Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Fragrance (10/24/05)
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TITLE: The Alley | Previous Challenge Entry
By Shannon Redmon
10/27/05 -
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“Look at her. Pathetic. You don’t want her. She’s filthy and smells like sewage. She will tarnish your reputation.”
The scene enveloped her father. His adoration for her grew stronger each day even though her choices separated them. He sighed as Julia discovered a used syringe.
“Of course, I want her. She is my child.”
“Why would you want a harlot who spends her days and nights selling her body for money to buy drugs? She is no good to you and will never fit into your household, besides you have let her down too many times. She never wants to be a part of your family again.”
Julia leaned against the brick wall and slid down to rest on the pavement. The frustration and pain building within her burst forth in sobs.
“Such a beautiful girl with a broken heart. Abused, mistreated, acting out in anger and self loathing. If only she knew…”
His heart grieved for a chance to rekindle their relationship, but without her cooperation it would not come.
“She would not choose you even if she did know. She’s too far gone, trash that needs to be disposed…worthless, vile and corrupt, performing every act you find detestable.”
Anger flashed in his eyes as He rose to his daughter’s defense. He had been here before, listening to the accuser defame his children. How He hated him.
“I made her in my image for a purpose. All she must do is turn to me and be washed clean.”
“She’ll never do that…she has been hurt to many times by the ones claiming to love You. They turned her away, shunned her when she needed them most, telling lies about her. Her pain runs too deep.”
“My pain for her runs deeper. So deep I gave my son to take her place.”
Julia looked up to find a woman approaching. She tried to rise to her feet and leave but something kept her against the wall. The woman gave her some food and sat down to eat.
“Let me guess, did you send the little woman to tell her about Him?” His voice dripped with sarcasm.
“That is my faithful servant.”
Worry crossed the accuser’s face. He had dealt with faithful servants before.
“Well…like that will do any good. She won’t believe your servant. My demons have bound her tight feeding her heart with lies. I have blinded her eyes to hide the truth.”
A sweet fragrance filled the air transporting the accuser’s thoughts to long ago. He recognized the odor from the altar of incense of the tabernacle. His eyes widened as he turned to face his creator.
“Prayers have been lifted up for her. My people pray the scales will fall from her eyes and I have allowed it. They pray her heart will be softened, ready to receive the gospel and I have heard their cry.”
Another scent pierced the accuser’s nose filling him with dread. The essence of blood stood out among all his memories. He could not mistake the smell for its release had sealed his imminent doom. Thousands of times, through the ages, it grabbed his attention lingering in jungles, in the mountains and on the sands of the beaches. It started small at first spreading from church to church, then from nation to nation, people group to people group. As he searched for his prey, the smell often alerted him to another he had missed. It was the fragrance of Jesus, the only sacrifice needed to please God. How he loathed the sweet aroma. Victory filled the creator’s eyes.
“Ahhh, there she is…my beautiful child. Washed white as snow wearing the sweet fragrance of my son.”
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