Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Eternity (03/10/11)
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TITLE: Finders Reapers | Previous Challenge Entry
By Nancy Bucca
03/17/11 -
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Meanwhile my younger brother, "The Slacker," has been sweating all day trying to nail a job that - let's face it, he simply isn't cut out for. My bad.
I still remember Abba's exhortation pouring down my stubborn neck like oil down Aaron's beard.
Time is fleeting,
Do the math,
Save them from
The grapes of wrath.
"There's a regular cumulo-nimrod piling up over the back forty," he warned me, "riding the twister of a Captain Ahab. "You best make fast tracks before that old man grump-whacks you into changing your mind. The poison from his bitter herb word garden has sidetracked many a would-be harvester. Beware. Eternity's at stake. Remember your cousin Naboth."
"Sure," I said, "I'll be there." After following my heart a bit, I added under my breath, figuring no one would notice.
Time is fleeting,
Do the math,
Save them from
The grapes of wrath.
Five hours later, fed up with feeding pigs, I rushed towards the vineyard, stepping to the reproof of the dipping sun. "It's already the tenth hour. Two left to go. Once night falls, no man can work."
That's when I saw the scarecrow, swaying beneath the shadow of our wailing wall, its body bent like a crumpled leaf over a rusty sickle.
Spurred by cat-killing curiosity, I headed that direction, and, once there, reached out a furtive hand toward the rumpled sack cloth hiding what looked to be some sort of stick or shovel.
Suddenly, without any warning, the figure turned upon me, showing itself to be, not a scarecrow, but a wrinkled old man decked in filthy rags. He had a face like tattered burlap, a nose like a vulture's beak, and eyes as black as the bottomless pit. Upon his bony head perched a mantel whose flapping wings spread a fine black dust into the air. He looked like lukewarm death.
"Nice day for a drizzle," he said, spreading his smoking cloak about my shaking shoulders. I felt a certain gloomy comfort settle over me and began to feel just the slightest bit sorry for myself.
Time is fleeting,
Do the math,
Save them from the
Grapes of wrath.
Just then Abba turned the volume up. I could hear the screams of hell, and I told him so.
"Oh, they're just having fun," said the old man. "Hell is a regular roller coaster of a party."
"No, it's not," I protested. "It's a lake of unquenchable fire, with devils and worms and all sorts of gross stuff."
"Nonsense," sneered the old man, teeth rattling like dead man's bones inside a rotted chest. "Hell's not so bad. And even if it was, would the Master really condemn good people to it? Take the deceived head hunters, for example. They never murdered anyone. Or the devout Muslims bombing buildings for Allah's sake. They've hearts of gold. Or all the sincere Buddhists and Hindus laying their lives down for the sake of Nirvana? They're as unselfish as the day is long. Just following their hearts, like the good book says."
Time is fleeting,
Do the math,
Save them from the
Grapes of wrath.
Again I protested I must go.
"Ah, but what's your hurry?" asked he, swaying heavily to his left as he leaned upon his sickle. "God's sovereignty holds that few find the narrow path. He's a hard man, you see, who reaps where he has not sown and harvests where he has not scattered seed. Why not set your talent down and rest a spell? You deserve it."
Captain Ahab nearly lost me with those words. Sick of his bitter herbs, I told him, "Finders keepers, losers weepers."
Here I am now, Father, ready to work. Eternity is at stake.
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I was a bit confused at times, but that may just be me. :)
I did catch the general gist of the story, though, and I liked it!