Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: End Times (02/27/14)
TITLE: Whispering Voices
By Andrea Van Ye
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They’re here, again. I guess it’s good. Why wouldn’t it be? My mom sounds calm. That’s a good sign. I just wish I could hear what they are saying. I can only catch a few words here and there, when I try real hard.
End times. Hard times. War. Bad weather reports. Forever. Jesus.
I don’t really get these end times things that everyone is talking about.
I guess when time comes to an end? Sounds weird and confusing to me. I tried to look it up in my kid’s bible, but that didn’t help. All I read were stories about really old people and Jesus and then, at the end, some letter that some guy wrote about someday there being no more tears and no more sorrow.
I like that part. I’m not much of a crier, but my mom sure is. I think she’ll be happier when she doesn’t cry so much. I guess I’ll be happier too when I don’t have to cry over a skinned knee or when my dog died or hurt feelings. I don’t like it when my feelings get hurt. Yuck!
I do remember reading something about forever, which really doesn’t make sense. How can that be? What exactly is forever? I mean, my parents told me that they’d be married forever. That didn’t last. My grandma told me that she’d love me forever, but she died. Does she still love me even when I can’t see her? And my (former) best friend said she’d be my BFF – Best Friend Forever. Yah, right. That didn’t work out so well, thanks to her new BFF. Forever. I don’t get forever.
Now I hear my mom and the strangers talking about people being divided. Divided people? That’s creepy. I hope that I don’t get divided up into different parts. I like being whole. And new bodies? That’s weird, too. I guess, for the most part, I mean, there are a few things I’d like to change about myself. I’d rather not have big feet or skinny legs. I hope my new body is colorful. I hope I have a rainbow colored body with pink hair and blue arms and a purple stomach. That would be cool.
Now they’re talking about fighting, fighting against an enemy? Who is the enemy? I’m scared. Should I be scared? Wait a minute. These strangers want to fight with love? How do we fight with love? That doesn’t seem like a very strong weapon. And fight with the Word of God? I’m pretty sure using a bible for a weapon isn’t going to get them too far. Maybe that’s not what they mean?
Wait a minute? I know those voices! That’s Mrs. Jones from the corner gas station. I like the way she gives me a piece of peppermint every time I come in the store, and that’s the deep voice of Mr. Carl. He’s our mailman. Everyday, he comes, except Sundays, of course. He is pretty nice. Doesn’t hit any squirrels on the road when he drives (at least that I’ve seen).
I’m getting tired now, Diary. I’ll try and stay up tomorrow night and write some more. Maybe I’ll figure out these end times. I need to go and talk to Jesus for a few minutes, and see if I can sort this all out. Hope He’s still up. What am I talking about? He’s always up!
The little girl tiptoed quietly back to her room, slipped her diary back in to its hiding place, snuggled up under her blankie and went to bed. She prayed and asked Jesus to help her understand what the whispering voices said, but most of all to just help her get through these hard and confusing end times.
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