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This flash fiction piece was written for the Christian writing group I'm a part of on Scribophile. The contest was set up in honor of February, the 'love' month and the theme was to write a story that shows God;s love in 300-500 words. So here's my piece:
Kneel to Stand (495 words)
“I’ll wait.” He stood some feet away. Calm, relaxed, face pulsing with light.
I pounded the floor with a fist. He didn’t get it! He couldn’t have, not after everything I’d told Him. The anger I’d felt when I’d thrown myself at His feet, surged. I cried, yelled, threw dust on my head, and when that didn’t move Him, stomped around, as though pounding the ground could drive my truth deeper into His understanding.
Why couldn’t He see?
When I finally calmed down, I realized I’d wandered away from Him. Now, He appeared as a faint glow in the distance.
But so what? There’s no way I would do what He wanted. Forgive? Let Him handle it? Who in their right mind would do that? I was hurt. Humiliated! That person deserved—
“I’ll wait.”
Though far away, His voice cut into my thoughts as though He were right beside me.
“No,” I managed to say.
He said nothing. Presumably, waiting.
I knew He would wait me out. He always did. These exchanges had become routine : anger, tantrum, repent, forgive. I knew exactly how it would end.
And it always began with me.
On cue, my Self barged in. Frantic, she waved her shadowy arms before me, shouting at the top of her lungs, shoving and shaking me, doing whatever she could to break the sequence that had begun the instant He’d spoken those simple words.
“Snap out of it! You can’t go back. It’s too far!”
“It’s not, actually.” I flicked a hand. “Just a few feet away.” It was true. The moment Self appeared, He had began walking to meet us.
Self panicked further. “You see that light He’s bringing with Him? It’ll expose us! It’ll peel back the layers of hurt, bitterness, and self-righteousness you wrapped us in. You did it to protect us, remember?”
I looked at my Self. “Once the layers come off, you’ll be exposed and I’ll be free.”
“You’ll be exposed too!” Self screamed. “We are the same!”
“No, we’re not. We are one, but we are not the same.”
He arrived. He stood behind my Self.
“Look, Self, I’m tired of this. It’s like you want to punish me, or something. Do you want me to feel guilty?”
“How else should we feel? There’s no way we can measure up to His standards.”
“Isn’t there?” I looked past Self, and it was a moment before my eyes adjusted to His light.
His standards were high, the highest, actually. But I remembered how to meet them. I pushed past Self and knelt before Him.
“I’m sorry. I’ve behaved childishly.”
“You are a child,” He said. “My child.”
Self cut off a strangled scream. Defeated, she slunk back into place under my Lord’s feet.
I took His extended hand. It was warm, familiar. I didn’t protest when He drew me to His side.
“Welcome back, daughter,” He said, with a knowing smile. “Next time, don’t wait so long.”
Copyright @2017 by Delia Talent