Thursday, March 10, 2011

Christian stood at the entrance to the door and felt excited. He did not wonder at the feeling, for this is what he had anticipated his whole life. On the other hand, if this turned out to be another deal that fell flat, he might just give up hope. He had been searching for so long. He had sought so diligently. And then, when he had declared it quits and was sitting dejectedly on the steps of a house in an alley, an older man (whose age would have been impossible to guess, for He looked both young and old, and so wise) came up to him and asked "Would you like another chance to make it?" Christian was surprised at how astute and accurate this man's guess was. If only it were real, if only it weren't a scam. But in the weeks that followed, as he asked questions and probed for information, the man never hesitated and always answered immediately, faithfully, patiently, and lovingly. The last was the most attractive aspect of the man. Christian had never felt true love. There was always a self-centeredness behind any love or kindness that had been offered to him. And either this man was the best actor Christian had ever met (which was doubtful, Christian had worked with the best in the industry) or He genuinely meant the love and friendship and kindness that extended from Him towards Christian. Christian was shocked. Didn't this man realize that love just wouldn't cut it in this world? Didn't He realize how cruel the world was-it would pretend to be your friend, take your money, and throw you to the rats, Christian bitterly thought.
"What's the point of living?" he once asked the man in a despairing moment. The man looked at him with His knowing eyes and with a compassionate gaze said "I can show You." His knowing eyes were unnerving. He knew everything about Christian, Christian just knew. He could feel it. The man knew that Christian struggled with addictions. He knew that he was on drugs. He knew. But still He supported him, He held him when Christian almost fell over, He comforted when Christian was at his wit's end. But then, gradually, He had begun to consume more of Christian's life; He had filled up all of the empty space in his life, in his heart, and had pushed the drugs out. As Christian's body raged, the man was the one who helped him through it. All that had been years ago. Yesterday, the man had said it was time for Christian to go to this theatre and rekindle his old flame for acting. Christian had ignored the man. The man had been hinting at it for months now, slightly becoming ever consistent. This morning Christian woke up to find the man gone-the Man who had been his constant companion for years-never once leaving Christian's side.

Christian thought to himself, "just like all the rest" as he went downstairs for breakfast. But there he found a note from the man. He eagerly snatched the note up, even as he scolded himself for caring about the man-after all, the man had left. "Christian," the note began, "I am at the Humble Theatre." The Humble Theatre. It was a small modest place. Christian and the man had often walked by it, Christian ignoring it, the man quietly drawing attention to this aspect of its architecture or that play that was currently being performed.
Christian turned the note over. It was blank. So that's all it said! The man assumed that Christian would come running to Him, dependent upon Him, huh!
"Well," Christian decided, "I'll show Him!" So Christian went through the day pretending nothing was wrong. Except something was wrong. Something was terribly lacking. he didn't have the strength or energy he had when the man was around. Even worse-he felt the way he had felt when he was addicted-he felt that there was no point in life without the man. Too late, Christian realized that he had simply switched from one addiction to another, mistakingly believing himself free from all addictions. He was now addicted to the man. That night, as Christian went to bed, he was miserable. He tossed and turned and rolled over all night. In the morning, his resolve that he had had the previous night-which was to get rid of this addiction-was gone, as it normally was. He resignedly ate, dressed, and went out the door, heading to the Humble Theatre.

8 comments:

  1. This is from Abby,
    Very good job,loved it! Can't wait for more and then the book!

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  2. Aw, thanks! :) I like your picture. :) I'm not getting anymore inspirations right now for continuations though.... :(

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  3. Oh is there any way I can give you inspiration.
    Like Please Becky Please.
    lol

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  4. wow you can't tell what i wrote, write write write.

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  5. rofl...I wish the comments could be put into a different font...
    I'm writing the other story right now. :)

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