Song Flash Fic

the challenge:  use the first song you hear for the title of the story.

the story just wasn't right for the contest, but i was happy with it.  inspired by the song, leaving eden by chris august.  so here is the result:

LEAVING EDEN

So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them…God saw all that he had made, and it was very good. And there was evening, and there was morning—the sixth day. (Genesis 1:27 &31)

　

This is an account taken from the archives of Serefial, a scribe of the heavenly hosts.

Created in the image of the Almighty, given life by His very breath and free will, redeemed by the blood of the Lamb; yet so far fallen from Eden.

On the first day following the Sabbath:

There was a child, living in hopeless despair so dark that death seemed preferable. Tormented by young and old, because they could not see the infinite magnificence given her by the Creator of all. And so it was the child called unto herself the very angel of death, to wing her away to her maker, that this child, so wounded would find comfort and healing in the arms of the Almighty.

One more step away…

Then dawns the second day:

A woman so desperate to escape reality, she allowed her body to be ravaged by chemicals. Her body, ruined by abuse, malnutrition and neglect, craved the euphoria the chemicals brought. A frenzied search for something to fill the whole in her life. One that only could be filled by the love of the Creator. And all she need do is ask. Sadly, the poisons that filled her broken body won the fight, and she died alone and empty.

One more step away…

There was a third day:

A child of the Creator, so perfectly formed in His image, called by His hand; and yet, she doubted her own worth. The reflection she saw was distorted by the lies of the enemy. She did not resemble those plastic people exalted by the world. She did not meet their standard of beauty and it grieved her heart. So she worked and starved and tried to be something she was not meant to be. To strive for the imperfect ideal, rather than live for the perfect purpose for which she’d been created.

One more step away…

And so it came, the fourth day:

There was a girl, created in the image of the Almighty, taken from her home and sold into depravity. Used for things nothing in creation should bear witness to, she struggled to survive. Crying out for help, lost the world she waits for the end.

One more step away…

And there was night and morning the fifth day:

In a war torn land, a soul huddles in the darkness of ruined buildings, waiting. Waiting on soldiers to come and take her away to the camps, waiting on bombs to come and maim her, waiting on death to come and claim her. In the dim, dirty shambles of her once peaceful home, she waits, in fear and hope. Fear for those things that might come, and hope that they do not, that she will survive another day. The sounds of conflict draw closer and she waits.

One more step away…

Then came the sixth day:

A mother-not-yet, divine creation, yields to pressure and shame. A beating heart stilled by convenience and apathy. Like a hidden disease the guilt spreads, in her heart she knows she chose unwisely for the sake of lust and passion. The heart that once beat in rhythm with hers, only a memory called up in tormented nightmares and for what? She is alone, and unloved; disillusioned she fears not even the Creator will forgive her. And little by little the disease spreads like a silent killer, until her once merry heart is stilled.

One more step away…

Finally, the Sabbath came again:

And the hosts were grieved, for in the houses of worship there was strife and bickering. The beloved of the Almighty that gathered in His name gossiped and attacked each other. Their hands raised so that others might see their holiness, rather than that of the Creator. They listened with dead ears and stone hearts to the words of grace and mercy. And in the end, as the world burned around them, they ignored the hurting souls in need of salvation. They sat unmoved in their lifejackets on a sinking ship, blind to the need around them and oblivious to the Savior that called their names. And all of heaven wept.

One more step away…

The Point

the point of this is easy.  why bother to write if not for someone to read?

so why a blog and not post at say fiction press?  because that's a lot to wade through for other people to find and read one's stories.

so welcome to my multiverse.  no telling what you'll find here.  just beware... and don't feed the monsters.