Creative Christianity - The Widow's Quest: Part 1

The following piece begins a series based on the passage found in Luke 18:1-8. It presents a fictional account with allegorical aspects which coincide with the parable told by Jesus in those Scriptures. This is a fictional story with a world, and characters built by me. I hope you enjoy it.

Constance made her way through the narrow, muddy streets, thankful it was raining. A constant downpour washed away some of the surface filth making her feel there was a modicum of cleanliness here in the Rift. She kept her head down, the hood of her coat concealing her face. She didn’t want anyone to know where she was going. If they found out she was on her way to the Manor of Minward they would beat her until she was no longer recognizable. The Black Needles didn’t appreciate the people of their ward asking for help. They didn’t need help. They could make it on their own.

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Constance smirked beneath her hood. Neoplo “The Builder” De Caro wasn’t just known for building the run down, decaying ruins the people of the Rift had to live in, but for raising up the crime syndicate that preyed on the very people it was supposed to protect. She had seen enough; enough suffering; enough struggle; enough darkness. If the Lord of Minward was truly just, as she had often heard through her fourty-three years, why didn’t anything change? She was going to find out.

She was going to have to get past a few of De Caro’s check points. He wasn’t fond of people leaving his barony. He had an intricate web of knowledge woven together by his army of groveling lackeys. Constance learned from the time she was very young to blend in. She didn’t want to stand out. Being noticed by Neopolo, meant you became one of his, either that, or you conveniently disappeared. She felt bad for the younger people. De Caro’s appetite wasn’t just reserved for food and drink.

Constance felt bile rise in her throat, but she swallowed it, and clenched her fists. She wasn’t going to become just another of De Caro’s appetizers. She had to have hope; hope that the Lord of Minward would be able to make a change. Maybe he just wasn’t aware of how bad it was in the Rift. As the Lord of an entire city, he must be very busy, and maybe information wasn’t getting through due to De Caro’s influence.

The first check point loomed ahead. Her training in boiler maintenance should be able to get her through this one. She felt the tool bag by her side, then slid her hand into her coat pocket where the forged work papers printed on union stationary, and folded neatly, stayed dry from the down pour.

Image by Anna Veronika from Pixabay

Constance wasn’t alone in this quest. There were a few others who wanted a better life, and knew De Caro’s empire building wasn’t going to benefit them. She and Amos had formed a small group of other “believers”, which now was up to twenty members. They rarely all met together, but stayed in touch using messages sent via trusted couriers. Since the steam movement, and its subsequent advancements in communications, things like sending handwritten messages on foot had become obsolete. Now things were moved along through vast tubular networks both above and below ground pushed along by the compressed power of steam.

Amos had been like a little boy, completely enamored with the advent of the new Steam Era. He loved the machines, the gears, the noise and the power behind something so simple as heated water. She missed him terribly. It was coming up on five years since his death, but grief was relentless where darkness bred, and the Rift was a breeding ground for all that was dank, and miserable.

Image by Peter H from Pixabay

Constance took a deep breath and moved confidently to the first check point. Each check point held a small booth barely big enough for one person, but often occupied by several of Neoplo’s goons. There were three of them in this one. They were chatting and laughing. There were several other people in line.

When her turn came, Constance pulled the papers out of her pocket and quickly shoved them through the small opening in the window.

The man looked down on her, from where he sat in the dry, heated booth.

“You in a hurry there, lass?”

Constance wanted to quip back she was old enough to be his mother, but didn’t reply, just shrugged. She found the best thing to do was not engage. Once you started talking, they became interested. She waited, turning to look at the line that was forming behind her. That was a good thing. The more people waiting, the less time they would take to push you through.

The man stamped her papers and passed them back through the window. As she reached to take them, he wouldn’t let go. She looked up at his scruffy face.

Image by Sammy-Sander from Pixabay

“Smile, Sunshine. Life ain’t so bad. Doesn’t old De Caro take good care of his people?”

Constance swallowed the retort brewing in her gut, gave a shy smile and nodded her head.

“There we go! You have a good night now, lass!”

Constance placed the papers back in her coat pocket. As she walked away she let out a deep breath. One more check point to go.

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!”

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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.”

Relentless - Part 4: The Pursuer - The Prince

He paced the floor, as he often did when things weighed heavily on him. He could feel the cool night air filtering in from the open doors that led to the balcony. He could smell the fire as it flickered brightly, seemingly without a care in the world. There were moments he wished he could be that free, but he cared too deeply.

Image by Jazella from Pixabay

He could not get her off his mind. She was his sister. She had become thus when she gave her heart to his father in the oath; an oath that could not be undone. Why did she not want to return to them? Why did she run away in the first place? Why did she not see how much they cared for her and wanted her to come home? Didn’t she know how her actions tore at his father’s heart? Didn’t she know the shadowed ones were always looking for an opportunity to destroy her?

The more he meditated on it, the faster he paced.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door.

“Come!”

His father entered. His face, always alight with passion and energy, was shadowed with care.

“Father! Do you have news? Has Laney returned?”

His father moved to the plush, oversized chair near the fireplace and fell into it with a sigh.

He quickly took the other chair next to his father and waited. It was never wise to push the King for information. He knew him like he knew himself. The King would speak when he was ready. The fire grew dim before the King finally spoke.

“These next few weeks are critical. While she cannot see it, she has crossed into their territory. They will take advantage of every single bad choice she makes. It will be dangerous for her. I need you to post a small company of the Guard around her. They are to watch and keep the darkness at bay, but not interfere.”

Image by Pete Linforth from Pixabay

“Father! Why can’t we just pull her out? Why must we let this go on, leaving her to her own will; watching her dive deeper and deeper into destruction?”

“You know why, my son. Her will is strong. Almost as strong as yours.” The king smiled gently. “But you used your will to accomplish my purposes. She is not there yet. It must be her choice. To take her back by force will only cause her to rebel more earnestly. Believe me, I know her inside and out.”

The king rose from the chair and he followed suit.

His father grasped his shoulders. “I know how hard this is for you. You have been there living among them as one of their own. You are intimate with their limitations and struggles, but you know I am trustworthy. You placed yourself at my behest, even though it involved great sacrifice.”

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He looked intently into his father’s golden eyes. He saw what he always did. Mercy, patience, forgiveness, and a love so deep it was unfathomable.

He nodded. “I know, father. You are right. I know that she is there by her own choice, but it pains me to see her suffer.”

“You are not alone in that, my son.” He turned to go. “When you are done gathering the Guard, go to Arabella. Together you can pray.”

Relentless - Part 1: The Pursued

The following piece and its subsequent installments are works of fiction created by myself as allegorical of the Christian life. As with any allegory it is a picture or type, more specifically in this case a picture of what our relationship with God might look like. The following parts will be posted monthly on the fourth Thursday as part of my Creative Christianity feature. I hope you will enjoy it.

He was coming for her. She didn’t know how she knew, but she knew. She tried to shake it off, telling herself she was being silly. Why would he still be pursuing her? She had left the smothering confines of his kingdom long ago. She was nothing to him, not any more. She had made sure of that.

Image by Christian_Birkholz from Pixabay

She smiled coyly at the bloke sitting at the end of the bar. He looked like a decent sort and maybe with a bit of change. She could tell by the sunglasses that sat on the top of his finely coiffed hair and the watch that shone loudly on his wrist.

“Buy me a drink?” She used her most innocent, yet seductive purr.

“Sure,” he responded with feigned enthusiasm. He sidled closer to where she sat.

She could tell he’d been here before. Not in this exact pub, but at this point in life. His wife or current lover had jilted him, leaving him for someone with fresher curb appeal. Just like her he was trying to find a small measure of comfort, even if just for a moment.

“I’d ask you what’s a nice girl like you doing in a dive like this, but I think we both know, neither of us is very nice.” His voice sounded tired.

She smiled. “My, my, a philosopher.”

He smirked, the corner of his mouth just barely rising before he lifted his glass in a mock toast towards hers. “How did you know? Was it my snarky response, or my academic attire that gave me away?”

Image by Michal Jarmoluk from Pixabay

She clinked her glass against his. “Definitely, the snark.”

They sank into a puddle of warm conversation, not really talking about anything, but also everything. He told her about his kids; she talked about her dogs. He shared the frustrations of the academic world, and she griped about the long hours she worked in the medical arena.

“So why are you here?” He asked. “You seem like a genuinely descent person? Don’t you have a family, friends, a significant other?”

The alcohol was beginning to make her feel odd. Her whole body was covered with goosebumps.

“Ooo, I feel weird. Hey you didn’t put something in my drink did you?” She looked at the professor, whose face looked concerned. “Hey, bartender! I need some help. I think this guy messed with my drink.”

The lights over the bar and around the pub began to flicker. She looked around the room and suddenly realized she and the bloke were the only ones in the room. She didn’t even see the bar tender, who was normally playing musical glasses as he cleaned and wiped down the counter.

“I feel it too,” the professor said quietly.

“Feel what?”

“A presence.” The man’s voice had become a subdued whisper.

Image by Robert Owen-Wahl from Pixabay

The lights went out, all except the blinking open sign in the window. The pub seemed to fill with moving shadows and sounds. She thought it sounded like many voices whispering, or were they hissing. She knew in her gut she needed to run, but she couldn’t.

“What have you done?” The man’s voice sounded befuddled.

Funny, it made her think of her mother asking her the same question when she had emptied a three pound bag of flour onto the living room floor.

The prof looked at her with wide eyes. “You are one of his. You have his seal.”

She jumped off the stool and away from him. “What? What are you talking about? I don’t belong to anyone! I’m my own person.”

The shadows in the room seemed to grow, almost taking on a three dimensional quality. Were they moving towards her?

“Then why are they here?” The bloke nodded towards the shadows.

“I assure you I don’t have any idea what they are, let alone why they are here.”

“Boy, you really are naive aren’t you. Everyone knows anyone who leaves his kingdom will be followed by the Shadowed Ones.”

Image by Engin Akyurt from Pixabay

She looked from the creeping shadows to the professor. “Well, I highly doubt that everyone has this information seeing as this is the first time I have heard of it.”

The bloke’s face became gentle and kind. “He wants you to come back. He never wanted you to leave. He loves you, Laney.”

Laney felt her jaw drop. “How do you know my name? I didn’t tell you my name.”

“Laney, he will never stop pursuing you. He cannot bear that you have left. He knows exactly who you are and what you need. Return to him.”

Laney shook her head. “NO! I can’t go back. It’s too late….this has to be a nightmare….maybe if I just close my eyes it will all disappear.”

The professor put a hand on her shoulder. Laney felt a different presence. Suddenly, an explosion of light forced her to close her eyes, but a force that could only be described as a tsunami of love swept passed her.

It was gone. She heard the tinkle of glasses, subdued voices and snippets of laughter surround her. Opening her eyes she found herself sitting at the bar. The bartender was busy wiping the counter. There were a few others at the bar, but the snarky professor had vanished.

The bartender approached. “Need another round, Laney?”

Laney looked at her empty glass. She took a deep shuddering breath. “Fill it up!”