This is from my Creative Nonfiction course I am taking through www.thehabit.co. Assignment: think of a time in which an insight from a story helped you make sense of some experience or problem? If so, tell that story.
What’s wrong with me? I need my husband to hear me, yet hope that he doesn’t. How can they love me—my husband and kids—when I cry, get angry, take too many naps, lash out, and then say I’m sorry. I’m sure I’m unworthy.
I am the rightful King under the Mountain, and shall be forever! The jewels and iron scales that cover me give me armour like tenfold shields!
The store’s crowded, and I’m tired.
“Mom, what color?” “What size?”
My ears feel hot.“How many?” “For whom?”
I take off my sweater and fan my face.
“Look at this.” “Is this what you want?”
I can’t think, can’t breathe in this heat.
“Wait, Mom. Can I … ?”
“JUST A MINUTE, WILL YOU?!?!?!”
I stomp off and circle the store’s uninhabited aisles. When I return,I’m done with shopping. We get in the checkout line, and the kids look at me sideways.
My teeth are swords! My claws are spears! The shock of my tail is a thunderbolt through the sky! The clap of my wings is a hurricane!
“Doctor, I think I’m going crazy.”
A nauseous pink ovoid—what other color would it One pill a day keeps the doctor away. I prefer apples.
“I don’t need it. I’m handling things fine myself. It’s just that there’s something wrong with me. I’m not sleeping well, and I get so hot. I’m tired all the time, and I never feel good. Take a blood test. Check my thyroid. Maybe I have an ulcer.”
“Oh, all right. I’ll try it.”
The King Under the Mountain is dead! I took his throne, I ate his people like a wolf among sheep! I kill where I wish, when I wish! My armour is iron, no blade can pierce me!
“No, doctor, I don’t want it to be depression. I’ve had that before, and this is different. Besides, I’m doing all the right things: I get enough sleep and exercise, take time for friends, eat right. There have been a few stressors, but I’m not a mental case. Well, yes, I cut my dose in half. I hate that pink pill. I don’t want to depend on it every day. I want to do it myself. I pray and take my pills.”
What did he promise you, a share of the treasure? As if it was his to give. I will not part with a single coin!
My breath of fire, my signature, is death.
“He (God) fed you with manna in the wilderness … so that you would become humble and so that your trust in him would grow, and he could do you good. He did it so that you would never feel that it was your own power and might that made you wealthy. … Jehovah your God is not giving you this good land because you are good, for you are not—you are a wicked, stubborn people.” Deuteronomy 8:16-9:6, NIV
My manna is not brown flakes small as hoarfrost, but comes in a plastic bottle with a child-proof cap from the pharmacy. With its help and your abiding presence, I’ve locked the dragon in the cellar, fire-proofed the door, and added two padlocks. Thank you for my manna, and for the good that it does for me.
I can smell you… I can hear your breath, I can feel your breath … Where-Are-You?
Come now… Don’t be shy. Step into the light.
Make me humble and discerning, Lord. Dissolve my stubbornness; give me Your strength. Show me how to be Your disciple and follow in Your footsteps.
Every spirit that acknowledges that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is from God, But every spirit that does not acknowledge Jesus is not from God. This is the spirit of the Antichrist, which you have heard is coming and even now is already in the world. You, dear children, are from God and have overcome them, because the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world. 1 John 4:2-4, NIV
So tell me, thief,
how do you choose to die?
You will burn!
No, dragon. You will burn. In the name of Jesus, get out of my house.
Kathleen S Evenhouse 