Fiction
Part two: the prayer that restores
By Thadd Presley
God would have to understand, if here I begin to tell my side of the story; and, if possible, describe what happened to my two brothers and I, as we made our way into this place; which, glowing red and stinking, just as the sulfur mines in Great Britain, convinced us that this was hell itself; and, if not hell, being every close to hell, it had to be nothing but the anti-chamber to Satan’s lair. If this is, in fact, Satan’s lair, as I am beginning to believe, I told myself, as I shook from the inside out, we were going to be in much trouble; for our weapons, being built just for this journey by God’s priests and ordain to be holy, were almost spent completely and utterly battered; and, if they failed us now, when we need them the most, would all of this be in vain? I had to ask myself this, not including my Salvation, but because of my life; for this journey had taken away most the good years of our lives, even our childhood, which we can barely remember, and made us old men much before our time; God knows, though, that we do this out of necessity and truly believe that this journey has been predestined for our lives and that we have devoted our lives to it completely and without reserve; knowing, that in heaven we should behold Jesus in all His Glory and know that we have done right. In all our hopes, we pray this is true; and, holding our weapons tight in hand come to the bottom of the pit; and fear, striking us as if a stonewall, hampered our movement for a moment allowing us to take inventory of ourselves and of our task at hand. We took this moment to pray, hoping that a prayer, no matter how honest and faithful, could reach God’s ear; for, from a place such as this: a place of misery, so far from earth and the hopes of men, it seemed that a prayed had never, in the history of time, been conceived here and might not know the way to God; for, this place was so formed from hatred and cast with an unholy light, that it would only be thought that a man could not pray here; and, indeed, if he tried, demons might appear and strike him dead. This was a thought that faded fast and never had the time to take hold in our minds because my eldest brother burst forth in praise; holding nothing back, he dropped his sword and threw his hands up to heaven and asked for strength; my youngest, who wore a breast plate formed of shining brass, started to undo the buckles and make himself also defenseless, as if to say that God was our only refuge in a place such as this pit; me, following suit, unbuckled my helm and took it from my head, scared at first, but then, feeling God’s presence abound, knew that we had done right. The prayer lasted but only a moment; but, proved to us that no where, even this place, was not out of God’s reach and not without His protection; so much so, that our weapons and armor shined more brightly than ever before; and, being renewed by God to a state much more Holy than the priest had cast them in our youth. That wall of stone, I spoke of before, lifted from our spirits and we were free to move forward once again, but not without a high regard to caution, I mind you, for evil was still here; but, feeling the spirit of the Lord, we moved freely enough to start again on our task at hand.
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