Triple Feature

 Good morning!

This week has been crazy. Lot's of packing boxes with books, lots of moving books and shelves, lots of figuring out what we can put in storage for a few months, several trips to the storage unit with loads of boxes and things. We no longer have books in the halls. We don't have books or audios in the sewing room. Mom & Dad's room is almost devoid of books as well. It's all crazy. We're waiting until the last minute to move my sister and her sewing stuff upstairs. Still have no idea when we're going to actually start tearing walls out.

I'm trying to keep my sanity by doing a little writing. I can't even think about working on one of my longer stories that needs figuring out. Right now I'm doing good to write short little things from the picture prompts and word of the day that are being shared at camp. And today you get three of my little stories.

As you'll see, all three of these is different. But they're all short. Happy reading.

 

 #1

“Come on, Katja,” Rylie begged. “You just have to go to the party tonight.”
Katja shook her head as the two sisters entered the house. The ceiling was high and gave the feeling that one was in a vaulted church instead of an old house. Two marble pillars stood guard the one at the foot of the winding stairs, and the other directly opposite at the end of the entry way.
“All the girls will be there.”
“I’m not going, Rylie,” Katja replied, starting up the stairs.
“Walter, Emil, and Hans will all be there.”
On the landing where the stairs curved and sunlight flooded in through the large window, she turned to her sister. “Rylie, I don’t care who is going to be there tonight. I’m not going. I have studying to do that can’t wait. Besides, I promised Suzette that I’d help her with her studying.”
“You’re no fun. I thought sisters were supposed to go places and do things together. You won’t. Maybe you really aren’t my sister.” Rylie tossed her head.
Katja gave a little sigh and breathed a quick prayer for patience. “Rylie, I am your sister and I love you dearly, but I have already said I can’t go. Everyone knows I can’t go, and nothing you say will goad me into changing my mind.”
At that Rylie slumped against the window ledge. “I know. I just don’t want to go alone.”
“Then stay and help Suzette and I study. You are good at quizzing me. Maybe it would help Suzette too.”
Rylie straightened. “You really want me to stay?”
“I really do.” Katja made no mention about her worries over her sister attending that party alone.
“All right,” Rylie said, “I’ll stay. But you’ll really have to study if I’m helping.”
With a laugh, Katja started up the rest of the stairs. “Yes, teacher.”

 

 #2

 It was a tiny village nestled between two towering cliffs. Many days the clouds obscured the tops of the mountains, and hid the village from view. Only a few dozen people still lived in the village year round for many had grown up and moved to larger cities leaving behind the seclusion, the quietness, and the safety of home. Some came back for visits but they never stayed long.
“There’s just nothing to do here,” was the remark of several of the younger villagers who had returned.
It was true that there was only one way to reach the village and that was by a narrow road no larger than a small horse drawn wagon. No cars or trucks would make it over the winding road and so the village had been left as it had been for over a hundred years.
The white-washed houses and shops, the church with it’s tall steeple looking down over everything and the roads which ran up and down hill gave the village a pleasant, relaxing feature.
“If there were just more things to do.”
“And easier access to the outside.”
These were the sentiments often repeated until that day that Kenzie arrived with news.
The world was at war.
Germany had swallowed up Poland, marched into Austria, and France and England had declared war. Russia was involved and who knew if the United States would join as they had twenty some years before.
“We must fortify the village!” The old butcher exclaimed.
“Yes! But how?”
“We should guard the road.”
“And the mountains!”
“We need guns and ammunition.”
Mr. Wagner, the village minister shook his gray head. Slowly, he made his way to the church and mounted the steps before the doors. He looked up and saw the low clouds. Turning, he lifted his hands to quiet the people. “My friends,” he began, his voice still strong, “our village is fortified. Do you see those towering cliffs on either side of us? The clouds that hang low? We could attempt to destroy the only way into our village and risk starving ourselves, or we can trust in the only living Fortification.” He looked about him. “Our Lord is our Refuge and our Strength. He is our Fortress, our Stronghold in the day of trouble. Let us, in this time of trouble and worry go to our knees before our Lord and plead for Him to fortify our souls for the days that lie ahead.”
There was silence a moment and then as Mr. Wagner got slowly to his knees on the stone steps, the villagers followed his example until every person knelt in the tiny village and pleaded for the Lord to fortify their hearts for the coming trials.

 

 #3

  I walked down the road out of town but saw no sign of him. Where had he gone? It wasn’t like my husband to just disappear without telling me. As the sun sank lower I gave a slight shiver, not because I was cold, but because–well, I’ve always been timid in the dark.
“Annie?”
Starting, I turned and saw him. He had left the road was standing at the edge of a field of poppies. The sun seemed to make them glow as they nodded their bright heads in the soft evening breeze. Carefully making my way across the ditch and up the little hill, I reached my husband’s side.
“Were you looking for me?”
I nodded not mentioning my concern.
He seemed to guess it anyway. “Sorry.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. “I was feeling . . . Well, it was . . .” He stopped and started again. “I guess I could liken it to the feeling of a wild animal trapped in a cage. No.” He shook his head and sighed. “Maybe I could best liken it to feeling suffocated, unable to breath freely.”
“Like wearing those gas masks during the war?” I asked softly, leaning my head against his shoulder.
“Yes.”
“The poppies remind you of the war too, don’t they?”
The answer was a scarcely audible, “Yes.”
I slipped my arms around my husband and he pulled me closer.
“In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row.”
The sun sank lower as my husband murmured the words of the poem. I knew he was seeing again the horrors of that battlefield. Was there anything I could say to help? “They gave their lives for freedom,” I whispered.
“I know. I just wish I could have talked to them all about Jesus and His sacrifice for our salvation.”
Tears welled up in my eyes. This husband of mine surprised me in so many wonderful ways. “God didn’t place them all in your life, darling. You share where God puts you and leave the rest to Him.”
I felt his cheek against the top of my head. “I’ll try to remember that, sweetheart. Thank you.”

 Did you read all 3 stories?

Which did you like best?

Do you want more of my prompt stories?