Monday, August 25, 2014

The Deepening

Here is my entry into this week's Christian Flash Weekly competition. I had up to 200 words to play with, and I used them all. The prompt was Psalm 46:5. Enjoy!

Psalm 46[a]
For the director of music. Of the Sons of Korah. According to alamoth.[b] A song.

1 God is our refuge and strength,
    an ever-present help in trouble.
2 Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
    and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
3 though its waters roar and foam
    and the mountains quake with their surging.[c]
4 There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
    the holy place where the Most High dwells.
5 God is within her, she will not fall;
    God will help her at break of day.
6 Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall;
    he lifts his voice, the earth melts.
7 The Lord Almighty is with us;
    the God of Jacob is our fortress.
8 Come and see what the Lord has done,
    the desolations he has brought on the earth.
9 He makes wars cease
    to the ends of the earth.
He breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
    he burns the shields[d] with fire.
10 He says, “Be still, and know that I am God;
    I will be exalted among the nations,
    I will be exalted in the earth.”
11 The Lord Almighty is with us;

    the God of Jacob is our fortress.

And here is my story:

The Deepening

The earth shakes. Rumbles. Thunders. Roars. Reverberates in the core of my being.

Darkness falls. It begins.

So little time.

Cracks in the cliff. My feet slip on jumping gravel. Over the edge, waters writhe as though boiling.

Roots. I need roots.

I pull the seeds out of my satchel. I grab one, bouncing atop the others, and plant it in the ground. I raise my hand over it and will it to grow. To thrive. Soon the tree towers above me, and unseen below.

I pick out the next one. Plant it. Place my hand over it. It grows tall and strong.

A third doesn’t take. Heartbreak.


Yet another.

A crack shatters my focus. The edge of the cliff falls into the sea.

I need more. More time.

So many seeds left.


Faster now.

Plant them. Grow them. Next.

Tears sting my eyes as I look at the satchel full of seeds. And the lightening of the sky.

I upend the satchel, scattering the seeds, pressing them into the ground. Grow!

The cliff shears off beside me.

No time!

The sun peeks over the horizon. Hundreds of saplings glow at its touch. My grove.

It is finished.

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