My first entry was from Abigayle. It was written in a lovely style that I really enjoyed. It seemed like I could step right into the story and take pictures of the dew. Thank you for participating, Abi!
The Dew Remains
I tumble out of bed and don on my clothes with haste. The dew remains on the grasses and I must capture it before it evaporates into the dawn of another day. I fasten the last button and fly down the stairs, over the porch, and out the gate. I hear the screen door slam as my feet carry me over the sharp stones among the feverish dust and into the horizon where my meadow lies.
Oh, my beautiful meadow. I hardly remember snatching my satchel that now rests across my shoulder, slapping my leg with every footfall I leave behind. I pull it over my tangled black hair that tumbles over my shoulders and draw out my sketchbook and pencils. The very sight of them stokes a warmth in my heart that is not often there.
I spy the masterpiece I come to relay with led and paper and sit on nature’s wet blanket to get a better view. The sun’s sleepy rays hit its dewdrops with such precision, I determine to come again and again. As many times at it will take to transcribe the beauty held in the spider’s delicate hovel, a homage to its Creator.
A shadow creeps over my page, cast not by any cloud or tree, but by a fellow person. I turn, prepared to release my fury on the mortal who dares to disturb my sanctuary. Every one of them knows by now, I had made certain, not to disturb my solitude.
The eyes I meet are not familiar but foreign, as is the ringing of voice, when he asks, “What are you doing?”
I scoff and turn back to my work. Can he not tell I am busy?
“Do you live here?”
Again, I remain silent, hoping he will go back to where he came from.
“Look, I’m just trying to be friendly.”
I whirl around and stare his striking blue eyes into a puddle as he takes in my odd appearance—the blanched skin, consuming eyes, and strident hair. My hem must be wet three inches up. “I am not your friend,” I hiss. “Don’t jump to conclusions.”
I return to my work and smile as the shadow retreats. But the spider is gone and with it his web. I dart my eyes for a moment, searching. I snap one of my pencils over my knee in my fury. How could you?
Then over the wind, I can almost hear his mocking voice. Don’t jump to conclusions.
I sit chastised for a long while until the dew begins to fade and the sun bursts down more heavily. Then I turn and walk home, lacking all luster I left with just an hour before. On my way I meet the boy again. He had never really left. He remained there, at the edge of the meadow, watching, waiting.
He holds is hand up and offers to carry my satchel. I agree to let him, if only to make him feel better for my outburst before. He makes small talk on the way home and I learn enough about him that I realize perhaps we could be friends. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.
The next entry I received was from Lauren Stoner. It displayed the moral wonderfully! I really enjoyed reading it!
Charlotte Balentine sighed in disgust. How could her brother do this to her? Of all the people in the world, her brother was marrying Holly Sheaffer. The Sheaffers were the richest family in town and the entire family was spoiled. Holly’s younger sister was Charlotte’s age and was mean and rude to her at school.
“Gavin, you can’t marry her!” Charlotte protested.
“Charlotte, I will marry whomever I want,” Gavin replied.
“But they’re mean people!”
“You don’t know Holly.”
“Yes I do! Her entire family is mean and nasty and I wish they’d leave town!”
“Charlotte!” Gavin spun around. “That was totally uncalled for.”
Charlotte squirmed under her big brother’s stare. “But the Sheaffers always have everything they want and treat all of us like dirt. The whole family thinks they’re better than everyone else.”
“Enough, I’m late for work.” Gavin grabbed his coat. “Holly’s coming over for supper and your attitude towards her better change before then.”
Holly arrived with Gavin at five for dinner. The five crowded around the dining room table. Mr. Balentine said a quick prayer and the food was passed around.
“Thank-you so much for inviting me over,” Holly said as Mrs. Balentine passed her the bread basket.
“We’re so glad you were able to come,” Mrs. Balentine replied.
“We wanted the opportunity to get to know you better,” Mr. Balentine added. “Gavin has told us about you, but we haven’t had the chance to talk to you ourselves.”
Holly laughed nervously.
“All good things,” Gavin promised, taking Holly’s hand.
Charlotte resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she shoved a bite of lasagna into her mouth.
“What are you looking to do now that you’re out of college?” Mr. Balentine asked.
“That’s actually what we wanted to talk to everyone about,” Holly said. “Gavin and I have been discussing this for weeks and we’ve been praying a great deal. We’re positive about what God wants us to do.”
“And what’s that?” Mrs. Balentine inquired.
“Be missionaries,” Gavin said.
Charlotte set down her fork and looked at her parents. The Balentines exchanged a brief glanced before looking to their son.
“I’ve been battling the Lord for a month now about this subject. I’d have to return to Bible college, but Holly approached me about breaking off our engagement because she felt called to the mission field too. When I realized that she was willing to break up with me to follow the Lord’s Will, I realized I had to put God first in our relationship, just like she was.”
Charlotte couldn’t handle it any longer. “This is ridiculous! You can’t be a missionary, Holly! Your family could never be missionaries! Your family is rude and mean!”
“Charlotte!” Mr. Balentine shouted.
Charlotte fled the room and retreated to the front porch.
Moments later, the door opened and Holly walked out and sat beside Charlotte.
“I don’t blame you for judging me because of my family,” Holly said softly. “I know my family is unsaved and they do a lot of things I wish they wouldn’t. I know you don’t know me very well, but I am not like the rest of my family. I used to be like them, but Christ changed my life a few years ago and gave me new purpose.”
Charlotte could hear the truth in Holly’s words. She felt awful for jumping to conclusions. “Holly…I am so sorry.”
“It’s alright; I forgive you.”
Gavin joined the two girls on the porch. “Everything okay?”
“It is now,” Charlotte answered with a smile. “Let’s go finish dinner.”
And Faith P. sent me her entry, much to my delight. It, too, displayed the moral very well and was well-
written. This one was so sweet. Thanks, Faith!
Bryce Thompson was fuming as he stormed up the stairs to the elementary school and down the hall towards the principles office. He knew the route all too well.
Life had been hard for Bryce and his daughter since his wife passed away, almost year ago. This wasn't the first time he'd been called away from work on account of Laurel's disruptive behavior in school. He was about to his wit's end. Marci had been homeschooling Laurel, but that wasn't an option for them anymore.
Bryce paused outside the door to the school office to gather his thoughts, before stepping inside. The school secretary, a middle-aged lady with blond hair and bright green glasses, looked up when he entered.
"Hey, Gladys. I came as soon as I could."
"She's over there." The woman motioned to her left and went back to the paperwork on her desk.
Bryce turned in the direction she'd indicated. His seven year-old daughter sat slouched in a chair against the opposite wall. He walked over and stood in front of her.
"Laurel, look at me please."
She slowly meet his eyes, her own rimmed with tears.
"Is it true that you shoved Alicia Marshall into her lunch tray?"
"Yes, sir," she answered timidly. "But..."
"But, what?" Bryce prodded, kneeling to her level.
"I had good reason!" she insisted.
"Laurel, there is no good reason for you to do such a thing. Why can't you get along with that girl? Every time you get in trouble it has to do with her."
"Please, Daddy!" She scooted to the edge of the chair. "Please listen!"
Bryce sighed and sank into the chair next to her. "I'm listening, but I don't want to hear another round of excuses."
"Alicia Marshall is a nasty bully," the girl started.
"Laurel..." he warned.
"She is!" Laurel sniffed. "She makes fun of me since...since Momma died."
Bryce froze. "What?"
Laurel looked down at her lap and didn't answer.
"Have you told the teacher?"
"Mrs. Dickson doesn't care. She...she picks on me too because I'm getting failing grades... She doesn't like me and that's why I get in trouble so much."
Bryce felt like someone had dropped a ton of bricks in his stomach. How could he have been so consumed by his own grief that he overlooked his little girl? How long had Laurel been suffering?
"Oh, Laurel..." He held out his arms to her, as she slid out of her chair and crawled into his lap.
Bryce held his daughter close as she sobbed on his shoulder. He had believed others above his own daughter. He'd certainly jumped to the wrong conclusion.
"Listen, sweetie." Bryce pried his daughter's arms from around his neck and turned her chin so she looked him in the eye.
She yanked her chin out of his hand and wiped her nose on her jacket sleeve. Bryce grimaced and glanced around. He pulled a Kleenex from the box on the table next to him, handing it to Laurel. She took it and wiped at her nose.
Bryce let it slide; there were more important matters to be solved. "Laurel, will you listen to me now?"
Green eyes slanted in his direction and a trembling chin were his only answers.
"Honey, I had no idea any of this was going on. I'm so sorry that you were going through this alone. Can you forgive me?"
Laurel slowly nodded.
"Things are going to be different. We're going to spend time on your homework every night after supper and get your grades back up, alright?"
"Okay." Laurel smiled up at him so sweetly. "I love you, Daddy."
He kissed her cheek. "I love you, Laurel."
question for my readers and entrants. Would you like the next challenge to be writing a story based off
of a moral, or rewriting a popular fable, like I did in the beginning? Thanks again to everyone!