Category Archives: Faithwriters

The Reason

Chapter 5
The Reason

As she walked towards the front door, Kate wondered why she kept on doing this. Yesterday was a nightmare. She cried herself to sleep last night. At first, this was just for the money, but now it was so much more. No longer was the money a reason. She had enough saved to pay off her bills so she did not need to continue. Still she did. Why?

Walking in, she went into the room where he sat. He did not acknowledge her presence. It felt like she was not in the room with him. Her heart broke again. Each day began the same way and ended the same way. She decided to sit opposite him and let him continue with what he was doing. Oh, how she loved him. It broke her heart every time she left him and went home. But she knew she couldn’t stay. She had her own life to live.

Lost in her thoughts she didn’t notice that he had turned his attention to her. He called at her the only way he knew how, but she did not respond. He called again. Still she did not respond. So he did the one thing he felt would get her attention.

He spat at her.

Shocked Kate turned and looked at him. Then she remembered the instructions she had been following with him for the past year. She got up, avoided eye contact and took up a wipe. Gently she wiped herself and then walked up to him and wiped his mouth. She looked at what he was doing and saw the painting he was making. She wanted to tell him she was sorry. She had not intentionally ignored him, that the finger painting was beautiful. However, if she did that, it would mean she was condoning his behavior.

It was so hard. Deciding which to follow; the instructions of the doctor or the tugging’s of her heart. She knew what she had to do. She ignored him and went about looking for another alternative to redirect his attention. She had to stay neutral, less he feeds off her reaction.
Immediately she turned from him, he started pinching her. He wanted her attention now and she wasn’t giving him. She knew he was acting out in frustration. Therefore, she did what the doctor had told her. In a calm, monotonous voice devoid of any emotion, she said;

“Tony hands down. No pinching.”

He stopped immediately and looked directly into her eyes.

Kate wanted to hug him and tell him she understood why he was agitated. However, she could not; for to do so will go against all that they were trying to teach him. Consistency was the key otherwise; he would start getting mixed message. Picking up a lollipop from the table, she opened it and gave to him. He gulped it in delight forgetting completely the reason he had thrown a fit a few seconds earlier.

And so the day began for both of them; the nanny and her ward. As the hours progressed, each one filled with trials and triumphs, Kate reveled in the beauty of the child’s innocence and gained strength from the joy she saw in his eyes every time he got something right and communicated his requests without throwing tantrums.


Finally, his mother came back from work and it was time for her to leave. She bent down to buckle her sandals. He ran up to her and placed a wet, sloppy kiss on her cheeks, then ran back to his mother to seek her attention.

Kate smiled as his mother whispered the words ‘thank you’ to her. His mother then held Tony’s hands; the hands of her non-verbal, five years old autistic son and walked into the kitchen.

This was it. The ritual he did each day when she was about to leave was the reason she had not stopped. His appreciation and love shown the only way he knew how to. His kiss.

At day’s end, when her body ached and she relaxed for a night rest, Kate remembered why she went back each day, a child’s love.

Excerpt from Timeless Love: 15 Flash Fiction Stories by Edith Edremoda




Continuous Creation…


Continuous Creation
by Abby Kelly

I started off to wonder,
How the trees and skies were made.
How shadows follow fingers
And butterflies parade,
Round roses, daisies, buttercups
And only for a season,
Then disappear, to come next year
With hardly any reason.

How the breeze can be so winsome
And terrify me too.
One night’s sky an angry yellow,
The next one, navy blue.

How can my face be worn and lined?
The skin once baby-smooth and fine.
How can my one same spirit
Live inside an aged frame?
My one same spirit
Growing through the change?

Perhaps it’s not that creation was
It wasn’t yesterday.
Maybe God still speaks life,
And and breathes souls
Today and everyday.

I chased these thoughts throughout the day,
And took them last to Scripture.

“Lord,” I said, “I don’t understand
“How all these things can be.
You made earth once, but I still see
Your hand in everything.”

“Daughter,” Abba slow replied,
“The world spins within my hand.
And every breath that’s taken,
Yes, those are all mine too.
Yes, I once created,
But I’m always making new.”

Revelation 21:5 “And He who sits on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” And He *said, “Write, for these words are faithful and true.”

Amos 4:13 “For behold, he who forms the mountains and creates the wind, and declares to man what is his thought, who makes the morning darkness, and treads on the heights of the earth
the LORD, the God of hosts, is his name!”

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Article Source: WRITERS

The Crimson Path

The Crimson Path
by Jenna Fernandez


Eli wiped the blood from his son’s cheek with a small piece of cloth torn from his tunic. In the dim starlight, he could see the tears—and the fear, in Caleb’s eyes. Looking down, he wrapped his dagger in the cloth and stuffed it in the bottom of his sack.

“Son…please. Remember. Don’t say a word about where we’ve been, who we are…or what I’m planning to do.” As Eli expected, Caleb responded with silence. He hadn’t heard his son’s voice since that night a few years back.

Leaving the shadows and walking into the light of the town, Eli searched for an inn with a vacancy. Caleb followed close behind, carrying his wounded lamb tightly in his arms. They finally came to an inn near the end of the road. Vacancy. Eli hesitated, then knocked.

A grandfatherly inn keeper opened the door. “Yes?” He narrowed his eyes and leaned in toward Eli, looking intently from him to his son.

Eli lowered his gaze and shifted his sack in his hands. “Um…my son and I are looking for a place to stay. Just for the night.”

“Well, then. You’re the last one in for the day.” The man hobbled over to the sign that hung just in front of his inn and turned it around. No Vacancy.

“And sir, one more thing. My son’s lamb. It was wounded. On the journey. Is there a place we can care for him?”

The man said nothing, then turned and led them toward the back of the inn. Though the man walked with a cane, Eli and Caleb struggled to keep up with him. Finally, they came to a stable that housed several animals.

“You can leave the lamb here for the night. Aaron will care for him.” The innkeeper gestured toward one of his servants.

Watching as Caleb gripped the lamb more tightly, Eli placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The servant turned from tending one of the other animals and reached for the lamb. From the look on the servant’s face, Eli could tell the lamb’s wounds would be difficult—if not impossible, to heal.

“What brings you to Bethlehem, Eli?” The innkeeper looked deep into Eli’s eyes.

“What? How do you…know…my name?”

“I know your Uncle Levi. And I knew your parents. You came here to Bethlehem once when you were little. Looked a lot like your son, here.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t remember.”

“I was a lot younger, then.” The innkeeper laughed gently, then narrowed his eyes and spoke with compassionate intensity. “You’re walking a crimson path Eli. But it can end here. In Bethlehem.” Tears glistened in the man’s eyes.

“I don’t understand…” Eli watched as the servant cared for the lamb.

“You can avenge your parents. You can avenge your wife. But where will that lead you? When will the crimson path end? Will your son walk this road with you?”

“You don’t even know me.”

“Your Uncle Levi came here not long ago. Looking for you. He’s worried. You have family, Eli. You’re not alone. And they’ve suffered your loss as well. You need to stop running.”

Putting his arm around his son, Eli turned from the stable toward the inn.

Looking to the sky, the inn keeper smiled. “It’s starting to snow. This path might be covered by morning. Come, let’s get inside before it gets too cold.”

When they reached the door to the inn, a young couple was just arriving. The woman on the donkey was pregnant, and the husband seemed desperate.

“Please, sir. My name is Joseph. My wife’s in labor, but all the inns are full. We need a room. If only for tonight.”

“I’m sorry, sir. There are no rooms in the inn.” The innkeeper paused, then sighed. “But we can make room for you in the stable.” He quickly led the couple away.

Later that night, as Eli and Caleb prepared to sleep, they heard singing in the distance. Caleb tilted his head.

“It’s probably the shepherds.” Eli smiled at his son. “In winter, they stay closer to town.”

Caleb shook his head and smiled.

“You’re right,” Eli laughed. “Shepherds don’t sing that good.”

When Caleb was finally asleep, Eli drifted into a dream. In his dream, he was burdened to walk through all the years of history. He saw the wars, the destruction and the violence—the broken families, households and relationships that lined the way. All colored in crimson red. In the end, he heard the innkeeper whispering, “When will the crimson path end?”

Startled awake, Eli saw that Caleb was not next to him. He ran out to the street, and was nearly blinded by the light of one of the stars. A fresh blanket of snow had fallen on the pathway that led to the stable.

Surprised to hear voices in the middle of the night, Eli rushed ahead. There, under the light of the star, he saw Caleb. Talking. To some shepherds.

“Hey, Dad!” Caleb smiled and held out his lamb, healed from its wounds. “Look, Dad, look! Not even a scar! And guess what? We were right. Shepherds don’t sing so good. At least not these ones. But angels do!”

Tears flooded Eli’s eyes at the sound of his son’s voice.

“And Dad? This is Mary and Joseph. The ones with the donkey, remember? They had a baby and everyone’s saying he’s a king or something. His name’s Jesus. But his nickname’s Immanuel. It means ‘God is with us.’ Look, Dad, look!”

Eli felt a hand around his shoulder, and turned to see the innkeeper.

“This is the promised Savior we’ve been waiting for. The Prince of Peace. And this peace comes not as the world gives, Eli.” The innkeeper’s eyes sparkled as he looked toward the baby in the stable. “Kings are worthy of the greatest of gifts, you know.” He turned toward Eli. “The crimson path can end here. For you. Tonight.”

Stepping forward then falling to his knees where the baby lay, Eli began to weep. “My King. You know that all we have was taken from us. Our family. Our home. Our belongings. But there’s one thing I can give you.”

Early in the morning, before the sun began to rise, Eli buried his dagger deep in the ground beneath the snow. When his son awoke, they prepared for their journey. As the sun met the sky, Eli and Caleb walked down a new path—their footprints paving the way in the freshly fallen snow.

Copyright Jenna Fernandez

Article Source: WRITERS

Angels In The Trees

by linzy bruno


Once I dreamed I lived near a stream
that played a melody, like a song;
the air was clean, the animals my friends
and my brother and I got along.

First in my dream, I could see a bright star
shining in the light of day;
I stared and I stared and I rubbed my eyes,
but still it did not go away.

After I saw the star, I thought I must be dreaming, so I got out of my bed;
I went outside and it was still daylight,
in the night time?
Was I out of my head?

But this dream was not frightening,
not a single tear did I shed;
I went to the stream that was singing
and there were two birds about to wed.

The birds said they were delighted to see me
and they placed wild flowers in my hair;
they told me to be their flower girl;
I said I would, although I wasn’t really there!

I said: “this is all very magical”
and just then my brother appeared there too;
then the birds startled us by saying:
“there are angels in the trees”
and away they flew.

My brother and I spent the rest of my dream
looking for angels in the trees;
we asked around the yard, inquiring the grasshoppers, butterflies and bees.

Then the birds that were just wed
came swooping down at us two
and they said: “the angels told us God loves all living things” and away they flew.

My brother and I looked into the tree
and said: “angels are you inside?”
and then a voice came from the tree
that whispered:
“we are here to be your guide.”

I know it wasn’t real:
birds having a wedding
and a stream singing a song
and in real life it’s true;
my brother and I don’t always get along

But even though birds can’t really wed
and there was no message from any tree;
I know now God loves us all
and angels, no matter where they are,
are watching me.

Article Source: WRITERS

An Exhibition, A Painting and A Church

“I have never seen anything like it” John said in awe.

“Neither have I. I wonder what it means or what the artist is trying to show.”

“I have no Idea.” John replied. “Maybe the artist intention was to create an abstract concept.”

“You could be right. But I am still a bit confused. An abstract concept of what? I see what looks like a cross, I see people. But there is no background scenery. Nothing about it tells us what he is trying to depict.”

Both men stood among the art enthusiast in the gallery looking at the exhibition. Other people  close by also were discussing or staring in awe at the same painting. It drew people to it. It was painted with beautiful strokes that could rival the great works of Leonardo Da Vinci. Not one of them could say what the painting was about.

A young young woman walked up to the people gathered round the painting. After a minute of staring at the painting said,

“Oh Wow. It’s a church.”

John turned, looked at her and said,
“Why  do you think it’s a church? No church I know looks like this. Whether painted as real or as an abstract.”

She smiled then and replied,

“I believe that is the artist desire. If you really look at it, you will see it is a church. A church without walls.”

John laughed out loud and said,
“This artist is brilliant and gifted but I do not think he is borderline crazy.” he turned to look at his friend, “Can you believe what she is saying? That it is a painting of a church. Who would paint a church that has no walls? When has churches never had walls. Such churches don’t exist. I know my church has walls.”

“Yes they do exist.”

“No they don’t. John argued. When the young woman protested, John said

“If they do exist, give me an example of one.”

Smiling the young woman said,
“The Set Apart Church.”

“I have never heard of it. Where is it located?” John asked.

“It’s located everywhere.”

John could not help but laugh. This young woman definitely had lost her mind.

“Why do you laugh sir? Do you think it is impossible for a church to be everywhere? The set apart church is an online non denominational church built for individuals who have issues with going to church or can’t make it to church based on their busy schedule. It can be found everywhere there is internet access. It is a church online hence a church without walls.”

John laughed without mirth. The young woman on seeing he was not convinced asked,

“Sir if I may ask, what is a church?”
Shocked at her question John said with a huge smile,

“A building used for public Christian worship.” with a smirk, John added, “my dear, note the word ‘building’ for a building cannot exist without walls”

“Yes you are right. But it is only when you look at the definition of the church from a literal point of view. Without worshippers a church is just a building. With worshippers it becomes the body of Christ. Sir, remove the building and leave just the people, there will still be a church. Remove the people and leave the building, all you have left is a structure. Nothing more.”

John listened as she spoke. He looked at the painting again and only then did he start seeing what the painting was trully about.

“A church without walls is a place where man, woman and child of every race, tribe and tongue can gather to fellowship in God’s presence. Although it is a church online, it is still a place where people can come to worship and find peace. That’s what I think the artist is trying to show. That with God, there are no walls.” after a pause, she continued.

“I have a friend who is a geologist. The nature of his job demands he is always on the rig. A place where there is no church. He is one person I know whose life has been changed by The Set Apart Church.”

With that final comment, the young woman walked away leaving John and his friend to ponder at her words. After a few minutes, John turned to his friend and said with a smile,

“She is right. The painting truly is about a church without walls.”