Friday Fiction: Ch-Ch-Cha-Changes

I pulled out another "unfinished" FaithWriters challenge entry (for the topic "Hmph") this week, and decided the reason I couldn't write an ending was because it was good just as it is. Too bad I didn't realize that back then. :)

(The following story is written in 1st person, but is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real people or places are coincidental. I'm very glad my church is NOT like the one on my story. :) )


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CH-CH-CHA-CHANGES

I saw my husband waiting in “our” pew – his balding head a little higher than most of the crowd.

When I spotted Aiesha half-way down the aisle, I squealed and grinned. We’d met at a Ladies Tea this past Tuesday, and she'd been on my heart all week.

Lots of people I invite say they’ll come to worship, but hardly any of them make good on their promise. But here was Aiesha, crossing the invisible barriers of race and status erected by man to step into the hope of God’s love.

Friday Fiction: This Stuff's Not Easy

Welcome to Fiction Friday!

Thank you Karlene for letting me host this week!

Anyone can play - all you need is someplace on the web (like a blog) to post something you've written - a short story, an excerpt from a WIP, or poetry. Then come back here and add a link on the Linky Tool at the bottom. Be sure to follow the other inks to a sampling of fiction by some excellent authors.

I didn't enter this piece for the current FaithWriters challenge. I was playing with a new format, and I know I need to give my characters more character. Please consider this a first-draft of an experiment, and I thank you for being my guinea pigs.

Peace and Love,
Cat

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THIS STUFF'S NOT EASY

“You can’t write this.”

“Uh, duh, Mama, it’s already written. You’re obviously holding it.”

“You know what I mean – publish it, print it, whatever. I can’t believe you wrote this.”

“Why not? People like to read about stuff like this. Scandal sells.”

Word Filled Wednesday: Look to the birds...

If I started keeping count, I wonder if the number of times I've grumbled that there was "nothing" to eat would win out over the number of times I've thanked God for providing the food in my cupboard. I could wear my voice out singing God's praises, and still not begin to thank Him enough for all the blessings He has bestowed upon me. 

Oh, how He loves me!

Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?
Matthew 6:26

For more encouragement, follow the links at Lori's blog, All You Have To Give . If you don't go for the links, please go to look at her blog. It's so pretty! :-)



Counting my blessings,
Cat

Catrina Bradley  
"God rewrote the text of my life when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes." Psalm 18:24 (Msg)

Word Filled Wednesday: Psalm 17:6

Sometimes (like lately), I don't know what else to do but fall on my face before the Lord of mercy, grace and healing, and beg Him to hear me and comfort me. Reading the Psalms reminds me that I am not alone.

I have called upon You, for You will hear me, O God; 

Incline Your ear to me, [and] hear my speech.

Psalm 17:6

Word Filled Wednesday is hosted this week by PennyRaine. Visit her blog for more visual inspiration!!

Be blessed,
Cat

Catrina Bradley  
"God rewrote the text of my life when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes." Psalm 18:24 (Msg)

Friday Fiction: People Are Strange, When You're a Stranger

Hello! It's Fiction Friday!!!

Today, I decided I'd finally finish off a piece I started back in 2008 for the Faithwriters Challenge to illustrate the meaning of the adage "You are known by the company you keep," without using the actual phrase. I liked this one, but ran out of steam, or confidence, or something. So you get to read something never before seen by the public! (A rare occurance for my Friday Fiction.) Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!



PEOPLE ARE STRANGE, WHEN YOU'RE A STRANGER

I can see him hidin' behind the crepe myrtles at the back of the parking lot. Well, I guess "hiding" ain't the right word, cuz I can see him, right? He thinks he's goin to catch me doing something.

And I know he's thinkin that, cuz he's slowed his patrol car to a crawl more than once this summer to call me out.

"I got my eye on you, Son. You best be rememberin' that."

"Where ya headed, Son? Gettin' dark - ya best be gettin' home soon."

My sharp elbow in Jason's ribs succeeds in gettin his attention away from the two shapely chicks sashaying toward the gate.

Friday Fiction: Where the Wind Blows

My Friday Fiction today is a repeat, but if you're fairly new to my blog, it will be new to you.

I've just started reading Francis Chan's "Forgotten God," and was prompted to repost this story, where the Holy Spirit, the forgotten, neglected, person of the Godhead (according to Chan), plays the starring role.

Be blessed,
Cat



WHERE THE WIND BLOWS

All of the Christians have gone home. The church sits empty, save for dust motes floating in multicolored shafts of moonlight, spiders weaving new webs to replace those cleared away by the custodian, and the silent Spirit, Who hovers majestically, lingering long after the bodies of the Church have departed.

Friday Fiction: Chocolate Fix

It's Friday again! And that means Friday Fiction! My story today was written in 2007 for the FaithWriters challenge topic "Anger". Just warning you...

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Chocolate Fix

When Mary heard the front door slam and angry feet stomp down the hall, she grabbed the pig-shaped cookie jar and stationed it strategically in the center of the kitchen table. She had made Chewy Double Chocolate Fudge Delights today, and Piggy was filled to the snout.

Her daughter, Casie, stormed in the room, threw her backpack on the floor, and flopped into a chair.

"Rough day, Casie?"

"Don't wanta talk about it." Her silvery blue eyes narrowed, daring her mother to press her.

"Pick up your backpack, hon. You know better."

With an exaggerated sigh and a groan, Casie leaned over and snagged the bag by a strap. She dragged it toward her and looped it over the back of her chair. She crossed her arms defiantly and her eyes shot daggers at the empty place across the table.

Mary pitied the person Casie imagined sitting in that chair. She lifted the back off of Piggy, releasing the aroma of chocolate into the air. "Would a cookie help?"

Casie looked at her mom. "Help what?" She turned away again, but couldn't help stealing a peek at Piggy.

"What ever it is that has you in a snit. Chewy Double Chocolate Fudge Delights...?"

"Fine. Whatever." Casie sulkily plucked a cookie out of the jar.

"Milk?"

"Mm hmm," she mumbled, her mouth full of Chewy Chocolate Fudge.

Mary set two glasses of milk on the table and joined her daughter.

When Casie had polished off three cookies, and was working on the fourth, Mary tried talking to her again. "Did you get your Lit paper back yet?" Mary asked and nibbled at her own cookie. She knew how much time and effort Casie had put into this assignment. Casie's Lit grade had been a sore subject this year. Mary knew her wanna-be writer daughter could do much better than the numbers reflected, and was glad she finally decided to take the class seriously.

Casie stopped chewing and her eyes narrowed again, some of the Delight going out of them. She took a big gulp of milk, and banged the glass down. "Yep."

"And?"

Instead of answering, Casie twisted in her chair and unzipped her backpack. She rummaged for just a second, then pulled out a thin, stapled stack of pages and flung it at her mom. Mary's own eyes flashed anger, but she saw tears swimming in Casie's, and caught herself before she exploded. Instead, she picked up the report, and looked at the big, red, circled number in the top right corner.

"This is out of how many?"

"A hundred mom, a HUNDRED."

Stunned, Mary looked at the paper again, and read the note the teacher had made.

"This is a well thought-out and well written report. You have never turned in a paper of this caliber before. 'A' -level work. After careful consideration, I am deducting 15 points; this is clearly not your own work."

"What is this, a joke?"

"Nope. I asked him that. He's very serious."

"I...I cant believe it. THIS is what happens when a student works hard to improve? How DARE he accuse you of cheating! I cannot believe this. I am OUTRAGED! I'm calling him, right now."

"No, mom! Don't do that!"

"Oh, I'm doing it. I am going to give him a piece of my mind. This is unacceptable." Mary started to get up.

"NO! Do NOT call him. You'll just make it worse!"

"How can it be worse?"

"It's just not worth it. Forget it." Tears were silently running down her cheeks now, and her voice was quavering.

"Your grade IS worth it! Your REPUTATION is worth it!"

"What would happen to my REPUTATION if my mommy asks the teacher to change my grade?? I'll take care of it - just stay out of it. I'm sorry I even told you."

"I want to help you!"

"Then STAY OUT OF IT!"

Casie sprung from the chair and the weight of her backpack made it tip and crash to the floor. She snatched up the bag and ran sobbing from the room.

Red blotches burned on Mary's cheeks, and her hand shook as she reached for another cookie.


© 2007

We'd love you to join us for Friday Fiction! Our host today is Shelley Ledfords at The Veil Thins. Pop on over and add a link to your own fiction, or just read some fiction by the best Christian writers I know.

Catrina Bradley

"God rewrote the text of my life when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes."
Psalm 18:24 (Msg)