Faithful: Chapter 3

Here’s the third chapter! I really love this one, but once again, if anything is confusing or could be misunderstood, tell me. Enjoy:

It was the seventh day of the celebration. Each day was filled with renewed enthusiasm for the feasts, but the last day, the seventh day, was meant to be the most grand, the most beautiful, and the most exquisite of them all. The planning had to be perfect. Everything had to go exactly as planned. Ohobilah was almost as busy as the day of her wedding. She had to make sure the chef knew what to prepare and who to prepare for. Allergies had to be accounted for, as well as particular tastes. If a single tablecloth was stained, Ohobilah had to make sure that it was replaced with a matching one. Charts for seating were spread all over her mind.

Ohobilah spotted a bench on the stone wall of the long hallway and walked quickly towards it. Maybe she could catch a moment of rest before the final arrangements. She sat down and sighed contentedly, smoothing out her dress and peering out of the thin slit of a window at the colorful flying banners as the royal guard marched into the streets for a parade. She could hear the faint stamping of feet as they stepped in time to a drum barely audible from here.

A soft padding rhythm interrupted Ohobilah’s break. She stood up to face the intruder.

Timna rounded the corner and stopped suddenly. “Oh! There you are, my lady. I’ve been looking for you. Lord Michael is here to speak with you. He’s waiting in the council room.”

Ohobilah sighed exasperatingly. “Thank you, Timna.” The slave curtseyed and her master began walking in the opposite direction. She halted, a few paces past Timna and asked over her shoulder, “Why does he want to see me? Did he say?”

“He didn’t. I asked him, but he just said that he wished to speak with you.”

“Thank you.” Ohobilah continued walking.

The council room was on the top floor of the palace. It was comfortably furnished and brightly lit. Many pieces of exquisite art were displayed there to impress the lords who met to clear up issues of law with the king. Two large wooden doors, painted in gold and green, stood open into the hallway. Ohobilah peered in curiously. Michael was lounging on a couch, gingering a glass of wine tentatively, his eyes directed away from her.

Ohobilah cleared her throat just loudly enough to get his attention. Michael’s head flew to the doorway where she stood, blonde hair flying around his face and his long earrings smacking his face. “Ohobilah!” He strode over to her, taking the queen’s hand and kissing it with a deep bow.

“Michael!” She smiled warmly.

“Happy anniversary to you and the king,” he said, embracing her. “May your happiness in love last forever.”

“Thank you, but why did you call me here?”

“I know you’re very busy, and I must be interrupting terribly important duties,” his tone began to sound cautious. “But there’s something I feel is nessecary for me to say.” Ohobilah nodded encouragingly. “Why don’t we sit down?” Michael gestured to the couch and waited for her before taking a seat himself.

“I hope you will not think, after hearing me speak, that I say this out of hate or prejudice. In fact, what I say is out of the purest love, for your husband and for you. I say this to secure your happiness, not to destroy it: I heard you questioning the king on the day of your anniversary of Lord —- and his rebellion.” He took a deep breath and looked into her eyes earnestly. “Do not grieve the king so. He will do as you ask, but it did distress him, recalling the memories. You claimed to wish to help him bear such burdens, however, and I beg you not to misunderstand, remember where you came from. My lord saved you, not you him. He loves you, and let that be enough. Rely on him. Do his will for you. Do not rely on yourself, but trust him.

“Ohobilah, you could not save yourself from your blood. I was with my king when he found you. Listen when I say, without him you are in the same place, struggling in your own blood.

“But he told you to live! So live in him and do as he asks, out of love. Do not grieve him any longer with thoughts of substance outside him or the betrayal of a friend.” Michael stopped short and looked into her down cast eyes. Ohobilah just played with her hands, silent.

After a few minutes, in a small, nervous voice, she said, “I-I’m sorry, Michael. You’re right…I…I forget so quickly. I do not deserve the life I have, and I cannot earn it.” A tear fell onto her skirt. “Thank you…for reminding me.”

Michael placed a hand on her arm. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to distress you. He loves you, still. No matter what. I just hate to see either one of you unhappy.”

She stood up quickly, wiping a tear with one hand and lifting her skirt to curtsy with the other. “Thank you, Michael. Goodbye.” Ohobilah rushed out the door.

She was ashamed, as she strode through the corridors. How could she forget her place to the extreme that Michael had to remind her? How could she cause her savior such grief with her unrealistic presuppositions? Her hair was falling out of its tight pins. It hung loose around her face, bouncing in time to her steps. A few locks stuck to her tear-wetted cheeks stubbornly. Gratefully she met no one on her way down the long flight of stairs, or to the gardens. Everything was silent.

The garden was in full bloom, all the flower bushes framing fences and fountains as a few vines of roses and morning glories stretched out a few green sprouts to climb up them and spread out their leaves attractively. There was the bench where the king had given her his gift. He’d looked so happy, so joyful. Why would she ever disturb that joy?

Ohobilah sat down heavily on the bench and tried unsuccessfully to wipe her face clean. She sniffed with a huff and stopped trying, letting her hands fall onto her lap. She glanced around the garden blurrily and sobbed. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” There wasn’t anything for her to do. She couldn’t apologize. The king was too busy to see her right now. Even if he wasn’t, the queen knew she couldn’t face him. She couldn’t continue work on the feast; she was a mess. The only thing to do was sit and wait for the crying to stop and the shame to peter away into nothingness.

Ohobilah heard a snap break through the steady flow of bird song. Heavy, clomping steps continued, the sound of boots against cobblestone littered with the crisp, dead remains of fall rustling through the air. With renewed energy, the queen dabbed at her face hurriedly, sniffing and praying it was just the gardener or Timna, looking for her.

A man dressed in drab brown sauntered into view. The knees of his trousers were stained a mossy green and a few twigs and leaves clung to the material, as well as to his long hair, tied back with a black ribbon.

He flashed a smile at the now-standing queen. “Hello. How do you do?”

Ohobilah stood stock straight, staring at him without a word. It was the man. He had the same smile, the same glint in his eye. This was the noble who had caused the king so much pain. “Are you Lord —-?”

He looked confused. “You must be mistaking me with someone else. My name, my fair lady”—and here he smiled again, bowing and taking her hand—“is Lord —- (some name besides what the king told Ohobilah).” He finished his introduction by brushing his lips softly against the back of her reluctant hand.

She took a step back, pulling away. “But I’ve seen you before…at my anniversary. I know it’s you! Why are you lying?”

“My dear,” the man took a seat at the bench, nonchalantly gazing at the flowers and putting his arm up. “You must be terribly misinformed. I intend you no harm. You needn’t be afraid. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.” He looked up at her again. “Sit down, my dear. You look tired.”

Ohobilah didn’t know what to do. How can you accuse a man who refuses to believe you? Maybe the king was wrong. Maybe he mistook this man for the noble who betrayed him. Perhaps he wasn’t dangerous at all. “I’ll remain standing, thank you. What are you doing in my gardens?”

“I used to live here. Surely this isn’t how you greet others who you meet in your house? I thought you were known for hospitality in this dinky little kingdom of yours.”

“You sound as if you’ve been outside it. What is there besides this comparatively small kingdom? Isn’t our king the ruler of all civilization? I have been told all outside of this is Wilderness, dark and dreary, however huge it is.”

“My dear,” and here Lord —- leaned forward with an intense, focused smile. “There is so much more besides this. There are worlds you’ve never even dreamed of. I have seen them all. Whatever these people have told you is a lie. I will show you the truth.”

Coffeeshophorrors

 

Faithful: Chapter Two

So, this chapter is where my story gets iffy. I talk about very controversial things (in allegory of course) and I honestly would like to know if you see anything doctrinally incorrect. Please tell me. Although, if you don’t back it up with scripture than I might not listen. I want this story to be as true as it can be, so you guys should help me out! Here’s the chapter:

Chapter Two

The dining hall was brightly lit, filled with the noise of gaudily dressed lords and their ladies as they shoved back their chairs to stand up and greet an old friend or sit down and have another sip of wine. Jewels flashed around, folded into the silk cloaks and dresses as they maneuvered genially through the crowd. There were smiles spreading across everyone’s red faces as, in the center of a long square of tables, a psalmist began singing, plucking his harp experimentally and grinning at the crowd.

The king and his ward were grandly seated at the center of the table facing the door. Timna stood at Ohobilah’s side, refilling her wine glass whenever the bottom of the cup was visible through the dark red liquid. The speech was over, and a line of servants issued from the door, holding silver trays of pastries, meats, and stews. They set them down on every table, piling the food on everyone’s plates.

Through the noise, Ohobilah turned to the king with a question. “My lord,” she said. He turned to her with a smile. “I saw a man at the celebration, dressed in black. You seemed to recognize him. Who is he?” The smile slowly faded as she talked.

“It isn’t the kind of story one usually shares at a feast, my lady.”

“I could tell from your expression earlier,” she commented dryly. “But I want to know. No one will overhear it, if that is your worry.” She gestured to the crowd. “A crowded room is safer than a solitary one, if the occupants are gay enough.”

“Why do you wish to know?”

“I’m your friend. Anything that grieves or burdens you should be on my back as well. I wish to know all your troubles and relieve you of them as best I can.”

“Very well.” He sighed slowly, sadly, and reluctantly began to speak again, with a short pause, a silence in the air, thicker than the noise made by the nobles. “—- was the Prince. He was second only to me in power, and a close, close friend. But my friendship, the friendship of the king, and the highest position besides mine, was never enough for him. He stirred rebellion in his own heart and the hearts of others. He corrupted the court with his own selfish greed.” Each word sunk heavier and heavier, dropping from his mouth like tears, or drops of blood. The king looked old and grey. And sad.

He didn’t continue speaking. Ohobilah edged closer and wrapped her arm around him. “Your love is too great, even for enemies of the crown,” she murmured in his ear.

“It’s my nature, and my delight to love all of these,” he gestured to the crowd around him, laughing and singing and chatting carelessly. “And he took it for granted, doubted that it would lead him to the best. He forsook me. And I forsook him.”

But it still hurts. Ohobilah thought. You’re still sad. “Why would he come back?”

The king gave another long sigh. “He wishes to stir rebellion in my courts once again and ruin everything we have here.”

“Surely he knows it’s a lost cause? Shouldn’t he give up?”

He turned to Ohobilah with a sad, lonely, intense stare, with a depth hidden even from her. “You’d be surprised at the hate deep within men’s hearts, Ohobilah. Even a man faithful and true to me can be carried away and enticed by his own lusts. —- can take as much as he can down with him and cause me pain, even if my kingdom is lost to him.”

“He would do all that for spite alone? Why wouldn’t he ask forgiveness and a place as your servant? Surely life as an outcast, spit upon in your kingdom and ravaged by beasts in the wild, would be enough to drive him back to you with an apology on his lips?”

“He no longer understands the way of forgiveness.” The king’s eyes averted once again to a place far, far away, a scene distant even in memory. “He no longer desires it.”

“What of the barons who revolted with him? Have any of them repented?”

“No.” The king swallowed and turned his misty blue eyes back to the things of the present. “Let us speak of good things, Ohobilah, and not recount in order the sorrows of the past. Today is a celebration! There is no room for dismay.” He took her hand and stood up, shouting for a dance. The musicians struck up a song and the queen was spun into the mass of colorful, whirling skirts.

The jewels were flashing again, diamond, ruby, topaz. A dizzy dark cloud came over Ohobilah’s head. She began to look down at her feet as they moved through the motions, built into them mechanically. The confusion slowly dwindled into a dull, heavy silence of step, one, two, three. Step, one, two, three.

Why would a man sacrifice life in the court for a risky revolt against the king of the known world, with his subjects backing him up? Ohobilah couldn’t understand the logic or the reasoning behind this man’s actions. It seemed as if he’d just drunk too much wine and began to believe that he was already king and the throne was rightfully his. None of the nobles had ever dreamed of holding the crown, she knew for a fact. They were as loyal as she herself. No one in their country had ever attempted such a rebellion.

The pieces from the king’s story didn’t fit together unless Lord —- had believed there was some other power backing him up, something to fall on after he lost the battle. That would mean something besides the kingdom, outside of the king’s realm. But her entire life Ohobilah had been told the only thing out there was the Wilderness. What kind of terrible power could be outside the king’s own? The king must have left out a detail. Was there a rival kingdom? Maybe the king didn’t own the entire realm. Maybe they were only a tiny dot on the surface of  the world.

Ohobilah looked up into the king’s face with her mouth opening. “My lord, is there something outside of this kingdom? The idea of a revolt without a safeguard boggles my mind. How could Lord —- take that step without something to fall back on?”

“Ohobilah, there is nothing outside of my kingdom but the Wilderness, cold and harsh. Surely you have learned that in my courts?”

She winced. “Are you sure? Maybe he knows of a power outside of yours, and that influenced him to rebel. Maybe he was a spy from the start, sent to take over your kingdom.”

“No, Ohobilah. I know for certain that there is nothing outside of my kingdom but darkness and wilderness. —- was a fool, and he may have believed there was something, but there is nothing good outside of our kingdom, and there never will be.”

Ohobilah was quiet. She stopped dancing and slowly said, “I’m dizzy. I’ll go outside for a moment. Would you get me a drink of water?”

He nodded. “Take a coat. It’s cold tonight.”

Coffeeshophorrors

 

Faithful

This is chapter one of my story Faithful, which is based on Ezekiel, particularly Chapter 16 (gorgeous!!!). A while ago, I felt like there was something God wanted me to do with my writing that would bring glory to Him, and this is what came out of that. It’s not very good, since it’s very hard to write happy stuff and I wasn’t really into the story when I wrote this. I just recently finished reading Ezekiel, and it’s an amazing book. I hope you enjoy! BTW, Ohobilah means “my tabernacle is in her” and it’s from Ezekiel 23.

Chapter One

            Blood pools around me in a filthy, gory mess. No one loves me. I am alone. Alone forever. There’s nothing but blood and more and more. The flow never stops. Nothing will help me. I’m worthless, writhing, disgusting. My mother threw me out. No one cared to wash me. My father despises me. All I see is pain. What can I do to save myself? Someone help me. All I need is a hand. Just a hand. I’m dying. Oh, God, I can’t breathe. All that’s left is death. Save me. Save me, someone. Keep me from this pain. This eternal pain. When will this end?

I hear screams. Someone’s in pain. I run, hoping to get there in time. She’s dying. She’s covered in blood.  The poor thing. I pick her up and bring her back to the palace. My clothes are covered. She’s filthy. “Live!” I say to her in her blood. I don’t want her to die. I wash her in warm water and cover her in satin clothes. I hope she survives. She’s crying. The tears are warm on my fingers. Where did she come from?

It ended. Oh, God, it’s over. I…I’m in Heaven. Thank you. Thank you, so much. Thank you. Thank you. Tears run down my face. I can’t speak. His fingers are smooth and cool against my burning cheeks. Thank you for caring though I’m filthy and awful.

It’s a lovely day. She’s doing well. She’s thriving! I see her speaking with the servants. Her face lights up whenever she sees me. I love her, no matter where she came from.I don’t want her to leave.

I don’t want to ask. I don’t know where I can go. My life has installed itself right here while I wasn’t looking. I can’t go back out there, I can’t leave this. Oh, God, I don’t know what to do. I know this is selfish…but I pray he’ll never ask me to leave. I’m seated on his left hand at a feast. What an honor. I do not deserve it. He is so kind. He looks happy.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Ohobilah?” I ask her. She smiles and nods. “Do you want to stay?”

I’m laying on my bed, eyes wide open. I don’t think they’ve closed for hours. I can stay! He asked me to promise him something-to save myself for him.Of course I agreed. I will live in the palace permanently now. All the days of my life. Timna, my friend yesterday, sleeps in the next room, my servant. I have authority, not that I would ever need it.I am so happy…I don’t even know how to express it. I can stay, for my life. I am the king’s own.

The day shone mildly, warming the winding cobblestone path as she moved her bare feet slowly across the ground. The garden ran over with life, bright green, transparent leaves clustered with fat, colorful fruit, dragging down the supple branches. The world was beautiful, trapped in an eternal spring, each tree and bush delightfully scenic and tasteful in their own place. Oholibah smiled.

Soon a small alcove came into view where a young man sat, ankles crossed and tucked underneath the seat, his hands flat on the stone bench. He faced his garden with a blissful, quiet expression. When he saw her, he smiled handsomely, standing up. “I made something for you,” he said brightly.

Oholibah kissed his cheek, holding his hand lightly as they both sat back down. The bench was deliciously cool compared to the persistently warm sun. “What is it, my lord?” she asked. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a glimmering, polished bracelet, studded with jewels. The king’s smile widened as he saw her surprised face looking down at it. “It’s…beautiful.” Her eyes were caught on the wrought gold. “Thank you so much. You made this? For me?”

He nodded. “Put it on.” She slid the bracelet on shyly, still in wonder of the beauty, eyes locked on it. The king hugged her, softly saying “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she murmured.

The room was flooded with light, shadows from the budding trees swaying back and forth over the intricate Persian rugs. The celebration was an hour away. Ohobilah lay on her bed, hair disheveled and her beautiful dress, a spring green one that the king had given her, spread around her. She was smiling into her reflection, warped by the polished gold of her new bracelet. “I’m so lucky,” she grinned. Tonight was their anniversary. Their entire kingdom would be there, looking up at their king, celebrating the kingdom’s lasting peace and prosperity under such a wide leader. She couldn’t wait.

A servant walked in quietly. “Ma’am, you should be getting ready,” she said anxiously.

“Thank you, Timna,” Ohobilah said, sitting up as the maid began to plait her hair. She kept staring into her reflection.

“Did the king just give that to you, miss?”

“Yes,” she said with a vague smile. “Isn’t it beautiful? He made it himself.”

“I thought so,” she said confidently. “I saw him walking into the garden with the happiest smile on his face. He really loves giving things to you.”

“Yes. He loves me very much. I wonder what I should give back to him?”

Timna chuckled. “The king has everything he wants right now, I believe. You don’t need to give anything back to win his affection.”

“Yes, but…” Ohobilah laughed with her. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter,” She looked up, lifting her face into a patch of sunlight coming from the tall, glass windows.

“Keep still, my lady.”

“Yes, Timna.” She began smoothing down her dress methodically, her fingers sweeping across the smooth material soundlessly. Ohobilah yawned. “I wish I had more energy. I don’t know if I can stay awake at the feast.” Timna just kept tugging at her hair. “I’m exhausted.” She muttered. The tugging grew the tiniest bit harder.  “That hurts, Timna!” Ohobilah complained.

“Sorry, ma’am.”

A sharp knock rattled the heavy oak doors. “Come in,” the queen cried in a commanding voice.

A guard, dressed in the scarlet colors of the king, walked in stiffly. “Five minutes until your appearance, my lady.”

“Thank you, I’ll be ready.” Ohobilah sent him out with a small nod of her head and he responded with a deep, respectful bow, closing the door behind him. “It’s a good thing I’m already dressed,” she sighed, picking a hair off her skirt. Behind her, the queen could feel her servant pinning the last strand of hair up.

“Thank you, Timna,” she said, standing up quickly and rushing to the door. She opened it to see the king, leaning against the red and gold walls, beaming at her in his ceremonial robe.

“You look lovely, my dear,” he said, his eyes warm and radiant. He walked over to her and offered his arm, which she took, smiling back.

The trumpets blared, harmonizing with each other as the cheers of the people rose up against them like a wave. The heavy doors opened onto the balcony, overlooking a great multitude of subjects. Lords of the king’s provinces sat upon huge elephants, waving at them. Fathers hoisted their eager children onto their backs to give the tykes a better view of the nobility. The noise from vendors ceased entirely as they stopped handing out juices and pies to stare up in awe at the two beautiful royals.

Ohobilah’s smile grew wider. Everyone loved her so much. She knew she belonged where she was, at the head, with the king, as thousands of people cheered them. This was right. This was good. She fiddled with her bracelet happily, waving regally every once in a while, gently removing her arm from the king’s. He turned to her and kissed her cheek. His eyes were so passionate…so loving…so kind. Ohobilah looked down to the crowd. Their eyes were filled with the same love, the same beauty.

The world was at its best.

“Ohobilah, see how much they love you? I love you so much more.”

“Oh, I know. You tell me every day, my lord, how could I doubt it?” she elbowed him teasingly. His smile looked tired and strained. “Cheer up! Enjoy the festivities.” Ohobilah looked back down and continued waving.

In the corner of her eye, she saw a dark-clad figure. He moved through the crowd with a proud grace, smooth and haughty, with long strides. People parted before him easily as he shoved through them. He looked up at her, into her eyes, with a curious gleam, and smiled. He didn’t wave-he just stood there, gazing commandingly into her eyes.

“Who’s that?” Ohobilah asked, turning around with a finger pointed at him. The king’s eyes were darker now. Almost intimidating. She looked back down, following his intense glare. The man in black had disappeared. “What’s wrong?” she asked, softer now.

“There’s no reason to ruin this lovely moment with such a long, arduous story,” he said laughingly. But he didn’t look her in the face, and there was pain, sharp and strong, drawn in the downward tilt of his mouth. Ohobilah didn’t pursue it.

Coffeeshophorrors

 

In the Spirit

Last week, I was thinking a lot about how I needed to make sure my friends knew that I was there for them. My sister advised me that the best thing to do was to say it outright. You don’t have to prove yourself with some heroic act of acceptance or love, you just have to tell them, especially when you know that physically you can’t always be there with them, helping them through the hard times.

On Thursday, a friend of mine shared about a very impacting experience. (Everyone who saw the people in the room afterwards wondered what happened. They said we were all in a daze.) I realized that two of the people I loved, when something was happening to them, something crucial, something so terribly important, I didn’t even notice. I think maybe some people who claim to be antisocial are just selfish, so focused on themselves they couldn’t care less about the world around them. Or at least that’s how I was. I perfectly described myself in that poem…

Originally, I was going to be away from home until 10:30, at which point my parents wouldn’t really want me sending an email. I was going to a different church’s youth group. After walking out of that room and coming to that realization, though, I knew there was no way on earth that would happen. I really can’t explain that finalization of thought. Going home early to tell Em I was there for her and I would love her no matter what wasn’t just one option on my list. I had to. That conviction was from the Holy Spirit and I knew it. It felt so strong, so compelling. It was a desire I couldn’t even fight.

Have you ever felt something like that? It felt like my heart was literally, physically somewhere else, and I couldn’t stand being away from it. Like my chest was caving in because it was empty. It felt confusing…and wonderful. Because I knew it was from God. It wasn’t just a worldly desire. Maybe I don’t describe it well enough, but it was absolute. That was the main idea. I almost feel as if I would have walked home just to send an email that took five minutes…it sounds really dumb! But I needed to.

When I got home, which wasn’t much trouble at all, I just sat down, wrote my email, and viola! wondered why it was such a big deal. I decided to use the rest of my time alone writing a story that a while back, God made it very obvious He wanted me to write. Since then that story, Faithful is the working title, has taken up a lot of speed and inspired way too much thought for me to handle.

It’s Good Friday today. I guess it works with the kind of thought pattern I’ve had lately.Faithful is based on the book Ezekiel, you know, the one about how Israel is like an adulterous wife but God will renew His covenant with her anyways? Look up Ezekiel 16. The part about how beautiful Israel was is nothing compared to the list of her sins. The last four verses, however, are brilliant and heartbreaking. Last night I was in tears thinking that God still loves us. That fact destroys me. Even without Him DYING for us, I can’t even believe He would have a mite of love left for people like us. I was naming everyone I knew, even the best people, who other Christians think they can look up to, and saying “God, the fact that you can love that person blows my mind.”

Then I thought of the cross and I couldn’t think anymore.

In Revelation, plus Ezekiel and Daniel and Isaiah, the author writes “and I was in the Spirit and I saw…” what I would say is “and I was in the Spirit and I couldn’t think, speak, move, or do anything” The first part of that sentence is already too much for me to handle. John was in the Spirit. In the Spirit. And then he saw GOD’S THRONE ROOM.

Someone told me that the glory of God was His goodness. I think that also counts for His love. I look at the cross and I can’t think because Jesus, by any law, should not love us. According to His standards for us, men can divorce their wives if they commit adultery. We have done it countless times and all He says is “I can forgive you. Come back. You need me. I still love you. Change your ways. Don’t you see?I still love you.”

And isn’t that our God?

I heard God’s voice last Thursday and that was enough to make me fall on my face. I saw the cross this Thursday and that was enough to break my heart. God’s sorrow is the greatest. He was scorned by the ones He came to save. And He still is.Don’t add to His grief. Change. I beg you.

Well, all I know is that Thursday isn’t Thor’s anymore 🙂

Coffeeshophorrors