From Darkness

  17: Letters of Thanksgiving

  Dear Ryan,

  I suppose this letter is long in coming, but I’m sure it is welcome all the same. I have come to the realization that my life up till now has been grossly misled. True, I never denied the existence of God or His work in creation, and even the fact that Jesus Christ is His son, but I allowed myself to believe that I had no further use than this, which in essence, strips God of all His qualities and leaves me following an empty vessel. I mean this in the figurative sense, as you and I both know that God cannot be stripped of anything, and contrary to any belief, has full knowledge and control over His creation. When I refused to listen to these teachings that I have known since childhood, God saw fit to bring me around in a more severe way. It started with my seizure while in the field, though one can see God at work in my childhood as well, where I was allowed to fall to the point of breaking. At this point I was reminded of a brother I had that cared for me beyond what I cared to know at that point, for it was through your work that a certain letter came to my knowledge and showed me where I was heading. For this I thank you. I must admit however that this letter did not break me of my stance on God, though I was more aware of His presence. By His grace He did not allow me to resume my old path for long, my condition did not improve as I was placed in a most impossible situation. But what I saw as a long, needless rabbit trail, I now see as the path that was laid for me. This path led me to a familiar place, one that I was left to face alone this time. It was in our playground of old that I finally saw where I was wrong, where I ignored God’s work in my life. He had brought me to a place I did not want to be, and where my life was in great danger, but I found I was not alone, God was with me. I knew it as I sat in that small concrete structure, watching events unfold as my time grew short, and that knowledge comforted me. I then proceeded to face the danger I long feared and as I waited for that final moment, the moment where I either found my life spared or taken, I realized that I had life either way, a new life that I had long kept out of reach. All the lessons, all the sermons (at least the ones I remembered), and all the empty prayers came racing to my mind and I knew contentment for once. In the midst of despair and death, I found joy, a joy that I cannot describe properly, but a joy that filled me and carried me through. Of course, as is such with sinners, still I tried to wander away. When my life after these events didn’t seem to go where I thought they should be, I fell into self pity and once again loathing the encouragement of others, I’m sure it won’t be the last time. Yet once again I found that I cannot rely on myself in any way, and God has brought me back into his fold. So I write you this letter with great thanks for your love and with overwhelming love for our Father who saw fit to bring me through adversity into a light that I cannot survive, but must give in to and leave the old remnants behind. I have decided, due to lack of employment and a desire to find other forms, to move back home. There I plan to start a new life, one of greater joy and blessing, though here I will state that there is a slight detour on my trip home, which through God will contribute to that blessing, there will be more on that later. I hope to see you well and pray for you best keeping in the mean time.

  Love,

  Robert

  18: Distant Memories

  Robert woke with a start. He was sweating, but cold; he had been dreaming of Frennur again. Rising from the ground where he was supposed to be dead, moving around and trying to find his murderer. Abigail woke up next to him and sat up. She noticed him trembling slightly and wrapped her arms around him.

  “It’s okay honey, just a bad dream. Everything is fine, we are here at your mom and dad’s celebrating Christmas, there is nothing to fear.”

  He calmed down and looked at her, his wife, who just so happened to be pregnant with their first.

  “Thank you, I know everything is fine, I’m afraid these dreams will have to last a while longer, though now I know on whose help to rely. Let’s get back to bed; our nephews and nieces will be waking us up early.”

  They lay back down and Robert thought back to that last case. It didn’t scare him when he was awake, but he knew he would carry the wait of Frennur’s death to his own death, but that was how it was going to be. The cop he had shot back on the Marson case still weighed on him as well, but he had sought forgiveness, and though it hadn’t come at first, they now were close friends going on two years. After losing his job in the FBI he married Abigail and they settled down in Colorado Springs where he began a career as a lawyer and now lived close to both families. He took comfort in knowing his actions on that case had brought him many good things beyond the bad memories. He had a beautiful wife, soon a baby, a dear friend, and the joy of hearing that Bartholomew Gatchet was freed of his imprisoned mind. The move to the nursing home allowed his wife to see him more often and when that helped him improve, she moved in with him. Now they lived their together with their lives back. Robert hadn’t heard anything beyond that, his connection with the Gatchet’s was no longer required, but he still kept Mrs. Gatchet’s letter to remind himself of what his life was like without God.

  He slowly started to drift off to sleep with all these latest thoughts in his mind. His life wasn’t perfect, and he still fell into his old habits from time to time, but he would pick himself up with the knowledge of Christ’s redeeming blood and move on; with the help of his lovely wife of course.

  “I am content, yes, I am content.”

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  About the author:

  I picked up an enjoyment of writing in high school, spending most of my efforts on short prose. In the following years I have attempted a few short stories, but never succeeded in turning an idea into a story, complete with development of my characters. It wasn’t until the year of 2009, after five years of marriage with my beautiful wife and three wonderful children, that I woke up one morning with an eerie dream imprinted in my mind. This dream consisted only of the museum and the howling tree trunk described in the first two chapters, but it led to the climax of the book, and from there, during many a lunch break and late evening, I found my way to this book. I hope you enjoyed reading it as I had writing it. For more information on further works as well as short prose, see my facebook page below.

  https://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/pages/Matthew-Benefiel/208987132452209