Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: The Writer’s Skill/Craft (04/22/10)
TITLE: The Art of Epiphany
By Theresa Santy
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She carefully flipped to the inner leaf, just before the thin and crinkly pages began. Inscribed was a date, September 13, 2006. History recorded. It was the first time she owned a bible, this one presented by a friend, and the first time she ever held one in her hands. To hold it for the very first time, was much like cradling a freshly made puppy, calm and soft. Her eyes were moist and she could hardly believe how much her life had changed since then.
Quickly, she closed the Great Book. She had a task before her. From her thoughts and experiences; together with her arsenal of supplies, she would create. The mood, she decided, would be passion, accompanied by energy, and motion.
There were no disturbances of any kind, and her home was nearly completely motionless. She sat at the kitchen counter and fired up her beloved laptop, an adorable, apple-red Dell. Her gigantic mug of coffee was unable to contain the mists of vaporized water slipping away, like a string of frightened ghosts, running for shelter. To her right was a stack of folders, engorged with images, scribbled notes, and clippings, and suffering from indigestion.
She sipped her brew, and rested her fingers, A S D F, and J K L ;
Ten minutes later, her mug was empty, and her page still blank. Her email indicator, however, was flashing, which was a distress signal she could not ignore. Emails led to web searches, which led to social media, and she was caught by the undertow. Two hours later, she once again stared at her empty page.
There she sat, for a great length of time.
She was slouching and sinking, when the phone rang out. She jumped up to answer. “Yes.” She responded to the caller. “A walk would do me good.” She was certain, upon her return, thought and prose would spill out of her head, and she would catch them and tame them, and weave them.
But it wasn’t to be, just yet.
At three AM the following morning, her eyelids popped open, and she knew. She bolted from bed, hurried to the counter, and scrambled around for pen and paper, fearing she wouldn’t be able to assemble quickly enough. Words, thoughts, and phrases—all crowded one another, rushing to get out, and I’m quite certain several innocent adjectives were trampled at the door. Her hand could not keep up with her brain, "oh hurry hand, if we don’t catch them, they’ll surely be lost forever."
With fervor and haste, she wrote the description of the moment life became clear, the moment she knew something; she wasn’t sure what, but something exceptional—was present.
"Lying in my hospital bed, I was severely lacking sleep. Exhausted, and sore. I raised my knees, and propped my newborn upon my stomach, leaning him against my thighs. For an extended length of time the two of us bathed in a brazen stream of sunshine, which poured through the window, and we simply stared at each other. While looking at my son’s precious face, something inside me changed, and I got it."
"Suddenly, walls crumbled, mountains fell, and I could see well beyond the horizon. The clump of flesh before me was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen on earth, and I knew—something greater than man, had a hand in this."
"I would never completely understand the four preceding miscarriages or the three full years of weeping and gnashing of teeth. I would always wonder if these events were necessary for my eyes to have seen so clearly."
"Though eight more years would pass, before I would find this Great Creator, I would immediately tag my first knowledge of him to that day, when I stared at my newborn son."
"I would always be certain, on that day; I saw the presence of God. All at once, He existed in my past, my present, and my future, and I was saturated with the hope for glory."
After harnessing her thoughts to cohesion, and after modifications of additions, and deletions, she was at peace with her creation.
And she clicked ‘Submit.’
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