Category Archives: Angels

Excerpt Wednesday – The Tree Lady & Her ‘Ghost’

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Here’s an excerpt I really had fun writing. Sam delivers an order from the market to Mrs. Jasper, an eccentric lonely widow who is not so alone after all…

 

Mrs. Jasper invited Sam to sit at her pine kitchen table that was happily situated by a large window, with a view of her backyard garden. He watched a scarecrow’s ragged sleeve flutter in the breeze as she bustled around her kitchen, setting the water to boil, preparing the teapot, teacups, linen napkins, crystal bowls and her best silver spoons. Each bowl and cup so delicate, he thought they might break if he just looked at them.

Filling the room, the aroma of a simmering stew drifted from a large pot on the stove. It was quiet enough to hear the stew bubbling from under the lid that was slightly askew.

As she presented a serving bowl full to the brim with her award-winning cobbler, his attention was abruptly pulled from the dessert. That hair-prickling-on-the-back-of-your neck kind of feeling overcame him when a voice invaded his mind.

“I’m watching you,” it hissed in an unnatural whisper.

As he turned to find the voice, he saw a shadow rush past the kitchen door, and heard the rapid cadence of small shoes clicking down the hallway. He looked at Mrs. Jasper, who was apparently aware of it too, but proceeded to spoon the cobbler into her dainty bowl, humming.

“Don’t worry, that’s just Elizabeth playing in the hall again. She’s a little shy of strangers.”

“Who’s Elizabeth?”

“Well, I know some folks think I’ve lost my marbles, but Elizabeth, she’s the ghost of a little girl who used to live here. I looked it up in the town hall records. Little Elizabeth Morgan Jasper. She was my late husband’s cousin who passed away when she was only five years old. I have a picture of her in a drawer in the parlor. I’ll show you,” she said, as she shuffled into the next room.

Sam waited quietly, staring at the doorway. The cuckoo clock on the kitchen wall chirped once, marking quarter till four. It startled him, but he never moved his eyes from the hall.

“Here it is,” she said, returning to her seat, giving a yellowed photograph to him. He looked at it, still keeping one eye on the hall. “Wasn’t she a doll? Those lovely ringlets. You know, I wish girls would still wear their hair that way, but I guess it’s too old-fashioned. And have you ever seen so many freckles? She was adorable. I’m sure it pained her mother greatly when the Lord took her home at such an early age. Maybe that’s why she’s here…searching for her mother.”

Sam knew better. There were no ghosts.

The tea kettle eased into a full whistle, and Mrs. Jasper rose to silence it. Sam watched her take a pot holder from a hook on the wall. As she turned the knob on the stove, the whistle died, and he turned back towards the door to find the little girl from the photo in the doorway.

“Hello,” the little girl said with a sweet voice that echoed into eeriness. She smiled at him, and then her ringlets bobbed as she turned and ran down the hall with a giggle.

“Uh…may I use your restroom?” Sam asked, his eyes still glued to the doorway.

“Yes, dear. Down the hall and on the right.”

He ventured out of the kitchen, alert to all his surroundings. With the same feeling of being watched, he skulked down the hall with care to prohibit the wood floor from creaking. No sign of the so-called Elizabeth. He crept past a small table in the hall, just under the stairs. On the table were more framed photographs—he assumed they were Mrs. Jasper’s family. He recognized a young Mr. Jasper next to a Model-T in one of the photos.

Just as his eyes left the photograph, he sensed motion on the stairs above him. He looked up to find ‘Elizabeth’ crouching low and peering at him under the banister. Sam, holding his breath, waited to see what she would do.

 

To read this and more…

http://www.amazon.com/Knights-Angel-Realm-Guarding-ebook/dp/B004X1XCDE

It’s Excerpt Wednesday…

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A sudden, overpowering blast of light and rushing wind threw them to the ground— wicker chairs and all. The horses scattered in fear. Sam found himself instinctively on his knees, curled up into the tightest ball he could form with his body— like a prisoner taking a beating, trying to protect himself from the next blow. As he shook uncontrollably, he began to put his mind around it as light forced its way into his sealed eyelids. Had a bomb exploded? Was it a meteor? Wondering if the girls were all right, he found the courage to investigate the scene.

Lifting his head and forcing his eyes open, he squinted and blinked until he could see through the glare. The angel from Sam’s visions floated as if weightless above his trembling head. Frozen with an otherworldly fear, he gaped at the angel that appeared even more magnificent than before.

The angel’s beauty radiated from within. He resembled a hawk suspended on a substantial air stream, his garments billowing in the wind like swelling ocean waves. His soul-piercing, blue eyes aligned with Sam’s. Sam felt the urge to flee, if his feet would work. He couldn’t breathe let alone run.

Tallulah scooted closer to them, looking thrilled at this encounter, while the wind whipped through her hair. “Can you believe this?” she exclaimed, the only one that could even muster words.

An expression of kindness seemed to wash over the angel’s face as he finally spoke, his voice commanding respect as it fell upon them. “Do not be afraid. I am Armada. Your presence is required in the Angel Realm. Follow me.” He turned around, not waiting for a response.

Tallulah’s backyard and woods— gazebo and all— had vanished, and in their place stood an enormous golden staircase, the width of each step measuring wider than a city block. It ascended for miles, disappearing into a blinding light. The stairs shone like a mirror of pure gold. Bending with each step, their reflections gawked back at them. Armada floated above the stairs, rising at a majestic pace.

Finding the courage from beneath the shock, Sam stood, and held out his hands for the girls. Standing together, facing the staircase, they watched as Armada ascended.

With jittery knees, hand-in-hand, Sam, Hayley, and Tallulah began to climb.

 

Knights of the Angel Realm: Guarding Carthage… an excerpt

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Sam found himself at the top of the visitor’s bleachers, alone. The rest of the team began the routine of stretches and drills in unison on the grass below.

Rain lurked in the gray sky that matched Sam’s state of mind. An oppressive gloom settled-in, suffocating all that mattered to him.

Somehow he had survived the first day of school in spite of feeling numb and lost. He had felt like a stranger among people he’d known all his life. Some had offered their condolences, others looked away unsure of what to say, while most just stared at him with sad eyes.

His father’s death…the crazy vision under the water— he wished he could just erase it all. He wished for his life back.

Giant raindrops suddenly pounded a spastic rhythm of thuds and pings on the wooden bleachers and metal railings as dry surfaces became scarce. The familiar smell of fresh rain on hot asphalt invaded Sam’s nose.

He didn’t budge. Neither did the team. Practice continued in spite of the rain, and in spite of his absence. The cadence of counting out their drills echoed in his ears like a soldiers’ rally before war. He wanted to be a part of it all, he wanted to be down there in the mud with his friends, but without his dad cheering from the stands, everything seemed pointless. And there was mom and the market. She needed him and he knew she would never ask him for help.

Letting the rain saturate him like an abandoned couch in an alley, the sounds finally drilled into his mind, getting the better of him. He bolted down the bleachers, unaware of his destination, just anywhere but there. As he rounded the storage shed by the edge of the track, he thought he was flying under the radar when he slammed into Coach Benson.

“Hey. We’ve been looking for you. Suit up.”

With stringy, wet hair sticking to his face, Sam avoided eye contact with the coach. Instead he just stared a hole through a ride-on lawn mower parked in the mud by the shed.

The coach let out a deep breath. “I know it’s a hard time for you, Sam, but I need to know if you are going to play…or should we go ahead with the backup quarterback, Nick Laird? I can only save your position for so long.”

Sam couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

A backup? Nick Laird? They’ve already replaced me? Not Nick.

“I’ll give you until tomorrow to let me know.” He put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Your dad would’ve wanted you to play. I do, too.” He let go of Sam, turned and walked away through the steady rain.

Sam just stood there, still staring at the mower. He didn’t know what he wanted.

Turning away from the team, he took off in a sprint like he was headed for an end zone, but instead he pounded his way home, Coach Benson’s words echoing through his numb mind.

When he arrived in the back alley, it was still pouring. No one was in sight as he tried to catch his breath.

Back up quarterback?

He leaned over his knees, breathing heavy. The anger inside of him magnified until he picked up a metal trashcan and threw it like a javelin several times against the brick wall. And then, raising it over his head, he brought it crashing down before him. It had nearly caved in completely. After a succession of kicks to its side, he leaned over his knees, his breathing still labored.

An odd feeling prompted him to look at the back door to the market. Two figures stared at him, mouths slightly ajar at what they’d witnessed. On one side was his mother. To the left of her stood Hayley holding a plate of baked goods tied up with a bow.

He froze, unable to explain himself. He hadn’t seen her in weeks. Now she probably thought he was a monster. He was sure he must’ve looked like one.

Hayley gave the plate to Deb, turned and left without a word to Sam.

You Won’t Stop Me, Demon

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“You won’t stop me, demon.”

I’ve said this aloud several times in the last eleven years, for it was eleven years ago when God called me to write. But even though I know demons can’t hurt me unless God allows it, it still can catch me off-guard. And it still creeps me out!

One particular bone-chilling experience was when I was losing precious and much needed beauty sleep (like I’m doing right now! haha) late one night because I was preparing for a writers’ conference. (Yes, it’s true I am the queen of procrastination!) The house was cricket-quiet and the only sounds– besides the cricket– were the tapping keys of my laptop and the occasional printing of my profound writing ; ). I had paused to think about something for a moment when the tiniest of creaks came from the opposite corner of the room in which I sat. I looked in that direction, but found nothing amiss. But before I looked away, the books on a bookshelf jumped off the shelf as if they’d been pushed from behind, and crashed to the ground. The shelf those books had been on then broke loose from the bookshelf, landing on top of the pile.

“You won’t stop me, demon,” were the only words I said as the goosebumps on my arms slowly subsided. You see, fallen angels want to distract and disarm Christians. The more influential the Christian, the harder they try. Demons know we are saved; they can’t win our souls for Satan, but they can discredit us and cause us to be ineffective for Christ… if we let them.

We all have different spiritual gifts: teaching, service, giving, leadership, or hospitality, etc. I have always believed I have the ‘gift of discernment’– that I might be a tad more privy to unspoken and unseen things. The Holy Spirit and random people I’ve known have also confirmed my thoughts on this. Only God truly knows if He has given me this gift, and in the end, what really matters is that I’m following God’s path and not just acting on ‘feelings’.

It’s not good to dwell on dark things, but we must not ignore them either.  Spiritual battles occur all around us, all the time, but demons shouldn’t stop us from doing the job for which God has called us.

Walking with an Angel

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My last post spoke of a writers’ conference I attended in which I was so dissatisfied, I left early, second guessing my ‘mission’ as a Christian author.

I trudged down the steps toward the parking lot, but I was suddenly not alone. A man in his sixties with his arm in a sling walked in the same direction. He smiled and said, “It can be discouraging sometimes.” I smiled back, but I’m sure my smile was accompanied by a perplexed look. It was as if he could read my mind! But then I remembered… I have the worst ‘poker face’ on Earth; I wear my emotions on my sleeve. I resolved that he had just read my expression.

During the twenty seconds it took to reach the parking lot, he told me to hang in there, keep writing, and to not worry about obstacles… God would work them out.  He had said EXACTLY what I needed to hear at that moment. His encouragement filled my heart with hope again and his words echoed and swirled around in my mind as we said goodbye and headed toward our cars.

But as I turned back for one more glimpse at this helpful stranger, I was surprised to find I could no longer see him. I stopped in my tracks and really looked. Scanning the area, I concluded there was nowhere he could have travelled on foot in that small amount of time to be able to disappear like that. I spent the next fifteen minutes searching for this gentleman, but could not find any evidence he’d been there. There were no corners to turn, no buildings to leap inside, no man-holes to sink into, no trees to climb– especially with an injured arm. There were only cars parked in an open lot. Funny thoughts crossed my mind… maybe he was hiding in his trunk? Taking a nap in his back seat? But there hadn’t even been time for him to open a car door when I turned back to look for him.

Had I just been encouraged by a messenger of God?

It is unfortunate that some may cringe at that question… even some Bible-thumpin’ Christians. The spiritual realm seems so distant to us as we run on the treadmill of life sometimes. Angels exist. Don’t shy away from the fact that they are actively involved in your life… holy angels and the fallen ones, too.

I may never know who this ‘man’ really was, but I do know this event shook me enough to keep me writing.