Dear Mama, the Father’s Calling

Something a little different...

This story is different than the fiction I usually publish.  I typically write about werewolves, creatures, and psychos.  Although this story is different from the fun horror stories I usually write, I still consider it a horror story, even more so than the other things I write about.

I think the Christmas season put me in the mood to write the following type of story.  It isn’t the type of story a family would tell while watching Christmas Vacation and Home Alone while sipping on egg nog, but it may be the type of story that some families should think about while giving each other gifts and eating fudge and ham. 

The story you are about to read is fictional.  Any similarities to living or dead people in the story are purely coincidental.

Email Written from John to his Mother

Subject: Greetings From Far Away!

Dear Mom:

I hope this email finds you in good health and high spirits.  I often think of you and our heart-warming conversations.  I miss drinking Swiss Miss during the holiday season.  The people here have embraced me as a teacher, and they are learning English quite well.

Every day brings new experiences and challenges that have opened my eyes in so many ways.  The culture is so different here. 

I know you miss Emily and her being spoiled by your Grandma’s gifts, but she has adapted quite well and is a fantastic English teacher.  She has always been a “daddy’s girl,” and she couldn’t stay separated from me for long.

Even though everything is different, she enjoys being right by my side. 

The days are long here but fulfilling.  I am currently involved in a project that focuses on community development.  The people here are kindhearted, and I am learning so much from them.  I have been taking long walks during my limited free time, absorbing the unique landscapes and the city’s vibrant culture.  There is so much history and tradition here.  I find myself constantly intrigued by the stories and customs shared by the locals. 

They have such a rich heritage.  I’ve enjoyed listening to their stories about the mythical creature Chollima.  The tale of Chollima means a lot to the people here.  The food here is different but exciting.  I miss your meals and am trying to adapt our family recipes using local ingredients.  It has been a challenge, but sometimes I make it work. 

I have been reading and finding comfort in familiar passages.  Being here has given me a fresh perspective on things I have taken for granted.

Your Son,

John

P.S. I don’t want you to be concerned, but I have had a few close encounters here.  My Father may be calling soon. 

The Letter to Mom

The following is a letter written by John to his mother.  The letter was found on a dead man in an undisclosed location.

Dear Mom

Life over here has made a drastic turn for the worse.  I may not be in this world anymore by the time you read this letter, but I am at peace.  Please do not despair and pray for the prison guards and my fellow inmates to see the light.  Please do not be sad.  The faith and strength you instilled in me are my guiding light, even here.

If there was ever a place that needed the light, it was this place.  This place is a total hell hole.  I am surrounded by darkness.  Each day is a test of endurance and faith.  I try to walk in kindness and love, but it is hard when loaded with heavy labor and given only salt and corn to eat.  I am doubly hated here because of who I am and where I am from. 

Every day is a test of endurance.  I still try to spread the love of Christ when I am able.  I think one of the prison guards is coming around, even though it has been hard to melt his heart of stone.  Yesterday, one of the prisoners asked me how I could be so kind under the harsh conditions, and I drew a cross in the sand.  He knew the symbol, and he knew what it meant.  I guess I am reaping a harvest that someone else has watered.  I think it touched his heart.  Only God knows what can be done with a seed!

Even though I am treated like a criminal every day, I feel freedom I have never felt before.  I feel like I am wrapped in a blanket of love of The Holy Spirit.  The Spirit is protecting me from evil. 

The nights are long and lonely.  Sometimes, I try to sleep in sweltering conditions, and other times cold.  It just depends on how the prison guards like to mess with us.  I fill my nights with silent prayers that bring me comfort.  I have been having strange dreams.  I imagine some of the dreams are like those prophets had in the bible. 

Please know that I am not afraid.  I have come to accept my fate, whatever it may be.  If this is my earthly end, I am ready to accept it.  Your teaching and love have prepared me for this journey.  I want you to be proud and not sad.  I have lived a life true to our beliefs and tried to be a light in the darkest places.  I pray that Emily is on her way home and will see you soon.

Mom, please take care of yourself and Emily.  Remember me with a smile next time you drink Swiss Miss.   Know that I am carrying your love with me always.  You raised me right, and for that, I am eternally grateful.

But the Father’s calling….

With all the love in my heart,

John

Photo by Denny Müller on Unsplash

The Last Day

John’s bruised and bloodied body hung from the scaffold in the prison yard.  His body was limp from the pain of torture.  Every so often, the prison guards like to publicly execute prisoners.  It made a statement to other prisoners about the consequences if they didn’t behave.  John was a perfect prisoner to make an example because he was both an American and a Christian, two things the regime hated with a passion.

John was a good-looking man at one, but now his face was bashed beyond recognition.  His body was broken and weak.  His limp body hung from the scaffold after being stoned and beaten by the prisoners and the prison guards. 

“How does it feel to have lived a worthless life?” yelled one of the prison guards.

“Unless a kernel of wheat is planted in the soil and dies, it remains alone.  But its death will produce many new kernels, a plentiful harvest of new lives,” said John. 

“What is this talk of kernels, you fool?  It was the regime that provided you with kernels and nourishment to make you into a thrifty worker.” yelled the guard.

“Kernels and salt.  Not much nourishment in that,” said John.

“You chose to come over here spreading your lies and Imperialism.  We did not ask you to come.  You could have stayed where you came from and lived your perverted life.  Kernels and salt are more nourishment than you deserve.” said the guard.  

“I came to seek that of which is lost,” said John.

The guard laughed a big belly laugh and said, “You are the only one lost.  You are lost and stupid.  Look around.  The people you came to help have stoned you.  Because they know you are an ignorant fool and a liar.  How does that make you feel?”

John looked toward the sky.  The clouds were dark and grey that day.  A storm was coming.  John looked at the guards and the prisoners and, with tears in his eyes, said, “Lord, forgive them, for they know not what they do,”

The prison guard laughed another hearty belly laugh and said, “The delusion is strong in this one.  Lord?  Ha. Stone this fool and put him out of his misery.  He has embarrassed himself enough.”

The prisoners and the guards threw more stones at John.  A sharp stone hit John on the side of his head.  Blood burst out of the side of his head, and a drop of John’s blood landed on the guard’s hand.  The guard wiped the blood off his hand. 

“You are a foolish man,” said the guard, “Deny your so-called Lord.”

“I will not deny him,” said John.

“I would not be too sure about that,” said the guard with a snarl.  “Bring her out!”

A few guards enter the prison yard, and between the two guards stands Emily.  Her face is black and blue with bruises.  John’s heart sank as he saw his daughter standing before him.  A quick flash of memories filled his mind.  He remembered playing with her and teaching her how to walk.  He remembered the fun they had had at theme parks and church.  He thought she had had favor with the Lord and had safely gotten back home, but she was captured not long after he was.  The man John had trusted to get Emily safely back home wasn’t his friend or ally.  He was an informant. 

The prison guard smiled and said, “This ups the stakes now, doesn’t it?”

The prison guard laughed and said, “Not only can your God not protect you, but He can’t even protect your daughter.  Look at her.  Such a beautiful little flower.  She can be free.  It’s up to you.”

The guard aimed a handgun at her head and cocked it. 

“Where is your God now?  She can be free.  All you must do is deny Him.”

Emily shakes her head, “No.  “John looks into her beautiful green eyes.

“She’s already free,” said John.

“Your choice,” said the guard. 

The guard pulls the trigger, and Emily’s brains fly out the side of her head.  She collapses to the ground. 

The guard laughed a belly laugh and addressed the prisoners and other guards. 

“What you see hanging before you is a weak, perverted fool.  He would rather have me execute his beautiful little flower than deny a made-up Lord and his lies and myths.  How ignorant and twisted is this fool?” said the guard.

John, with what little strength he had left as his bruised and mangled body hung before the guards and prisoners.  He had one last thing to say to the guard,” Last night, you had a dream about the Chollima,”

John’s comment startled the prison guard.  How did John know?

“You saw the Chollima in the dream.  The dream was unfulfilling to you.  You would never admit that publically, but it was.  It was like a part of the dream was missing,” said John.

A radiant smile came across John’s face as he seemed to have a yellow glow around him. 

“I had a dream last night, too.  I dreamed the rest of your dream.  I saw what you didn’t see.”

A puzzled look comes upon that guard’s face.  John can tell by the expression on the guard’s face that he was seeing the rest of the dream.  The guard looks at John’s mangled body hanging above him, and he sees the peace on John’s face.  It was lightning and thunder.  It begins to rain.

John laughs.  “And now you see it too.  Now you know why I am here.”

The guard shoots John in the face.  The prison guard looks as if he has seen a ghost.  John’s limp body swings back and forth in front of him; blood drips off John’s body and onto the hands of the prison guard.  The guard quickly wipes the blood off his hands like it is contaminated.

“Wrap it up!” yelled the guard.  “And throw his body with the others.” 

It begins to pour down rain as the guards cut down John’s body and throw his limp, lifeless body with a pile of other dead bodies.  The prison guard walks away from all the rain and commotion.  The prison guard walks away to an isolated place and ponders about what he saw in the dream.

Prison Guards Dream

John’s Dream  

I know the story was a sad story but sometimes being killed for one’s faith seems like something that happened a long time ago but being murdered for one’s beliefs is something that is still happening today. And it is all groups that this is happening to, Christians, Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, and Atheist have all been murdered for what they believe. Antisemitism has been on the rise. For all the talk about today’s technology, humans have still not learned to lay our differences aside and love one another. Okay, that is my soap box for today. I know tonight’s story was a little different but I hope that those of you who enjoy my stories still enjoyed it. Until next time, let’s try and love one another.