Relentless - Part 5: Rock Bottom

“Laney! What are you doing?”

Laney heard her boyfriend’s voice, but she couldn’t remember where they were. Were they at home? Where were the dogs? She suddenly felt Steve shaking her.

“Laney, what did you do? You killed our baby…my baby…” Steve shook her harder. “Open your eyes, damn it! Look at me!”

Laney forced her eyes to open. She tried to smile, but her face didn't seem to want to respond to what her brain was telling it to do.

Image by 0fjd125gk87 from Pixabay

“…hey, babe…what…time is it?”

Steve shoved her back into the couch. She usually didn’t make it that far after a binge.

“I’m done, Laney. You are on your own. That’s really what you wanted anyway, wasn’t it. You aren’t selfish, you are lost.”

Steve left, slamming the door.

Laney tried to say something, but nothing would come out. She tried to sit up, but she was so hungover she knew that wouldn’t be a good idea.

What was his problem anyway?

“It was my choice…” The words rang out into the empty room sounding like a hollow bell. “Myles? Sophie?”

Image by Linda Crouse from Pixabay

“It was my choice…” she muttered as she fell back asleep.

When she woke some time later it was dark. Not merely the darkness of night, but an inky, thick blackness that seemed to suck the breath out of her. Laney felt paralyzed, but she knew it wasn’t the alcohol and drugs, this was the paralysis of fear.

“Was it your choice?” A smooth voice whispered out of the blackness.

Laney forced herself to sit up. She knew her eyes were open, but why couldn’t she see anything. She felt the fear, like a leggy spider crawling up the back of her neck.

“My body! My choice!” She barked out the words like an angry, caged beast.

“My, my, so adamant, so angry, so vulnerable.” The voice taunted her, like a calm, stoic bully.

“Go away! Leave me alone!”

“But where would the fun be in that? My friends and I have been watching you, following you, waiting for you. You may have the King’s seal, but we can still make your life miserable. That’s really what you want anyway, isn’t it? To be miserable?”

Laney thought the voice sounded strangely like Steve’s.

“You are pathetic. You sold those dumb, four legged beasts to support your growing addiction, and then, last week you sold your own fetus.”

The voice began to giggle. The giggle turned into maniacal, stark raving hysteria. That voice was joined by another, and another, and another, until Laney was sure the laughter was coming from inside her head.

Image by Rebecca Martell from Pixabay

She covered her ears and dropped to her knees on the floor her screams becoming the crazed harmony to the unhinged laughter.

“You aren’t real! You’re just some sort of delusion from the alcohol and drugs. Go away!”

The laughing slowed, but it was replaced by whispers that sounded, oddly, like the hissing of a snake. Laney thought she had finally taken too many hallucinogenics, that her brain would no longer be able to tell the difference between the trip and reality. But then the voice started speaking again.

“I’m just a delusion? A monster of your own making? Tell me, Laney, what would the perfect enemy look like? A man with a funny little mustache who commanded armies and almost took over the world? Or how about a man who took his lovers home, then killed and ate them for dinner? No, no, no, my dear girl. I am perfection. You see I have convinced the world that I don’t exist. I can go about my business of manipulating and destroying lives without anyone ever being the wiser. You have talked yourself into believing a lie, and you even have the King’s seal. All of humanity is pathetic…”

Laney heard what the voice was saying, but she couldn’t make sense of it. “Go away!”

“Come now, Laney. The party is just getting started. You know what, I am a rather busy Being, why don’t we just get this over with. Get that bottle of pills that you have hiding in the cereal box in the cupboard. If you take them all, it should be over in just a few hours.”

Image by PublicDomainPictures from Pixabay

Laney gasped. How did he know about the pills? She smirked. Well, of course he would. He was her made up delusion.

“Why not,” she said as she struggled to crawl across the floor towards the kitchen.

“That’s right, Laney. You have nothing left to live for. No dogs, no family. Even your boyfriend, who had bought a ring, left you.”

Laney stopped. “Steve, bought me a ring?”

She felt something begin to twist inside of her. She ignored it and kept moving in the direction of what she thought might be the kitchen. She had to get those pills.

The voice dug in again. “He wanted to marry you. Can you believe he loved you? You made the right choice, you know. You would have never been a good mother.”

“He loved me?”

Image by aleksandra85foto from Pixabay

“Oh, come on Laney! You know he was only marrying you because of the baby. But, even that you have thrown away…the pills are waiting my dear. They will make all of this go away.”

Laney was frozen in a prostrate position when suddenly a thought whispered through her mind…you are loved with an everlasting love…you are the daughter of the King…you matter.

Laney touched her forehead to the floor. “Forgive me, my King…my Lord…my Savior. Rescue me.”

“Do you really think He’s going to listen to your prayers now? After all the weeks, and months, and years of your rebellion?” The voice was becoming angry.

Laney felt the air begin to move. It started like a soft summer breeze and built into a gale force wind. Her hair was whipping around her face. She was sure she could hear thunder, and the hissing and whispering grew tumultuous. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she couldn’t breath.

I’m going to die, she thought.

“ENOUGH!”

Image by Design n Print from Pixabay

Immediately the darkness was overtaken by a beautiful light. A light so warm and comforting that it caused Laney to weep. She felt her heart, iced over from so many years of pride and rebellion crack. From within it, began to seep all the darkness that she had allowed to consume her life. She cried and cried. As she remembered all the choices, her choices, she felt something like steel wool begin to scrub away the grime of manipulation and deceit.

Time passed. Her tears ebbing and flowing from her place on the floor, then she heard a different voice. She looked up.

“Laney.”

All around her home stood warriors in shining armor of light. Each one nodded at her, their faces full of compassion and joy. In front of her stood the elderly man from the park and at his feet sat Myles and Sophie. He made the motion and the two pups bolted for Laney smothering her in doggie kisses.

Laney couldn’t speak she was so overwhelmed. Then she noticed the young woman standing next to the man. She was shining, like the warriors in their armor. She came to Laney and knelt down beside her. She touched Laney’s cheek where tears had moistened it.

“Mom, I love you, and you are going to be okay.”

Tended Dreams

This is a fiction piece by Amy D. Christensen

So many coffins! Why were there so many coffins?

Image by Lisa Yount from Pixabay

The One who stood beside me looked out over the vast area filled with every manner of death box imaginable. There were pine boxes, reminding me of the Old West, golden sarcophagi, dark cherry wood polished until it shimmered and many, many more. It would take days to count how many coffins filled the valley: literally a valley of dry bones. Here and there I could see beings of light, I assumed were angles, tending to the coffins.

“Who are they,” I asked looking up into his dark eyes.

They were brown, but seemed to be edged with golden light; a light that came from deep within His heart.

He smiled at me, though I could tell there was a deep sadness behind that smile. “Not who, but what?”

“I do not understand.”

Image by Jackson David from Pixabay

He took my hand, squeezing it firmly. It felt as though just a bit of strength tingled from his fingers into mine filling my whole body with warmth. It was as though someone had just draped a warm blanket over my shoulders.

“These coffins hold dreams.”

“Dreams?”

“Come. Let’s walk and I will show you.”

I was afraid. I had always been afraid to be around death. I never liked going to funerals and walking through grave yards was fine during the day when the sky was blue, but when the sun went down and the mists began to creep along the ground, no thank you! I planted my feet firmly.

He turned to look at me. “It will be alright. You are with me, and I would never let anything hurt you. Not any more.”

His eyes took in the depth of my soul. It was then I knew. He knew everything about me and yet, it was completely obvious how much He loved me.

“Come.” He smiled again and I let myself be pulled along.

We moved in among the elongated boxes and I couldn’t help but admire how intricately beautiful some of them were. Many were very simple and completely unadorned, while others had been carved and embellished with decorative swirls and etchings, some of which looked to be letters in various languages.

He stopped before a dark box whose wood was so polished and smooth I could see myself in it.

Image by composita from Pixabay

“This one belongs to a man who took great pride in his work. He built his own business from the ground up. When he met his wife, he knew he wanted to have a family. He wanted many children, hoping that a few of them would one day carry on the family business. His wife died in child birth. He never remarried and eventually sold the business.”

He moved me along to another box a little ways away. This one was much more ornate than the last one. It was covered in beautiful scroll work.

Image by JamesDeMers from Pixabay

“This one belongs to a woman who married young. She had dreams of becoming an archeologist, but her husband said her place was in the home with the children. She had a brood, and when there were no more children to be birthed, her husband left her for a younger woman.”

“How terrible!”

The next coffin he stopped before was smaller. Not the size of a child, but not a full adult either. It was white and decorated with pretty pink and yellow flowers.

Image by S. Hermann & F. Richter from Pixabay

“The girl whose dreams reside here was only 16 when a drunk driver took away her ability to walk. She wanted to be a dancer hoping that sad people would find joy in the movement of music and dance.”

He stretched out his hand and rubbed the top of the pretty box, as if remembering.

I felt my eyes sting with tears. He began to walk again and I pulled my hand from His.

“Why are you showing me these things?”

He did not speak. I could see tears in his own eyes. He held out his hand.

Once again, I placed mine in his and we walked for a while in silence.

The next box we stopped in front of was rather simple and unassuming. In fact as we had walked it occurred to me there were many coffins like this. They weren’t plain and simple like an Old West pine box, nor were they richly adorned. They were, in fact plain and unnoticeable.

“Why are there so many like these?”

He looked out over the valley, turning his head from one side to another. “These are the dreams of mothers for their children; wives for their marriages; grandmothers for their grandchildren. As is so often the case these go unnoticed. Mothers go about their lives, most often never asking for the help they need, the desires that go unmet and the thanks they so deserve. Unlike many, who have one major dream of what they want to do with their lives, mothers, wives and grandmothers often have the most dreams and, as you can tell by these coffins, so very many of them must be laid to rest.”

Image by Richard Mcall from Pixabay

“Well, if that’s the case, why aren’t their coffins more ornate and noticeable? Why are they so plain?”

“Because their desires were simple. They wanted their children to grow up without damage and problems. They wanted their husbands to talk to them. They wanted their families to get along…simple things really, yet so important. Unfortunately, very few take into account the dreams of a mother. They love her and are glad for her, but they rarely get to know the woman that she is underneath all that she does: the writer, the singer, the artist, the leader, the warrior. So very many dreams that had to die.”

“But why?” I was beginning to feel upset. “Why should they have to give up their dreams?”

“Because they knew what was really at stake. They knew that the most important part of life was relationship. They were willing to give up everything else, so that relationships with their children, husbands and grandchildren could continue. You see life is not about the dreams that come true, it is about the relationships that are built, or abandoned, along the way.”

He stepped away from the box. “Come. I have one last thing to show you.”

Again, he took my hand and once again I felt the mild tingle of His strength moving me forward and warming me.

The sight we came to next took my breath away. A sea of tiny, infant sized coffins, each adorned with a small, flickering candle, floated silently on a huge glassy lake. The light on each coffin produced a shimmering reflection in the surrounding water. It was all at once beautiful and horrifying.

Image by Hans Braxmeier from Pixabay

He sensed my discomfort and putting his arm around my shoulders, pulled me close.

“Even a baby has dreams. In the world as you know it, when babies are born they do not have language, but the truth is, all that are conceived have the imprint of heavenly language. It is in this realm that they dream. They dream of small things, but still they are dreams. Smiles, green grass, blue skies, their mother’s face, their father’s laugh, the feeling of human touch, but alas, none of these dear ones ever got to realize their dreams.”

I gasped, as the sea of coffins seemed to go on forever. Tears slipped down my face.

He turned me towards him.

“You have dreams too. I showed you all these things because I want you to know that each and every dream you have is important to me. Each and every dream that you must give up, I will know about and I will tend to. That is how much I love you!”

* * * * * * *

Often, when I write a piece like this, I feel it is God giving me a way to express my own feelings and thoughts, but in the form of a story. An allegory tells a story in the form of imagery. I hope that the picture I painted above shows you, that Jesus loves you with an everlasting love and that every single dream you have achieved, and every single desire you have had to give up, He is aware of and He holds in the palm of His hand. I write, because I need to remember this, and maybe you do too.

You are deeply loved!