Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Think (09/02/10)
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TITLE: No, Don't Think on That! | Previous Challenge Entry
By Kathy Barnes
09/06/10 -
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Master was never in a good mood, but he sounded as if he were in a particularly foul, offensive mood. The sisters hastened their arrival. Shrinking and cringing at his feet, they inquired how they could best serve him.
“You worthless, insignificant, stupid creatures. Why have you not brought me the report on Mrs. Salomé that I asked for? She is old, sick, and dying. Her time on earth is short. Surely, the two of you should have been able to break her by now,” growled Master. “Can’t you do anything right? Are you demons or cupids?” He snared menacingly.
“But we have brought you thousands of others,” Worry countered. “It’s not our fault, if Sickness and Depression did their job,” Master cut Fear off with a swipe of his claw. He bellowed, “I don’t want excuses, I want results. If you can’t defeat her soon, it will be too late. She will have slipped through our hands. I will not lose another one, you hear me, or it will be your hides that suffers.” He uttered the threat with a grimacing roar that caused them to shiver. They swiftly left his presence.
Master did not take defeat well. Fear was panicking with horror and apprehension of what Master had said. Worry was wringing her claws in terror and fright as she looked about anxiously. This was a nightmare. Silently she grumbled, “If he doesn’t like the way we are doing it, then why doesn’t he do it himself?” She knew the answer. He wanted someone else to blame, if failure came.
Mrs. Salomé was a widow, living in a cold one-room apartment, and dying of cancer. With so little money, she had to choose between food, heat, or medicine. Having never been blessed with children, she depended on others to help her out. Most of her days were spent in bed wrapped in multiple blankets, trying to keep as warm, and as comfortable, as possible. Although her eyes were weak, and she could hardly see to read it, her thoughts were directed at the old threadbare Bible she held in her frail, wrinkled, arthritic hands.
Worry tried to grip her heart, as Mrs. Salomé’s stomach growled from hunger. The pain had been so great that she had spent her money on medicine. She had only gotten enough to take half of what she needed. Worry whispered, “That was the last of your food. What will you do tomorrow?” Fear spoke up, “If the pain gets worse, will you be able to take it?” Sickness tightened her grip, sending new waves of pain and tiredness coursing throughout her body. Depression questioned her, “You are all alone. Why don’t you just take you life and get it over? No one cares.”
She shook her head and said, “You are not thinking clearly, must be the medicine.” Aloud, she started to repeat the 23rd Psalm.
Worry, Fear, Sickness, and Depression all felt a jolt of power shake through their being. “No, don’t think on that! The truth you know will set you free. You are what you think. You can’t think on that Name! It is the only thing we fear more than Master.”
A knock came at the door, and she called him in. A young man entered, saying he had come to check on her. She had never seen him before, but something about him was familiar. He picked up the Bible from her hand and started reading. Her heart stopped, she knew that voice. Suddenly, the man was transformed, into a glorious white light. Taking out a sword, he sent the unwelcome accusers and devourers fleeing. The Spirit spoke softly to her, “It is time to come home, The Master sent me to guide you there.”
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