ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
46 year old wife and mother who is trying to put her past behind her. [July 2006]
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (13) Alien Within (Poetry) What comes with self examination. [15 words] Angel Of Death (Non-Fiction) A corrupted childhood contaminates the present-writing purges, but just slightly...*Caution, could be considered graphic* [706 words] [Horror] Dark Anger (Short Stories) A follow up, sort of, to Darkest Fairytale, sort of. [815 words] Darkest Fairytale (Short Stories) A story written out of the depths of confusion so it's a bit confusing to follow. *Could be considered graphic* [1,571 words] [Drama] Ending (Poetry) Just a few questions I asked once upon a time ago... [21 words] Escaping Reality (Short Stories) This is an account of a real event that has a fictional ending...the ending that I know she wanted. [981 words] Remember...Do You Remember? (Genres) A long prose that asks tough personal questions which require deep internal self-examination to find the answers...if answers can be found. [271 words] [Mind] Seeking God (Short Stories) This story was written in December when a vision of the god from my childhood came crashing into my present. [767 words] [Spiritual] Taken Fetus (Non-Fiction) Ripped from within her. [697 words] Tempest: Calming The Storm (Short Stories) Inner turmoil ... can it be calmed? *Caution, could be graphic* [771 words] The Frustrating Switch (Short Stories) What happens when stress takes me beyond the breaking point? This is glimpse into my world... [667 words] [Psychology] Washed In The Blood (Short Stories) During a particularly depressing time and trying to find a way to cleanse myself of shame...well this story came to be. *Caution, could be graphic.* [631 words] When I Was Eight (Genres) A long three part prose about a dark desert night when a child was scared into submission. [501 words]
God's Retribution Monica L Sprague
“Come little children, come unto me. Come all who hunger, come unto me.” Sing song like, the words ring in my head. I look to Winter Skye Phawn; she seems unaffected as we stand by the waters edge. She stares almost blindly at the fountain before us. I hear a whimper from beside me and look down-Moni, still sucking her thumb, reaches out to take my hand. Do you hear it to, I wonder to myself. Marissa reaches over to her and gently envelops her in a cocoon hug. Behind me there is the click-click of Ricca Marie’s knitting needles. How can she sit so calmly on that bench, I think, when god sings to us from right there?
I feel the breeze upon my face and I hug myself for warmth, the bitterness has returned. “Come little children, come unto me. Come all who hunger, come unto me.” I want to scream but instead I stamp my feet slightly, rocking back and forth. Winter looks my way, sorrow on her face and a reflection of the dreary, dank night. “Where is he,” I ask her too sharply, “where…I hear him, he calls…where is he?” She smiles gently and slowly begins to point, “There” she whispers, “there”.
I look, the fountain dances freely before my eyes; ghostly and wraith like, it appears as a featureless body leaping from the water below heavenward. I look back at winter, she is lost again, mesmerized by the apparition. “Come little children, come unto me. Come all who hunger, come unto me.” I strain to hear the sing song cadence above the roar of the fountain. I step forward, easing toward the edge of the pool. Suddenly, I am off the concrete and falling, falling far and falling fast.
The water that engulfs me is frigid, yet I am hot. I think I hear laughter, above me, below me, laughter all around me. I close my eyes and breathe deep, my lungs filling with water and burning within my chest. “Bells wells, for you tis hell. Wells bells, fore’re burn in hell”. I try to scream, but the water rushes in, hot and acrid.
“Please forgive me my lord and my god; please please forgive my insolence and ignorance and disobedience”. My lungs burn and I try to swim up-up toward the light. I suddenly feel light; I feel the cool soft gentle breeze as I am lifted upward-up beyond the pool, beyond the concrete ground. I am cradled in the light and lifted ever higher, whisked up into the company of angels.
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