Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Fearful (08/23/07)
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TITLE: Sand, Stones and Second Chances | Previous Challenge Entry
By Loralee Scott
08/28/07 -
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The sound of the door being kicked open, jolted her back to reality as her eyes shot open to see a crowd of men with leering grins of condemnation on their faces. James jumped to his feet, trying to shield her from their lecherous stares. They pushed past, knocking him to the floor and dragged her out into the dusty street as they spit on her and called her vile names. She could hear James, calling her name and begging them to have mercy. The fear and panic in his voice mixed with the jeers and taunts of the crowd that grew larger as they dragged her down the stone-scattered street to the center of town.
Images flashed through her mind as she stumbled forward. She could see herself as a little girl, walking down this road behind her father and stopping to pick up an especially shiny stone to take back home. She remembered how her brothers would race down this road and scoop up handfuls of stones for target practice at unlucky sparrows.
Searing pain hurled her back into the moment as they threw her to the ground and the stones tore into her skin. She was grateful for the cool, damp earth against her cheek as she lay there, not moving. She knew what was coming next. It was what mothers used to terrify their daughters with. It was what they did to adulterers.
Adulterer. The word seemed so foreign to her. Always the obedient daughter, the obedient wife. Married off to a man 40 years her senior. She was 14. He was short and bald, with breath that always smelled like garlic and leeks. They had never had children. He blamed that on her. He blamed everything on her. Her life soon became an endless blur of endurance, until James.
They weren’t prepared to fall hopelessly, passionately in love. They never intended to…she heard herself cry out in pain before she realized she owned the pain. She dared to lift her head up from the dirt to see a crowd, all holding stones. Fear like she had never known suddenly engulfed her. It blocked out the sunlight like some monstrous beast, crushing her in it’s embrace. She couldn’t breathe. There was a deafening roar ringing in her ears. She thought it was the crowd screaming for her to die as they lifted the stones in the air ready to throw. She squeezed her eyes shut, every muscle taught, waiting for the barrage.
Then she heard his voice. With one sentence he silenced the mob as he stepped in front of her. Her heart was pounding too loudly to hear what he was saying. She simply lay there, in his shadow, trying to breathe.
She heard them before she saw them: stones, dropping like granite raindrops into the dirt while this stranger knelt and wrote in the sand in front of her. She held her breath, not daring to hope. Slowly, reluctantly, she saw their feet walking away; until finally, an eternity later, she was alone with this man.
He approached her and gently lifted her chin: “Woman, where are your accusers?” Her eyes dared to lift their gaze from his sandaled feet. “They are not here, Lord.” Her response was barely audible. Taking her hand, he slowly lifted her to her feet. Speaking gently as if to a small child, yet still with that unmistakable authority, he responded: “Neither do I condemn thee, Go and sin no more.”
“Grandma! Look at me!” The toddler’s voice called to her from under the olive tree. Startled, she smiled and applauded her first-born grandson’s antics. She had been dreaming, again; but the dream eluded her, just out of grasp. She looked down to see the object she had been clutching, nestled in the folds of her dress. She picked it up and uttered a tearful “thank you”. It was one, small stone, rubbed smooth over decades of a life lived in gratefulness for second chances.
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