Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Under the Bridge

The blue summer sky was dotted here and there with white fluffy clouds as the warm breeze bent the tall grass along the creek.  There were few sounds audible…the occasional car or truck passing by on the highway to Canada a few hundred feet away.  The soft trickling of the water in the creek as it passed over the larger boulders who dared to stick their heads above the moving stream.  Robins sang their summer songs in the tree and a lonely crow flew overhead…crying at no one in particular.  It was a scene as peaceful and serene as an artist could wish for to paint a portrait of a summer day.

But there was more going on here…things that you couldn’t easily see.  An old bridge crossed over the creek on the northern edge of the dairy farm.  The decking made up of old timbers wedged into the soil on either side of the moving water.  Underneath the bridge, the air was cool, almost cold.  The air was still…filled with the odor of moist soil and decomposing plants that couldn’t find the nourishment they needed to live in that dark space.  The embankments were made of soil, tapering slowing down to the edge of the stream where the transformed into rocks and pebbles.  It was darkest near the top where the bridge deck buried itself under surface of the ground.

As you moved closer, you could hear sounds that didn’t fit with summer chorus of birds and traffic and moving water.  In the deep shadows at the top of the embankment, a young boy in tattered cut-off shorts and faded t-shirt was on his knees between the legs an older boy in his early teens.  There were muffled moans as the young boy tried not to gag as his head was held down in the teen’s crotch.  The damp, musky odor of the earthen slope filled the dark space as the boy’s body trembled and shook in the cold air.

Unseen by either of the boys stood a figure…transparent and ethereal behind the young teenager.  An evil smile hidden in the darkness creased the face of this once “most beautiful” of the angels.  Speaking to no one in particular, his laughed softly as he said “I have another one.”  If you could see him, the hatred in his eyes for all things living sparkled in his eyes.  His pride swelled as he considered that one more soul was starting down a path of death and destruction.

Suddenly the darkness surrounding the fallen angel in this supernatural space unseen by the boys was filled with a light.  Standing behind the young boy still on his knees stood a man, cloaked in white.  As tears slowly wound their way down His face, He looked up from the ground where the teenager continued to hold the boy between his legs.  His eyes flashed as He glared at the Enemy across from Him.  “This one is NOT yours!  He is mine.”  The Prince of Darkness turned and started to move away.  Suddenly he stopped and looked back at the boys…then at the Prince of Peace.  “Then this is war” he mumbled as he slunk back into the darkness.

Photo - Unknown Source



Deb Shucka said...

I'm sitting here with goosebumps on my arms and tears in my eyes. Your hiatus did absolutely nothing to dilute the power of your writing. In fact I think it's grown to a whole new level. This story is powerful, painful to read, and so filled with sensory detail that I can smell the bridge and feel the dirt on my knees. More, please.

I love you.

Classes n Camps said...

This Is An Absolute Beautiful !
Things to do with kids in NYC