I want to share with you a story turned in by one of the students at AVA, Doug Brown.There is a bit of edginess, but nonetheless, powerful.
Strength of a Savior:
John awoke to a black cloud badgering his nostrils. He sniffed once, twice, and realized it smelled like a campfire. He managed to drag himself out of bed and glance at the alarm clock glinting in the corner. It was 2:00 am. He headed down the stairs and began to look for the source of the smell. He thought, "it had better be something important to get me out of the bed at this time." As he walked down the hallway, he stopped only once in order to look in the room of his six year old son, Rob. He was sleeping peacefully with his blanket wrapped around him, so John kept walking.
Finally, arriving in the kitchen, he saw the oven explode into an all consuming blaze. Was it a power surge? He rushed to the bathroom to soak some blankets to throw over the fire. But the blankets seemed to only amplify the brilliant golden hue that covered the walls like the mural of an artisan. The kitchen was quickly consumed, leaving John in doubt of his ability to save himself, but he raced up to his room to grab his valuables: a Bible and a picture of his dead wife. Racing out, but keeping low to the ground, he used his hand to find the doorway to his son's room. Now only primal instinct affected his actions. Pain disappeared, as did rational thought. He watched his skin blister and pop, like a wave of protest, but he was separate from it, his son mattered more.
He buried the pain in his memories and placed his hands on the knob, melting the flesh of his hand to the metal of the door. Tearing it free, he serached for the bed and found his son unconscious upon it. John reached in his pocket, all the while aware of the heat that came closer in leaps and bounds, pulled out a handkerchief and placed it over Rob's mouth so he could breath properly. He realized that the alternative to escape was death, so John abandoned all sense, stood, and sprinted for where the doorway should have been, straight through the white flame that licked at his body. But the door wasn't there. A large beam from the roof fell and blocked their only route of escape with splinters and nails. John gazed backwards, only to see the kitchen belch another wave of cinders. Trying not to let complete desperation take hold, John scrambled for a thought that could save them.
Finally he realized that the fire would have caused the wall to weaken, allowing him to break through more easily. He went as close to the fire as he dared, then lowered his shoulder and charged at the wall and heard a crack as he broke his shoulder blade. Again, he separated himself from the pain and tried the other shoulder. This time the crack came form the wall as it came crashing down, allowing John to tumble on the snow outside. It already seemed as if the fire was a distant memory, even though he could see its dancing in the snow.
John left his son 50 meters from the house because he had to get help and he couldn't carry anyone with the condition of his hands. As his adrenaline left him, he cried out in pain and shock, as he dropped to his knees. He forced himself up and kept going not looking at his body, or he would have felt the pain that faced him. Then another explosion came from behind him blowing him twenty five feet from where he was standing, the aftermath leaving him gasping. Nothing was left. That thought worked its way into John's severely damaged body, there was nothing left to do save sobbing until he finally succumbed to the darkness eating away at his mind.
A light pierced the darkness of John's consciousness, but not a soft light. It ripped a hole in his eyelids and blinded him, before dying down in a healing light. Still, he struggled to open his eyes and saw a man standing beside his bed with a smile that told John, he knew all that had happened. The smile comforted him and, and the man placed his hand on John's shoulder. Surprisingly, there was no pain, only the comfort of a father. John tried to ask a question through his blistered lips, but the man only shook his head, with a tortured look as if he knew what would happen. The a rush of energy flowed from the man to John, and all of a sudden, their roles were reversed. The man lay blistered and broken on the floor. Only his smile could be recognized. Then his eyes dropped, as if he were carrying the weight of the world, and shut. His chest stopped moving and John's Savior died.
John awoke in the snow without a mark on him, not even the scars from his youth. He made his way back to his son's limp body and searched for a pulse. Only a flutter could be felt, but that was enough to bring tears of joy to John's eyes. And holding the body of his son close to his own, John began walking towards the hospital. It wasn't until later that he remembered the holes in the hands and feet of the Stranger.
Strength of a Savior:
John awoke to a black cloud badgering his nostrils. He sniffed once, twice, and realized it smelled like a campfire. He managed to drag himself out of bed and glance at the alarm clock glinting in the corner. It was 2:00 am. He headed down the stairs and began to look for the source of the smell. He thought, "it had better be something important to get me out of the bed at this time." As he walked down the hallway, he stopped only once in order to look in the room of his six year old son, Rob. He was sleeping peacefully with his blanket wrapped around him, so John kept walking.
Finally, arriving in the kitchen, he saw the oven explode into an all consuming blaze. Was it a power surge? He rushed to the bathroom to soak some blankets to throw over the fire. But the blankets seemed to only amplify the brilliant golden hue that covered the walls like the mural of an artisan. The kitchen was quickly consumed, leaving John in doubt of his ability to save himself, but he raced up to his room to grab his valuables: a Bible and a picture of his dead wife. Racing out, but keeping low to the ground, he used his hand to find the doorway to his son's room. Now only primal instinct affected his actions. Pain disappeared, as did rational thought. He watched his skin blister and pop, like a wave of protest, but he was separate from it, his son mattered more.
He buried the pain in his memories and placed his hands on the knob, melting the flesh of his hand to the metal of the door. Tearing it free, he serached for the bed and found his son unconscious upon it. John reached in his pocket, all the while aware of the heat that came closer in leaps and bounds, pulled out a handkerchief and placed it over Rob's mouth so he could breath properly. He realized that the alternative to escape was death, so John abandoned all sense, stood, and sprinted for where the doorway should have been, straight through the white flame that licked at his body. But the door wasn't there. A large beam from the roof fell and blocked their only route of escape with splinters and nails. John gazed backwards, only to see the kitchen belch another wave of cinders. Trying not to let complete desperation take hold, John scrambled for a thought that could save them.
Finally he realized that the fire would have caused the wall to weaken, allowing him to break through more easily. He went as close to the fire as he dared, then lowered his shoulder and charged at the wall and heard a crack as he broke his shoulder blade. Again, he separated himself from the pain and tried the other shoulder. This time the crack came form the wall as it came crashing down, allowing John to tumble on the snow outside. It already seemed as if the fire was a distant memory, even though he could see its dancing in the snow.
John left his son 50 meters from the house because he had to get help and he couldn't carry anyone with the condition of his hands. As his adrenaline left him, he cried out in pain and shock, as he dropped to his knees. He forced himself up and kept going not looking at his body, or he would have felt the pain that faced him. Then another explosion came from behind him blowing him twenty five feet from where he was standing, the aftermath leaving him gasping. Nothing was left. That thought worked its way into John's severely damaged body, there was nothing left to do save sobbing until he finally succumbed to the darkness eating away at his mind.
A light pierced the darkness of John's consciousness, but not a soft light. It ripped a hole in his eyelids and blinded him, before dying down in a healing light. Still, he struggled to open his eyes and saw a man standing beside his bed with a smile that told John, he knew all that had happened. The smile comforted him and, and the man placed his hand on John's shoulder. Surprisingly, there was no pain, only the comfort of a father. John tried to ask a question through his blistered lips, but the man only shook his head, with a tortured look as if he knew what would happen. The a rush of energy flowed from the man to John, and all of a sudden, their roles were reversed. The man lay blistered and broken on the floor. Only his smile could be recognized. Then his eyes dropped, as if he were carrying the weight of the world, and shut. His chest stopped moving and John's Savior died.
John awoke in the snow without a mark on him, not even the scars from his youth. He made his way back to his son's limp body and searched for a pulse. Only a flutter could be felt, but that was enough to bring tears of joy to John's eyes. And holding the body of his son close to his own, John began walking towards the hospital. It wasn't until later that he remembered the holes in the hands and feet of the Stranger.
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