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Writer's pictureJaela Deming

My Most Polished Short Story:)

I wrote this short story a year or so ago while working through an online writing program, but didn't really invest in editing it until last summer when I decided to enter it in a young writer's contest. While I was bummed when it didn't even make it to an 'honorable mention' status, I'm still proud of how it turned out after many rounds of editing. Thank you to everyone who gave feedback on it when I was polishing what started out as a crummy first draft!


You Are Mine

Throwing back my covers, I stretched and opened my eyes to see…nothing. Utter

blackness surrounded me. My sleepy mind struggled to comprehend, expecting the usual neon

glow of my clock in the dark of the night.

Puzzled, I stood up. Groping for the wall, I followed it with hope of finding my lamp on

the nearby dresser. An explosion of heat hit my face and broke me out of my sleep-induced

lethargy. I stumbled backward across the room to the opposite wall. What was happening? Was

my bedroom on fire? Where was the orange glow of flames? As I turned and began fumbling

along the wall, my heartbeat quickened. The heat seemed to increase as I shuffled along.

Unexpectedly, my hand brushed against a light switch. I flicked it on, falling against the

wall in horror. My breath caught in my throat and my palms began to sweat. This wasn’t my

bedroom. There was no furniture, windows, or doors. I was trapped. Looking around in terror,

freakish walls caught my attention. Images of everything I’d ever thought or done wrong covered

them. Scene after scene after scene. Feelings of shame and humiliation swept over me as all my

sinfulness was grotesquely exposed for examination.

The room was becoming excruciatingly hot and beginning to smell of sulphur. Movement

suddenly caught my eyes. I turned just in time to see a shadowy form materialize through the

wall on the far side of the room, filling me with terror. The repulsive odor heightened and I

shivered, collapsing to the floor. The room became stifling, as if all the oxygen had suddenly

been sucked out of it.

I had yet to see the form’s face, but evil seemed to emanate from him, enveloping me like

a poisonous fog. It felt like I was being smothered. I choked. My legs trembled beneath me and

wouldn’t move as he turned toward me. His eyes glowed with a dark hatred that deepened with each passing second. The demon glared at me, then began to examine the images on the walls

with obvious glee. Peering at him with dread, I shook uncontrollably. I had never known such

fear. Occasionally, the evil spirit would glance my way with an ominous chuckle. I curled up

miserably and buried my face in my hands, unable to watch anymore.

When I could bear the terrible suspense no longer, I peered out from between my fingers

to find the nefarious figure hovering above me. His sinister gaze fixed on me, he sneered with a

twisted delight. The wall behind him suddenly crumbled, revealing a smoking lake of fire.

Screams and groans filled the silence, punctuated by wicked laughter. The demon stretched out

his hand toward me and an unseen force lifted me to my feet, propelling me closer and closer to

the abyss. I fought against it in terror and desperation, but my efforts were futile. The pull was

even stronger now, and the heat so intense, I felt I might be roasted alive. I was shaking so badly

that if not for the unseen force drawing me toward my fate, I would be a convulsing pile of flesh

and bones on the floor. Now, at the edge of the chasm, I was confronted by my imminent and

eternal destruction.

A thought prickled my mind. I pushed it away, overcome by shame. Yet…

“YESHUA!” I cried out to the only One I knew could help me. The One whose name I

had called upon in my youth. The One I’d turned from. Cowering for a moment, the demon

covered his face with his hands. When nothing happened, he turned his attention back to me,

scowling and glaring hatefully at me. My pinprick of hope faded. The Savior had left me. I had

abandoned Him for idols of my own making, and now it was too late. Despair took hold of my

gut.

I teetered on the edge of the boiling inferno recoiling from the terrible judgment before

me. Losing my balance, I began to fall. Suddenly, a blinding light filled my vision and I was yanked back from the verge. I closed my eyes against the luminous brightness that now shattered

the darkness. A hideous shriek reverberated off the walls and I shuddered. Everything fell silent.

Completely silent. A strange calm came over me, and I stopped trembling.

I slowly opened my eyes, allowing them to adjust to the room’s brilliant glow. The

demon was gone. The wall had been restored, blocking both the lake of fire and the eerie

screams that had echoed from it.

My focus was drawn to the source of the light, and I began to tremble yet again. A man,

dressed in white, stood in the center of the room. A gold ringlet encircled his brow. His eyes

were penetrating, yet gentle. He held a shining sword, but it wasn’t the weapon that caught my

attention. It was his hands. Pierced through as though by nails. As the realization of who this was

sank in, shame once again swept through me. Who was I to be in the presence of the Lord? I had

turned away from Him and chased after my own desires. I lowered my head, unable to bear the

glory of His gaze.

“I’m sorry, my King.” It was all I could say as I sobbed. I had no excuses. It was my own

fault. I had allowed the devil to have his way with me, and now it was too late.

“My child.” His voice was soft, almost a whisper.

“How can you call me your child? Look at everything I’ve done.” I motioned brokenly at

the walls, still holding records of all my wrongdoings. He just smiled tenderly as He walked to

the wall and placed His hand over an image. A single drop of red blood flowed down the scene

causing it to fade away. He did the same to the next image and the next and the next. I watched

in wonder, tears silently coursing down my cheeks. Slowly, as the blood washed each image

away, a pure white wall with an arched golden door and ornate lock appeared. He continued around the room, erasing my every wrong deed with His blood. When the last one disappeared,

He turned to me, nobility displayed in every move.

“My grace is enough.”

I fell to my knees and wept freely. My Savior knelt in front of me and lifted my face to

meet His, tenderly wiping away my tears. Peace broke through my shame, filling my heart and

soul as I gazed into His loving eyes. He took my hand and gently placed an elegant key in my

palm.

“Once chosen, always chosen. You are mine.”

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