached for my hand through the metal bars. I hesitated then grabbed his hand.

 "Do you want Jesus in your life?" I looked deeply into his eyes. This man was behind bars yet he still smiled, still showed gratitude. He could be killed any minute yet he radiated peace. I swallowed and nodded. 

"Yes." He reached for my other hand and I grabbed it. He nodded. Paul's  face was serious but his eyes danced with joy.

 "If you believe the words I say, then repeat them." I nodded and followed him as he closed while bowing his head. 

"Lord, Jesus Christ, I acknowledge my sins and repent of them. I ask Your merciful forgiveness." I repeated after Paul. My heart pounded, I couldn't explain it but I knew my life was about to change. It scared me yet I couldn't resist it.

 "Lord, I believe that you died and rose again so that I might have ever lasting life. Righteous Savior, I surrender to You if You'll have me. Amen." I repeated the final words and a breath rushed out of me.

I suddenly felt lighter, more free. I looked at Paul who simply smiled and laughed.
"Thank you." I said as tears streamed down my face. My breathing was shaky but I had never been so happy.
"It's not me, it's Him." I smiled and got up. Paul rose too and handed me my cloth back. I took it and placed it back in my bread basket. 

"Leora? Are you okay?" I looked to see Owen  coming down the hall.

 "Yes. In fact I've never been better. Owen, you need to hear Paul's story. It will change you. Set you free." 

by Leyla K. C.

~~~~~~~About the Author~~~~~~

Hello everyone! My name is Leyla K. C. and I'm a young teen girl who lives out in the west of the USA. For most of my life I've been a Christian. I love the Lord because of all the battles he's allowed for me to fight and because of all his blessings. When I write these stories I ask the Lord to give me his words. I want my stories to help, encourage and bless people. I hope you enjoyed my story and God Bless you


Thank you, Leyla for allowing me to post your story here at Master's Peace Theatre. I've been enjoying reading all that you've written and I'm so happy that you are our very first Guest Contributor. I know I speak for my readers as well when I say, I hope you'll let us see more of your work here in the future.
Love Laura-Lee (Moderator/Creator)

If you'd like to know more about Leyla K. C. you can visit her Goodreads profile?
Leyla K. C. Goodreads Profile


Why not go and read the real story in the Bible that Leyla based her story on?
Paul's Conversion Acts 9:1-35

NOTE: Other top entry, "Broken Glass" is also posted here at Master's Peace Theatre.

If you like to read and want to try your hand at Creative Writing, why don't you join us at the Group Rubical? Lots of people to encourage you and make you feel welcome. LLR

RUBICAL at Goodreads