Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Garden (09/07/06)
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TITLE: Agony Under The Trees | Previous Challenge Entry
By Susan Lower
09/09/06 -
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white globe in the dark haze of night. An orchard of olive trees sprung
forth from the ground reaching out pointed branches, bending and twisting in
different directions, the weight of their fruit pulling them down.
In the mist of the trees walked a man. The fog gathered around his ankles,
and the chill of night closing in around him. A shiver ran deep in the core
of the trees. The snap of a branch prickled in his ears.
Whispers of shadows crept back from the trail of death he left on the path.
The winds whispered, howled through the limbs, the movement of restless
spirits crouched down waiting to spring.
It was here he came to pray, to fellowship with his people, and with God.
Only they had forsaken him, cast him away, abandoned by man kind. The agony
in his screams echoed into the sky.
The shadows shifted, the howling wind died, the silence drumming within his
heart. He sweat drops of blood, tasted the salt of heavy tears upon his
lips, and reached his hands to the sky. He would disturb no one with his
silent cries.
He slumped beneath the trees.
He prayed. He spoke to his Lord, his master, his father who brought him to
earth. The tranquility of this spot gave him only anguish, a misery to
float in, and a grasp of despair.
The deception of man came in the form of a serpent's sharp bite. Wallowing
in sin they crept on their bellies low to the ground. But, what was done,
was done, he could not undo this plight. He stirred from beneath the trees
and continued to walk.
Man would walk with his head above the fog again.
The sound of hushed breath hit the back of his neck, hot and heady, shifting
down his collar. His father walked at his heels, not to protect him, not to
speak, but to walk. A comfort he held deeper than the place where he had
sought refuge.
He reached up plucking a ripened olive from the branch. The pod of peace
among men held in the palm of his hand. He looked towards the visitors
invading his place of retreat. He scuffed his foot dropping a seed of hope
to be planted in the ground.
The Garden of Gethsemane cast him into the arms of the destiny.
The poison of a kiss pungent in his veins, he did not resist when they
carried him away. Where shadows had been, angels wept and dark evil
slithered back into its den. The blood of the moon infected the sun. The
curse of sin dripped bright red at dawn.
The redemption of man had begun.
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I have no critique..it was impressive! Great job!