Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Purposefulness (Purpose in Life) (05/25/06)
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TITLE: THE GAZE | Previous Challenge Entry
By Stefanie Noonan
05/31/06 -
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Maggie, exhausted, curled tightly into a ball pressing into the foot of the tree. She welcomed the stench of the decomposing figs that lay scattered about her. Their fermenting putrid odor would repel the renowned thieves who strolled this dirt path guaranteeing a solace evening.
Just one more night until her troubles were over and her children would be provided for long after her departure. She pleaded silently for strength to endure.
Instinctively, her hand tightened its grasp on the small vial tucked safely within the tattered threads of her garments. Her coarse damp dreadlocks hung heavily providing little protection from encumbering darkness that crept a thick canopy about her.
Sleep antagonized Maggie who drifted in and out, waking occasionally to the notion that something was not quite right.
The air that earlier swirled about her now lay still in an eerie calm as though a great storm lay brooding on the horizon. It blanketed her aching bones. She waited warily but nothing came. She drank in the breeching dawn. Her eyes fastened on the ashen sky now bordered in beauty with a hint of pink.
She did not hear the thud of approaching feet.
Braced against the trunk, her held her breath so as not to be exposed.
“You killed it!” The gruff one spouted.
“I simply cursed it.” The gentle voice like the dew of the morning replied.
“What of this one Master? Will you kill it too?” Another voice quavered.
How many were there? What were they doing? Maggie lay frozen. She felt his gaze and dared not look up but feigned unconsciousness hoping, waiting.
“Not this tree. This tree yet has life.”
Maggie felt his words pierce. His sweet breath drifted downward.
The troupe of travelers’ sandaled feet pounded up dust as they faded into the horizon.
Unraveling from her cocoon of fear, she gasped. The tree to her left stood stripped and naked. Its once green leaves lay fallen, their edges curled and brown. Yesterday she would’ve resented the tree but now she must know...who was this man that even the trees obeyed?
“Not today! I’ve planned this day in such detail. I cannot waver.” Her fingers clenched the vial.
But Maggie couldn’t forget his gaze that propelled her forward.
“I got her!” The stocky man towered over her pinning her arms tightly.
Maggie struggled futilely.
“Hurry it up!” Demanded his lookout.
“Shucks. She’s a lady of the night. She ain’t got nothin’ remotely of value.”
“Check ‘er hand.” His partner grinned cunningly.
“You hiding somethin’ from us Tramp?” He taunted Maggie.
The vial tumbled to the earthen floor.
The road floated upwards as Maggie dazed and dizzy, ebbed forward bent on conquest to restore her stolen treasure.
The journey felt long but she surmised it had only been hours for the sounds and smells of morning hung in the air. She trudged invisibly through the town, which seemed jointly purposed, working towards some unspoken agenda.
CLUNK, CLUNK, the blacksmith hammered the heavy nails.
Scrape, Scrape, the carpenter carved the heavy beam.
Coins jingled as the savory aroma of baking bread danced against her nostrils.
Even the roosters roaming about seemed bent on a secret mission rehearsing their crowing.
“THIEF!” Screamed Maggie with her last ounce of strength.
The startled men froze.
“GIVE ME MY VIAL THIEVES!” She hissed unrelentingly startling even herself.
“We’re not thieves! Believe us!” Implored the lookout to the guards in the crowd.
“He told me to steal it!” Yelped the bulky one drained of color before quickly thrusting the vial into Maggie’s hands.
“Crucifixion is the penalty of thieves!” Gruffed the guard.
A chill went up Maggie’s spine. She felt “the gaze” and knew the man from the grove was here. She lifted her eyes as they locked.
“Do you know who this woman is?” Spat his horrified companion.
“I…I am Maggie from Magdalene.” She stammered.
“I Am.” He echoed smiling, touching the edge of her soiled long hair.
Maggie followed distantly as they passed the hill shaped like a skull. She watched intrigued as a shadow of sadness washed over him. He was heavy and burdened but yet driven forward.
She checked her priceless perfume in her alabaster vial. A sweet waft drifted upward becoming trapped in her hungry soul. What she had intended to be her last day of life had become her first. Maggie purposed in her heart and knew what she must do.
Nothing would impede her mission.
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I was thrown off a bit by the name "Maggie," which suggests a different time and place. And when you have dialog tags, you don't need to capitalize the first word of the tag. Like this:
“Hurry it up!” demanded his lookout.
This was a creative approach to a Biblical story, and I liked it a lot.