The Summer Sisterhood (Part Three)
fiction by Brad Zockoll
My legs turned to jelly, and my throat grew tight. The shadowy figure was yanking on the door in a feverish way. The noise was incredible. We could hear him grunting in fury. I pawed at the walls behind me and tried to keep my balance as I backed down the hallway, hoping to put distance between that evil presence and me. In the candlelight, I glanced at Denise, and I realized that this wasn’t another scheme on her part. She was petrified as much as I was. The man kicked at the door, and I heard wood splinter.
Amanda turned. "The cell phone on the porch!" She dashed toward the front of the house. I could see Kimberly glance quickly at Amanda and pause for a moment.
Kimberly had an idea. She spoke above the noise of the banging. "We’ve gotta distract him. It’ll give Amanda time to get that phone. Let’s get closer to him."
I nodded, but I don’t know whether or not she saw me in the dark. I followed her lead as she drew near the door and started screaming, yelling and making noise. I started to help her but as I heard another piece of wood crack, I realized that we might need a weapon of some sort. What would protect us? I wondered.
Kimberly kept up her noise, and I looked about the kitchen, fumbling my way around. It was then that I heard a crash in the front room. The man paused; he had heard it, too. Grabbing the flashlight, I ran past Denise, who was huddled in a corner with her arms clasped around her knees. She was crying uncontrollably. This was the real thing. Okay, I’d better do something, I thought. I ran to the front room. When I arrived, I saw Amanda sprawled out on the carpet.
Girls With a Plan"I didn’t see the stool," she whimpered. "I think my ankle is either broken or sprained real bad. I can’t get up."
I leaned down. "Where is it, Mandy? Where’s the cell phone? Quick, before he discovers it himself."
She pointed to the front door. "When we first arrived and you tried to douse me with water, I hid the phone next to the door . . . no, that’s not right."
"Quick, Mandy! Think! Where did you put it?" There was no more noise at the back. Perhaps the man was coming around the side of the house. If that was the case, I didn’t have much time.
She looked up. "I h-hid it in the mailbox out front, next to the road. I-I’m sorry, Heather, but I just can’t — "
"Never mind! I’ll get it. You’re sure it’s in the mailbox?"
"Positive."
"Okay, then." I knew what I had to do. I clicked off the flashlight and handed it to Amanda. "The moon is out from behind the clouds now. It’s light enough outside that I can make it to the mailbox."
"Okay." She took the flashlight and in the moonlight, I could see her set her jaw and push her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "But how can I help?" Kimberly had quietly come to my side. "I’ll help. I’ll be at the front door."
I nodded. "Okay, listen. The front door’s not so bad, but the screen door squeaks something terrible. Once I hit that door, he’ll have figured out that one of us is outside. I want you to do this for me: Once I get outside, I need you to close the door and lock it."
Kimberly did a double take. "But you — "
"Don’t mind me, I’ll be back at the door before you know it. Just stand by this door, girl, and lock it when I leave. When you see me come running back, unlock it and let me in, and then lock it up right behind me. You got it?"
Amanda leaned over. "Pray?"
I scrunched down and smiled. Denise, I saw, had crawled into the room. "Yeah," I said, "we’ll pray. This time we’ll pray."
We all clasped hands, and I squeezed my eyes shut tight. "Jesus, Savior, please, please protect us. Get us out of this, Jesus. Please? Amen."
Kimberly blinked and patted my hand. "I couldn’t have said it better." I snuck to the front door, and Kimberly put both hands on the lock. "Ready?" I breathed deep. Twenty steps to the mailbox, 20 steps back. I had done it hundreds of times and had counted it more often than I could remember. Twenty up, 20 back. Out and in. Here we go, I thought. I leaned forward.
The Run of My Life"Go." I shot out of the front door and leaped off the front porch before the first groan of the screen door could be heard. I was already at the mailbox and stuffing my hand into it when I heard footsteps coming in my direction. My hand felt the cell phone, and I wrapped my fingers around it. The running footsteps were crunching across the gravel.
I can make it. Yes, I can make it.
His footsteps left the gravel, and I heard them hit the thick grass at the side of the house. I sprinted toward the house. It would be close but I could make it.
But then I hit that wet spot where I had dumped the water off of the roof. My foot skidded, and I went down in a heap, slamming my back on the walkway — hard. He was across the yard, and I could hear him panting.
I couldn’t make it. At least not back to the house.
What should I do? I thought. The girls were screaming inside. I could see his shadowy form coming at me fast.
I rolled and kicked and lashed. I had contact with his hand, and he pulled it away quickly, grunting in frustration. I kept rolling and then lifted myself to my feet in one motion. My only thought was to get away, so I ran down the lane. It was a full mile, but I thought I could buy some time. I heard him puff as he vaulted over a bush toward me. I knew this area, and I didn’t think he did. He’ll catch up with me quickly unless I do something. I know this place better than he does, I thought.
Lord, protect me. Help me think.
I jumped off the lane into the cornfield. As I slashed between the rows of tight, waxy-feeling corn, I realized that I still had the cell phone. Quickly, I dialed 911 as I slid between the rows. I couldn’t hear the first words the operator said, but I started screaming directions into the phone as quickly as I could. I never stopped running.
"S-sanders Lane! Sanders Lane! We’re being attacked!"
"What is the house number, ma’am?"
"Twelve-ten! That’s one-two-one-zero! Sanders Lane," I huffed and turned to the left, "near the intersection of Echo Valley and Owl Hollow. The McCutcheon place! Hurry!" I dodged again. I didn’t know where I was going, but neither did he. The darkness closed in as I ran deeper into the rows. I stopped momentarily to glance at the house, but the only recognizable feature was the moon in the sky. The corn was at its highest.
Then I heard him breathe deeply.
Was he the escaped convict? The convenience store burglar? The Collins’ boy—the one who wants revenge? If only I knew.
Then I realized that it didn’t matter who he was. He was out to hurt us, and I had to do what I could to protect those girls and myself. I ran away from the sound of his breathing, but as I ran through the rows, the noise I made gave away the direction I was running. I heard him crashing along behind me. He was getting closer. I guessed I had a few seconds lead on him. There was only one more thing I could think to do, if I could just get to the lane once more.
The End Is NearI took a guess in the direction I turned and was right. I found the road. I could hear him turn the other way. Good. That was enough time for me. I was tired, but I thought I could fool him. With one bound, I dropped into the ditch in the side of the road and held still. I was hoping that he would run far enough past me that I could run back to the house. I held as still as I could, though my wildly beating heart was crashing against my ribs.
I heard him change direction and run toward me. I didn’t dare move or look up. I had taken the risk and put my entire hope for safety into this one move.
Then he stopped. Where was he?
"There you are."
It was him. He was right over me.
"White shirt catches the moonlight, girl. Get up here."
I didn’t look up into his face, but I shrieked as I saw his shadow lean over to grab me.
He grunted as he leaned. A heavy "oof" grunt. Then he leaned forward . . . and more forward . . . until he fell on his face on the other side of the ditch. He wasn’t unconscious, but he was hit hard enough to be stunned. I saw another shadow, feet set apart and fists ready for battle. It wasn’t a young man, but whoever it was meant business. He gestured to the groaning figure on the ground.
"Now, you’ll stay right there or there’ll be more of where that came from, son." I heard the crackle of tires coming down our gravel lane. The standing man stayed tense. "Don’t even think about getting up."
The face turned toward me, and a hand reached out. "Now Heather, reach out, and I’ll pull you up. Good thing we had the police scanner on at the house. I’ll bet I was out the door and running across the field before the police even got to the main road."
As the two squad cars pulled up, a flashlight beam fell across the face of the man helping me to my feet. It lit up the scarred, disfigured face of our pastor. I leaned toward him and hugged him hard. Tears spilled down my face. His was the most beautiful face I had ever seen.
The Final AnalysisI never was face-to-face with the man who terrorized us. It turned out to be the Collins’ boy, and I eventually saw his picture in the police section of the newspaper. As for Kent, he was fine. The Collins’ boy knocked him down in the yard, but he wasn’t out for long.
The Sisterhood has changed since that night. Kimberly has been talking with the pastor’s wife about the serious steps of salvation in Jesus and what heaven is all about. Last week she made the most sincere and powerful decision she could, as she asked Jesus Christ to be in control of her life. Totally. Completely.
Amanda has a newfound strength in her Christian walk. Although I wouldn’t say she is ready to speak before Congress or lead an army, she has shown a confidence that has taken her testimony to new heights.
Denise has been walking in deeper faith. Her little stunt that backfired taught her not only about Christians in extreme situations, but also how she must answer for her own walk with Christ. She has taken quiet but firm steps in spiritual maturity. I saw her leading three girls in a short Bible study and prayer time in one of the rooms at church before the teen meeting.
Me? I think Denise’s little trick woke me up to the fact that I needed to scrape away style and have some substance in my Christian walk. It wasn’t the appearance of others that was foremost in my life; it was my appearance that preoccupied me. That night, I realized that I had put prayer and reliance upon God in a very distant corner in my life. When the reality of crisis hit me, my spiritual armor was nowhere to be found. I was thankful for a second chance. I also realized that inside counts more.
The Sisterhood continues to create havoc and hilarity wherever we go. However, we will always remember a very important night when we saw ourselves as we never had before.
Wasn't that a great story!!! I hope you enjoyed it. Tell me what you thought PLEASE! My joy is posting and receiving comments so pretty pretty please comment! Thanks!!!
Until Next Time,
Butterfly (just a shorter version of socialbutterfly)
Monday, June 23, 2008
Sunday, June 22, 2008
The Summer Sisterhood (Part two)
The Summer Sisterhood (Part Two)
fiction by Brad Zockoll
My throat grew dry with fear. There was someone out there, moving toward our house.
It wasn’t a dog slinking among the corn, ’cause dogs can’t bend the corn the way humans do. I could see the stalks moving to the side widely, and even though the person slinking up to the yard was really quiet, I could tell exactly where he was. I didn’t think he could see me because I was pinched into a small, shadowed corner, but suddenly the rustling stopped, and I could see the corn at the very edge of the yard part slowly. Very slowly.
And I saw a face peering hard in my direction.
I could hear Kimberly call, “Who’s out there? Huh? Who’s out there?”
The shadow made a move in my direction, coming out of the cornstalks.
I bolted for the door and slammed it, flipping the locks and running to shut the windows. The dark figure ran toward the house and grabbed at a window just as I slammed it down and flipped the upper lock.
As I ran to the front, breathing and praying in sheer panic, I heard the others running in the house, locking windows and doors. As I slammed down the front window and flicked on the front porch light, I saw the man’s form dive into the cornstalks. He was moving fast. I tried to keep up with his movements, but he ran deep, a few rows back. I could tell by the way the cornstalks were bending that he was circling to the back of the house again.
The girls tromped quickly to the front room. “It’s all locked, I’m sure. We got everything on the first floor,” Amanda said as she panted. “But who is it? What’s going on?”
“Stupid question,” snapped Kimberly. “If we knew, do you think we’d be running around like this?”
I whirled around. “Where’s Denise?”
“Upstairs,” said Kimberly, gulping in nervousness. “Checking the windows and stuff. The guy might be able to climb, you know?” I could hear Denise running about, slamming and clicking.
“Okay, who do you think it is?” demanded Amanda. “Why would he choose this place? What would he want with us?”
Denise came bounding down the stairs. “Upstairs is secure. Does your dad have any rifles or guns in a closet or in the cellar?”
“No,” I answered, glancing out the window. “Like I told you last week, the only rifle he has is being repaired in town.”
Denise nodded solemnly. “Then we’re defenseless, huh?”
We heard a harsh cackle outside. We all dashed to the kitchen.
“Get to the phone!” I screamed. “Amanda, flip that outside light switch! It’ll light up the field near the house!” While Amanda ran to the switch, Kim grabbed the phone and started punching 911.
Amanda moved the switch numerous times.
“Once is enough,” hissed Denise.
“It’s out! The yard light is dead!” Amanda shrieked back.
“Can’t be,” I mumbled. “Dad just replaced the bulb on Friday.”
Kimberly was holding the phone to her ear, shaking visibly. “I can’t get a dial tone! There’s no dial tone!“
“He’s cut the phone line!”
I sank to the floor.
“Wait!” yelled Amanda. “I’ve got my cell phone! It’s out on the front porch!”
Kimberly reached out and grabbed Amanda’s shoulder. “No, not by yourself! Are you nuts, go out on the front porch? We don’t know where he is!”
Amanda pushed Kimmy’s hand away. “Let go of me! That man could be the one who robbed the convenience store, or he could be the Collins’ oldest boy wanting revenge on Heather’s daddy, or maybe even that escaped convict that we saw in the newspaper.” She trembled. “Whoever he is, he wants to get at us, and I’m not going to stand here and make it easy for him. I’m going to get help.”
Kimberly spun her around. “Since when did you get all brave?”
Amanda looked at her coolly. “Aren’t we supposed to be relying on God for protection right now? So I’m relying.” She held a gaze on Kimberly. Amanda had never spoken this way before. She burst down the hallway, heading toward the front door. “Stop her!” screamed Kimberly.
Truth is, I would have stopped her myself. Christian bravery or not, I wasn’t going to let her do something stupid. I would have gotten off that linoleum floor and jumped right after her.
Except that as soon as I stood up, all the lights went out. It was pitch black.
Whoever was out there had cut all the power to the house.
Where Do We Turn? We sat huddled on the floor of the dark kitchen, with two candles giving us all the light we could find. The clouds still covered the moon, and we couldn’t see a thing outside. Denise sat with her arms wrapped around her legs, rocking slowly. Amanda kept a wary glance outside, scanning the cornfield for any movement of the stranger, even though she couldn’t see more than 20 feet into the inky black.
It was Kimberly who spoke. Her mascara had run down her face in long, black, splotchy lines, and her mouth drooped low. The candlelight gave her an eerie look. “I can’t handle it. I know, I know, you’re shocked, aren’t you? Tough, smart Kimberly is panicked out of her gourd. Well, I am,” she said with a sniffle. “I can’t see it, Mandy. I can’t see anything beyond what we’re living right now.” She squeezed her eyes hard.
Amanda was visibly shocked. “But you’re a Chr — “
“Oh, yeah, I know I got ‘saved’ and ‘baptized’ and all those little wonderful words,” she said, wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve. “But the truth is, if whoever-he-is out there would kill me, I’d have no idea where I’d go.” She nodded her head toward the window and gave a hollow laugh. “I guess when you stare eternity in the face, you see your true colors, huh?”
Denise shrugged. “So what are we gonna do now?”
I bit my lip.
There was a hair-raising cackle outside the window. Amanda took the candle over to the glass.
“Mandy, that’s not going to do much good if you’re trying to look outside,” I protested.
“I wanna see,” she argued, and pushed the candle up to the window. On the other side of the glass, a bony hand rose and pressed against the glass and rubbed across the pane, making a squeaking noise. Amanda screamed and dropped the candle, letting it clatter and blow out. She darted through the dark house, sobbing and falling. Denise leaped up to get her. Kimberly watched as I lit the candle. As the match flared up, I could see her shaking.
“I don’t want to die,” she said, her throat tight.
Denise pulled Amanda back into the room and sat down quietly with her arm around the shivering girl. “Oh, shut up, Kimmy. You’re not going to die.”
Kimberly looked viciously across the candle flame. “Who are you? Some kind of psychic? You think you know what’s going on in his brain out there?”
Denise shrugged and looked at the floor, thinking. She lifted her gaze to meet my eyes. “What do we do next, Heather? It’s your house, and you’ve always been the leader of the group. What do we do?”
My mind was numb. All I could think of was the word “siege.” The man had our house completely shut off from any help.
“I . . . I don’t know.”
“Well, shouldn’t we pray or something?”
“What for? God knows the fix we’re in.”
“Yeah,” Denise nodded, “but isn’t it at times like this that He wants us to pray?”
I threw up my hands. “How am I supposed to know? You act like I’m supposed to have all the answers.”
“Of course you don’t have all the answers,” retorted Denise, “but doesn’t He have them?”
If it weren’t so dark, the whole Sisterhood could have seen my beet-red face. I mumbled something about wanting to look out the window and crawled across the floor. That’s when we heard the rumbling sound.
“What is that?” Kimberly said as she started to shake.
I swallowed the fear that was starting to freeze my throat shut. “Uh,“ I stammered, “th — that’s the cellar door. He’s yanking on the cellar door.” My legs were weak. “It’s got a lock, but it’s old. If he yanks hard enough or long enough, he could break that lock away from the bolt.”
We heard continuous yanking and pounding.
Amanda crawled to the window just above the cellar door. “He’s got both hands on the lock, pulling as hard as he can.”
“You know, I’ve had about enough,” Kimberly whispered, as she scooted over to the bottom kitchen drawer. “I want to see this clown. I remember your mom putting this in the drawer after we went on that hike down by the creek last month.” She lifted a flashlight from the drawer and held it aloft. “Now,” she said, “let’s get a positive look at the intruder. I wanna see who’s trying to get at us.”
Denise shrugged again. “I don’t see what good it will do.”
Kimberly turned from the window and stared at Denise. “Because, Brainless, if — when — we get out of this mess, I want to be able to make a positive I.D. on the criminal out there. You don’t want him to get away, do you?”
Denise looked away. It puzzled all of us.
Amanda squealed. “Over here! Hurry! Let’s get a look. Maybe the light will scare him off.” Kimberly slid over and pointed the flashlight on the head of the man below. She clicked on the light, and the wide beam of the flashlight illuminated the intruder. Startled by the sudden light, he looked up, and we all got a clear look at him.
It was Kent Albert, one of our high school classmates. The guy we tried to hit with water balloons.
Kimberly was beside herself, half with relief and half with rage. She almost exploded. “KENT! KENT ALBERT! I could hurt you right now.” I saw Kimmy shaking and crying and laughing all at the same time. I could feel the relief sweep over all of us. Even so, Amanda was livid.
“This is supposed to be his idea of FUN? Who does he think he is, anyway?” She glared at Kent’s grinning face. “Just who gave him the right to come on this property and pull these kind of stunts?”
The Truth Comes Out“I did.”
We heard the voice, but it took us a second to realize that it came from Denise. She stood behind us, hands in pockets, quiet as usual. I thought she would be snickering, but she wasn’t. Her face was grave.
“I arranged to have Kent come over and cut the lights and stuff.”
Kimberly would have tackled her if it weren’t for the fact that Denise was about three inches taller than her. She threw down the flashlight. I saw the veins pop out on Kimberly’s neck as she screamed in Denise’s face. “You think you’re so funny, don’t you? You wanted to freak us out, didn’t you? Well, congratulations. You got your wish!”
Amanda shook her head and gave Denise a withering look. I’ll admit I was upset, and I was about to turn away, but there was a look in Denise’s eyes that caught my attention. I realized that she had a definite reason for doing this, because she had no gloating or mocking look on her face. She seemed totally serious.
Denise calmly said, “I wanted to see what you guys were like under . . . well . . . different conditions.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What do you mean by that?”
She continued. “Look, you know that even though we’ve been together for years, it wasn’t until three months ago that I first came to church and became interested in being a Christian. I didn’t want to make a stupid jump into it, blindly, you know.”
She wiped her nose, even though she wasn’t crying. “I knew you three had been Christians for years, so I watched you closely. Even when I made my decision to give my life completely over to Jesus, I wanted to know how a person would grow in the Lord. I wanted to see what you had, deep down. I always wondered if you ‘veteran’ Christians were on autopilot.”
Amanda crossed her arms. I could tell she was still angry, but she was also interested in hearing more. “When you say ‘autopilot,’ what are you getting at?”
Denise shrugged. “You know, the kind of Christian who lives on the social part of church — the parties, lock-ins, music concerts, holiday events — that sort of thing. Look, anybody can act great under those circumstances. It’s sorta like being in a cocoon. So, I got to thinking, What would it be like if the three of you were out of your comfort zone? How would you react?
“So when you told us about the Sisterhood weekend, Heather, I arranged with Kent to put us in a ‘life and death’ situation, ’cause I wanted to see how you all would act.”
“You’re sick,” Kimberly said.
“Maybe so, but I wanted to see more than how you guys act. I wanted to see how you would react. And tonight, I think I saw your true colors.”
I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. “Yeah, great. I’m one of the prayer leaders in the youth group, and when it came down to it, I couldn’t even think straight. I didn’t even try to pray or call us together to ask God for help.”
“You?” snorted Kimberly. “What about me? I’m one of the youth group ‘elected’ leaders, and when it came down to it, I couldn’t even be sure about my salvation.” She sniffled.
Denise nodded. “But I did learn a lot about Amanda. Scared as she was, she tried to do what needed to be done. I saw her really trying to rely on the Lord.” Denise lowered her head. “Sorry if I scared you all too bad, but I’m not sorry I did this. I learned a lot.”
In the faint light of the two candles and fallen flashlight, we stood looking at each other silently. Amanda walked slowly to the window and gazed out. There was a pulling on the back door, firm and consistent.
Finally she said, “Kent’s at it again. Trying to scare us.” Denise walked over to say something to Amanda, but when she looked out the window, I heard a gurgled cry escape her lips.
I hurried over to the window. The moon came from behind the clouds and we could see Kent lying facedown on the lawn.
“Real funny, Denise,” I said. “Show’s over. Tell Kent to get up.”
When she turned to me, I knew something was wrong. Candlelight showed that her face was paler than I’d ever seen. “Kent’s hurt, and I don’t know who’s pulling on the door.”
“Shut up, Denise. It’s not funny.”
“You gotta believe me,” she said, trembling for the first time that night. “Kent swore he would be the only one out here. The other guys are at a basketball game in town. Nobody else was with Kent.”
The rattling continued. In the moonlight we could see through the window of the back door. It was the shadow of a man much older than our friends.
What will happen next to the Summer Sisterhood.
Read the conclusion tomorrow!!!
fiction by Brad Zockoll
My throat grew dry with fear. There was someone out there, moving toward our house.
It wasn’t a dog slinking among the corn, ’cause dogs can’t bend the corn the way humans do. I could see the stalks moving to the side widely, and even though the person slinking up to the yard was really quiet, I could tell exactly where he was. I didn’t think he could see me because I was pinched into a small, shadowed corner, but suddenly the rustling stopped, and I could see the corn at the very edge of the yard part slowly. Very slowly.
And I saw a face peering hard in my direction.
I could hear Kimberly call, “Who’s out there? Huh? Who’s out there?”
The shadow made a move in my direction, coming out of the cornstalks.
I bolted for the door and slammed it, flipping the locks and running to shut the windows. The dark figure ran toward the house and grabbed at a window just as I slammed it down and flipped the upper lock.
As I ran to the front, breathing and praying in sheer panic, I heard the others running in the house, locking windows and doors. As I slammed down the front window and flicked on the front porch light, I saw the man’s form dive into the cornstalks. He was moving fast. I tried to keep up with his movements, but he ran deep, a few rows back. I could tell by the way the cornstalks were bending that he was circling to the back of the house again.
The girls tromped quickly to the front room. “It’s all locked, I’m sure. We got everything on the first floor,” Amanda said as she panted. “But who is it? What’s going on?”
“Stupid question,” snapped Kimberly. “If we knew, do you think we’d be running around like this?”
I whirled around. “Where’s Denise?”
“Upstairs,” said Kimberly, gulping in nervousness. “Checking the windows and stuff. The guy might be able to climb, you know?” I could hear Denise running about, slamming and clicking.
“Okay, who do you think it is?” demanded Amanda. “Why would he choose this place? What would he want with us?”
Denise came bounding down the stairs. “Upstairs is secure. Does your dad have any rifles or guns in a closet or in the cellar?”
“No,” I answered, glancing out the window. “Like I told you last week, the only rifle he has is being repaired in town.”
Denise nodded solemnly. “Then we’re defenseless, huh?”
We heard a harsh cackle outside. We all dashed to the kitchen.
“Get to the phone!” I screamed. “Amanda, flip that outside light switch! It’ll light up the field near the house!” While Amanda ran to the switch, Kim grabbed the phone and started punching 911.
Amanda moved the switch numerous times.
“Once is enough,” hissed Denise.
“It’s out! The yard light is dead!” Amanda shrieked back.
“Can’t be,” I mumbled. “Dad just replaced the bulb on Friday.”
Kimberly was holding the phone to her ear, shaking visibly. “I can’t get a dial tone! There’s no dial tone!“
“He’s cut the phone line!”
I sank to the floor.
“Wait!” yelled Amanda. “I’ve got my cell phone! It’s out on the front porch!”
Kimberly reached out and grabbed Amanda’s shoulder. “No, not by yourself! Are you nuts, go out on the front porch? We don’t know where he is!”
Amanda pushed Kimmy’s hand away. “Let go of me! That man could be the one who robbed the convenience store, or he could be the Collins’ oldest boy wanting revenge on Heather’s daddy, or maybe even that escaped convict that we saw in the newspaper.” She trembled. “Whoever he is, he wants to get at us, and I’m not going to stand here and make it easy for him. I’m going to get help.”
Kimberly spun her around. “Since when did you get all brave?”
Amanda looked at her coolly. “Aren’t we supposed to be relying on God for protection right now? So I’m relying.” She held a gaze on Kimberly. Amanda had never spoken this way before. She burst down the hallway, heading toward the front door. “Stop her!” screamed Kimberly.
Truth is, I would have stopped her myself. Christian bravery or not, I wasn’t going to let her do something stupid. I would have gotten off that linoleum floor and jumped right after her.
Except that as soon as I stood up, all the lights went out. It was pitch black.
Whoever was out there had cut all the power to the house.
Where Do We Turn? We sat huddled on the floor of the dark kitchen, with two candles giving us all the light we could find. The clouds still covered the moon, and we couldn’t see a thing outside. Denise sat with her arms wrapped around her legs, rocking slowly. Amanda kept a wary glance outside, scanning the cornfield for any movement of the stranger, even though she couldn’t see more than 20 feet into the inky black.
It was Kimberly who spoke. Her mascara had run down her face in long, black, splotchy lines, and her mouth drooped low. The candlelight gave her an eerie look. “I can’t handle it. I know, I know, you’re shocked, aren’t you? Tough, smart Kimberly is panicked out of her gourd. Well, I am,” she said with a sniffle. “I can’t see it, Mandy. I can’t see anything beyond what we’re living right now.” She squeezed her eyes hard.
Amanda was visibly shocked. “But you’re a Chr — “
“Oh, yeah, I know I got ‘saved’ and ‘baptized’ and all those little wonderful words,” she said, wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve. “But the truth is, if whoever-he-is out there would kill me, I’d have no idea where I’d go.” She nodded her head toward the window and gave a hollow laugh. “I guess when you stare eternity in the face, you see your true colors, huh?”
Denise shrugged. “So what are we gonna do now?”
I bit my lip.
There was a hair-raising cackle outside the window. Amanda took the candle over to the glass.
“Mandy, that’s not going to do much good if you’re trying to look outside,” I protested.
“I wanna see,” she argued, and pushed the candle up to the window. On the other side of the glass, a bony hand rose and pressed against the glass and rubbed across the pane, making a squeaking noise. Amanda screamed and dropped the candle, letting it clatter and blow out. She darted through the dark house, sobbing and falling. Denise leaped up to get her. Kimberly watched as I lit the candle. As the match flared up, I could see her shaking.
“I don’t want to die,” she said, her throat tight.
Denise pulled Amanda back into the room and sat down quietly with her arm around the shivering girl. “Oh, shut up, Kimmy. You’re not going to die.”
Kimberly looked viciously across the candle flame. “Who are you? Some kind of psychic? You think you know what’s going on in his brain out there?”
Denise shrugged and looked at the floor, thinking. She lifted her gaze to meet my eyes. “What do we do next, Heather? It’s your house, and you’ve always been the leader of the group. What do we do?”
My mind was numb. All I could think of was the word “siege.” The man had our house completely shut off from any help.
“I . . . I don’t know.”
“Well, shouldn’t we pray or something?”
“What for? God knows the fix we’re in.”
“Yeah,” Denise nodded, “but isn’t it at times like this that He wants us to pray?”
I threw up my hands. “How am I supposed to know? You act like I’m supposed to have all the answers.”
“Of course you don’t have all the answers,” retorted Denise, “but doesn’t He have them?”
If it weren’t so dark, the whole Sisterhood could have seen my beet-red face. I mumbled something about wanting to look out the window and crawled across the floor. That’s when we heard the rumbling sound.
“What is that?” Kimberly said as she started to shake.
I swallowed the fear that was starting to freeze my throat shut. “Uh,“ I stammered, “th — that’s the cellar door. He’s yanking on the cellar door.” My legs were weak. “It’s got a lock, but it’s old. If he yanks hard enough or long enough, he could break that lock away from the bolt.”
We heard continuous yanking and pounding.
Amanda crawled to the window just above the cellar door. “He’s got both hands on the lock, pulling as hard as he can.”
“You know, I’ve had about enough,” Kimberly whispered, as she scooted over to the bottom kitchen drawer. “I want to see this clown. I remember your mom putting this in the drawer after we went on that hike down by the creek last month.” She lifted a flashlight from the drawer and held it aloft. “Now,” she said, “let’s get a positive look at the intruder. I wanna see who’s trying to get at us.”
Denise shrugged again. “I don’t see what good it will do.”
Kimberly turned from the window and stared at Denise. “Because, Brainless, if — when — we get out of this mess, I want to be able to make a positive I.D. on the criminal out there. You don’t want him to get away, do you?”
Denise looked away. It puzzled all of us.
Amanda squealed. “Over here! Hurry! Let’s get a look. Maybe the light will scare him off.” Kimberly slid over and pointed the flashlight on the head of the man below. She clicked on the light, and the wide beam of the flashlight illuminated the intruder. Startled by the sudden light, he looked up, and we all got a clear look at him.
It was Kent Albert, one of our high school classmates. The guy we tried to hit with water balloons.
Kimberly was beside herself, half with relief and half with rage. She almost exploded. “KENT! KENT ALBERT! I could hurt you right now.” I saw Kimmy shaking and crying and laughing all at the same time. I could feel the relief sweep over all of us. Even so, Amanda was livid.
“This is supposed to be his idea of FUN? Who does he think he is, anyway?” She glared at Kent’s grinning face. “Just who gave him the right to come on this property and pull these kind of stunts?”
The Truth Comes Out“I did.”
We heard the voice, but it took us a second to realize that it came from Denise. She stood behind us, hands in pockets, quiet as usual. I thought she would be snickering, but she wasn’t. Her face was grave.
“I arranged to have Kent come over and cut the lights and stuff.”
Kimberly would have tackled her if it weren’t for the fact that Denise was about three inches taller than her. She threw down the flashlight. I saw the veins pop out on Kimberly’s neck as she screamed in Denise’s face. “You think you’re so funny, don’t you? You wanted to freak us out, didn’t you? Well, congratulations. You got your wish!”
Amanda shook her head and gave Denise a withering look. I’ll admit I was upset, and I was about to turn away, but there was a look in Denise’s eyes that caught my attention. I realized that she had a definite reason for doing this, because she had no gloating or mocking look on her face. She seemed totally serious.
Denise calmly said, “I wanted to see what you guys were like under . . . well . . . different conditions.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What do you mean by that?”
She continued. “Look, you know that even though we’ve been together for years, it wasn’t until three months ago that I first came to church and became interested in being a Christian. I didn’t want to make a stupid jump into it, blindly, you know.”
She wiped her nose, even though she wasn’t crying. “I knew you three had been Christians for years, so I watched you closely. Even when I made my decision to give my life completely over to Jesus, I wanted to know how a person would grow in the Lord. I wanted to see what you had, deep down. I always wondered if you ‘veteran’ Christians were on autopilot.”
Amanda crossed her arms. I could tell she was still angry, but she was also interested in hearing more. “When you say ‘autopilot,’ what are you getting at?”
Denise shrugged. “You know, the kind of Christian who lives on the social part of church — the parties, lock-ins, music concerts, holiday events — that sort of thing. Look, anybody can act great under those circumstances. It’s sorta like being in a cocoon. So, I got to thinking, What would it be like if the three of you were out of your comfort zone? How would you react?
“So when you told us about the Sisterhood weekend, Heather, I arranged with Kent to put us in a ‘life and death’ situation, ’cause I wanted to see how you all would act.”
“You’re sick,” Kimberly said.
“Maybe so, but I wanted to see more than how you guys act. I wanted to see how you would react. And tonight, I think I saw your true colors.”
I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. “Yeah, great. I’m one of the prayer leaders in the youth group, and when it came down to it, I couldn’t even think straight. I didn’t even try to pray or call us together to ask God for help.”
“You?” snorted Kimberly. “What about me? I’m one of the youth group ‘elected’ leaders, and when it came down to it, I couldn’t even be sure about my salvation.” She sniffled.
Denise nodded. “But I did learn a lot about Amanda. Scared as she was, she tried to do what needed to be done. I saw her really trying to rely on the Lord.” Denise lowered her head. “Sorry if I scared you all too bad, but I’m not sorry I did this. I learned a lot.”
In the faint light of the two candles and fallen flashlight, we stood looking at each other silently. Amanda walked slowly to the window and gazed out. There was a pulling on the back door, firm and consistent.
Finally she said, “Kent’s at it again. Trying to scare us.” Denise walked over to say something to Amanda, but when she looked out the window, I heard a gurgled cry escape her lips.
I hurried over to the window. The moon came from behind the clouds and we could see Kent lying facedown on the lawn.
“Real funny, Denise,” I said. “Show’s over. Tell Kent to get up.”
When she turned to me, I knew something was wrong. Candlelight showed that her face was paler than I’d ever seen. “Kent’s hurt, and I don’t know who’s pulling on the door.”
“Shut up, Denise. It’s not funny.”
“You gotta believe me,” she said, trembling for the first time that night. “Kent swore he would be the only one out here. The other guys are at a basketball game in town. Nobody else was with Kent.”
The rattling continued. In the moonlight we could see through the window of the back door. It was the shadow of a man much older than our friends.
What will happen next to the Summer Sisterhood.
Read the conclusion tomorrow!!!
And the baby said, "Agoooaba"!
So this morning we went to church like every other Sunday morning and we were saying the closing prayer when all of the sudden, my baby brother who is in my dad's arms says, "Agoooaba"! Fortunatly not many heads turned but then just seconds later he did it again! LOL Then I noticed a few faces looking in our direction. It was very hard for me to not break out in laughter but in reverence for God I kept my composure until we were in the parking lot.... then I laughed and so did my brother and sister! It was one of those humbling moments that I thought would be funny to share with you all! Don't forget to read the three part series I am posting and tell me what you think. The second part is posted above this post. Enjoy and God bless you!
Butterfly {}
Butterfly {}
Saturday, June 21, 2008
The Summer Sisterhood (part one)
This is part one to a three part story. I got it off of a Christian website and I hope you enjoy the story. I will post part one today, part two tomorrow, and part three on Monday. Enjoy!!!
The Summer Sisterhood (Part One)
fiction by Brad Zockoll
Cut off the porch light, Heather.”
“What?”
“Cut off the light, Girl. Let’s see how dark it gets.”
I reached over and clicked the switch.
“Eewww. Too dark for me,“ said Amanda. “Switch it back on, would you?”
I waited, just to see what she would say.
“Hey,” Amanda said nervously, “cut it back on, Heather. Okay? Cut it back on. Now.”
I switched it back on.
“Keep it on, and don’t mess with it, okay? None of you.”
“Aw, Amanda, lighten up. It’s not like anyone’s out there. What were we talking about, anyway?”
“I dunno, Denise. Something about when you finally broke down and started coming to the teen meetings.“
“No, we already talked about that, Mudflap.”
“Don’t call me a mudflap, Dimbulb. You were the one who started the talk, anyway. What was it about?”
“I can’t remember. I think we were talking about the overnight lock-in from last year. It was a boring subject anyway. I’m tired, and I don’t wanna talk about it anymore. Look at that field, Girl. I can’t see but 10 or 12 rows of corn. Dare me to go run through it?”
It was Kimberly who sat up and looked around for the challenge. The rest of us were too lazy to rise.
She was right; off of the porch, it was inky-black. If it wasn’t for the yellow porch light’s glow, I don’t think you could have seen the barn. It was that dark. The four of us girls sat there, picking at the last parts of our dinner and taking in the realization that the whole farmhouse was ours for the entire weekend.
Yeah. Mom and Dad were gone. The four of us — the Sisterhood, as we had called ourselves since the fifth grade — were totally in charge of the homestead.
I mean totally in charge.
A quartet of high school seniors and 72 hours to ourselves. Almost too good to be true, you know? I sighed happily and leaned my head back on the porch railing. Things were all right with this kind of world.
Keeping Track of My WrongsSomething rustled in the corn. Amanda looked up quickly, but it didn’t bother me, ’cause she’s always jumpy. I gazed around and spit a loose piece of corn from between my teeth. Hmmm. What could it be out there? Maybe it was a dog. We didn’t have a dog that was loose, but maybe a neighbor’s dog was wandering between the rows. I squinted as we sat on the back porch, but I couldn’t see anything.
Amanda shivered. “Don’t even think about running through it.”
Kimmy’s eyes darted around. “Dare me. I’ll do it. Who wants me to?”
Amanda was shaking her head in that nervous way she always shows. Denise, though, was totally unmoved. When I glanced over at her, she was leaning her back on the porch pillar and gently bumping her head against the wood while humming to herself. That girl never gets riled up over anything. “So you run through it. So what?”
Kimberly wanted to start something, though. She looked around, searching for trouble. A lightbulb turned on in her head. She found what she was looking for — me.
“Say, Heather, Sweetie, remember what you said? ‘Outside counts more,’ were your words, I believe. Isn’t that it?” she asked, flashing her eyes quickly and looking for a response.
Kimberly was an odd sort: a skinny, perpetually energized girl who wore mascara and five earrings at all times. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen her sit still. Come to think of it, I don’t ever remember her sleeping, even at a lock-in. You couldn’t predict the way she would talk, the way she would act or what she would wear. If you wanted to liven up a party, invite Kimberly.
Kimberly looked at me hard, raised her eyebrows and gave me a wicked grin while she sipped her iced coffee through a straw. She had a daring look in her eye and tossed her long brunette hair back like she wanted to start something bad. I hated when she did that hair-tossing thing. It always irritated me. “ ‘Outside counts more’ is what you said, Girl, remember?” She smiled wider.
Amanda rolled her eyes and looked out across the cornfield. I could tell she wanted to change the subject, but she couldn’t figure out how to start. She just sat there, letting her sandal dangle on her toe while she tried to appear as if she was concentrating on the clouds covering the moon.
Denise was still leaning against the pillar in a whole other world with her plate of corncobs by her side. She was picking her teeth with a piece of grass, humming softly. Her fingers were greasy from the butter. She picked up a sheet of newspaper Dad left on the swing. It was today’s edition with a headline about an escaped convict in the area. Armed, dangerous, blah, blah, blah. Denise wiped her greasy fingers on the front page and crumpled it up.
“So talk,” urged Kimberly.
“What?” I asked, even though I knew full well what she meant. “Duh,” she answered, “let’s all guess what Heather said the other day. Don’t you want to share it with the whole class? Hmmm?”
Heather the HypocriteUp until that part of the evening, things were going okay. We were all having a pretty fun time watching the house while my parents shopped at the Warehouse Club and stayed in a hotel over an hour away, past Hiker’s Lake.
My folks hadn’t had a vacation in months, and they said it would be okay for me to invite some friends for a sleepover while they were gone. I asked Denise, Amanda and Kimberly to come. The Sisterhood was going to squeeze in a month’s worth of trouble into one weekend. We had to move fast.
From the start, we went off the deep end. I climbed out onto the second-story porch roof and came close to soaking Amanda with a bucket of water when she was coming up the walk. She ran inside and tackled me before I could escape out the back door. That’s when she poured a glass of milk over my head.
Kimberly had already fired up Dad’s riding mower and was chasing Denise around the yard. Denise slowed Kimmy down by splattering her with a moldy apple from the orchard. The Sisterhood is like that. We go a little nutty, I guess.
We had a food fight at dinner and followed that up by commenting through every line of what was supposed to be a romantic video. We giggled and snorted all through last year’s yearbook and then took advantage of the evening hours by trying to water balloon Kent Albert’s pickup when he drove by our house.
Kimberly, of course, was the wildest of the bunch, but we fell over laughing when Denise hid in the bushes and started screaming at cars going down the country road. We were tired now after loading up on almost a bushel of roasted corn on the cob, and that’s when Kimberly started getting mean.
She heard me talking last week during our youth group discussion about being kind to others, no matter how they look or act. Now she was throwing one of my old statements back in my face: “Outside counts more.”
Some of the cornstalks moved, but there was no wind. Denise raised an eyebrow and then shrugged.
Amanda played with her long, blond hair and pointed her finger in the direction of the barn. “I heard there was a burglar that escaped through that cornfield over there. He robbed the convenience store and ran through three miles of fields in the dark. Right there is where they say he may have gone.
“Of course, I also heard that the Collins’ oldest boy still wants revenge, Heather, ’cause your daddy reported his truck weaving the night he was drunk. He had to stay overnight in the jail.”
Kimberly didn’t even glance off the porch. “Don’t change the subject, Mandy. Heather’s gotta fess up, now. She came across pretty high and mighty at the youth group meeting, but I know her heart.”
“Do not,” I said, knowing my face was getting red.
“You know I do,” retorted Kimberly, leaning back on the porch swing. “You made that statement only two weeks ago when you were talking about the Baylor boys. When I said they had a bad attitude, you laughed and said, ‘Outside counts more.’ You know you did, so don’t lie. Tell us the truth.”
I sat still and clenched my jaw. I hate it when she starts this. I flipped a corncob off the porch and tried to sound casual. “I said that more ’n two months ago, and it was before the week of camp. I got things right at the camp. You know I did, Loudmouth.”
Kimberly chuckled. “You did not, Big Liar. We went to the camp over a month ago, and you said this two weeks ago.”
Denise drawled, “Let it go, Kimmy. Don’t ruin the night. Why do you get worked up about stuff like this?” She wiggled her toes and sighed loudly, and her loud sigh was always a firm hint telling Kimberly that the subject needed to be changed.
Denise was the tallest of us all, and no doubt the strongest. Kimberly shrugged, took another swig and swatted a mosquito in the direction of the bug zapper. “I dunno. I just don’t want Heather to get too uppity on us.” She giggled but nobody else did.
“Well, then, let it go. It’s not like you have any room to talk, Miss Role Model,” Denise said, yawning. “Got in trouble last week in church, right? Back row, talking. I knew you would. I told you you would.”
Kim smirked and nodded in my direction. “Not me we’re talking about. It’s Heather the Hypocrite.”
Reckless Words I was pretty sure I could get my temper back under control if I could take my plate and get into the kitchen. I hate it when she starts taunting me, making me look like an idiot. I went out to the side porch and turned off the light, trying to calm down. The clouds covered the moon, and I gazed at the kitchen window light of our nearest neighbor, over a mile away.
I stood on the porch for a moment to get myself back together. Kimberly was right; that’s what made me so mad. I couldn’t get back at her; I had nobody to blame but myself. I had blurted out that stupid, stupid statement, boldly saying that in my opinion, a guy’s looks won out. Over anything. What a moronic thing to say. And now it was coming back to haunt me, especially because of our new pastor.
Yeah, the new pastor and his wife. They moved up from Florida. He had a pretty wife who really loved teens and played a piano like nobody’s business. And the pastor himself? Like a grandfather, he was. He loved all of us immediately. He could deliver a sermon, and you’d eat it up like it was the only meal you’d ever get in a month. He was great, all right.
Except that scar.
That hideous scar that was caused in an auto accident about three years ago, they say. When his face was thrown through a windshield.
He survived it and was able to walk after a month. The only reminder of that day was a scar that traveled brutally down the side of his cheekbone and ended at his lip, that corner of his lip. That corner was twisted and mangled.
He was a beautiful man on the inside, but that scar . . . and that lip. It took some getting used to. And then I had to go and say that the only thing that counted was a person’s looks. And now Kimmy’s called me out on it.
I stood in the muggy darkness of the evening and bit my lip. I was not only stung that Kimberly would throw it at me so viciously, I choked in silent rage that I could have been so stupid as to blurt out a statement that was making my testimony look like a joke. I heaved a sigh and sat down in the shadow of the porch. I didn’t move for a few minutes. A shiver ran through the cornfield.
Wait.
No wind. That’s rustling.
It came from the cornfield.
I squinted my eyes. I forced my ears to pay attention. Yeah, there it was again. I had no doubt now.
I could hear the uneven rustle and squeak. I peered into the darkness. A sliver of moonbeam slipped through the clouds and stabbed the ground for a split second before retreating into blackness once again.
And then I saw it.
Someone was in that cornfield, moving silently toward the house.
Come back tomorrow to see what happens in "The Summer Sisterhood!"
Until tomorrow,
Socialbutterfly
The Summer Sisterhood (Part One)
fiction by Brad Zockoll
Cut off the porch light, Heather.”
“What?”
“Cut off the light, Girl. Let’s see how dark it gets.”
I reached over and clicked the switch.
“Eewww. Too dark for me,“ said Amanda. “Switch it back on, would you?”
I waited, just to see what she would say.
“Hey,” Amanda said nervously, “cut it back on, Heather. Okay? Cut it back on. Now.”
I switched it back on.
“Keep it on, and don’t mess with it, okay? None of you.”
“Aw, Amanda, lighten up. It’s not like anyone’s out there. What were we talking about, anyway?”
“I dunno, Denise. Something about when you finally broke down and started coming to the teen meetings.“
“No, we already talked about that, Mudflap.”
“Don’t call me a mudflap, Dimbulb. You were the one who started the talk, anyway. What was it about?”
“I can’t remember. I think we were talking about the overnight lock-in from last year. It was a boring subject anyway. I’m tired, and I don’t wanna talk about it anymore. Look at that field, Girl. I can’t see but 10 or 12 rows of corn. Dare me to go run through it?”
It was Kimberly who sat up and looked around for the challenge. The rest of us were too lazy to rise.
She was right; off of the porch, it was inky-black. If it wasn’t for the yellow porch light’s glow, I don’t think you could have seen the barn. It was that dark. The four of us girls sat there, picking at the last parts of our dinner and taking in the realization that the whole farmhouse was ours for the entire weekend.
Yeah. Mom and Dad were gone. The four of us — the Sisterhood, as we had called ourselves since the fifth grade — were totally in charge of the homestead.
I mean totally in charge.
A quartet of high school seniors and 72 hours to ourselves. Almost too good to be true, you know? I sighed happily and leaned my head back on the porch railing. Things were all right with this kind of world.
Keeping Track of My WrongsSomething rustled in the corn. Amanda looked up quickly, but it didn’t bother me, ’cause she’s always jumpy. I gazed around and spit a loose piece of corn from between my teeth. Hmmm. What could it be out there? Maybe it was a dog. We didn’t have a dog that was loose, but maybe a neighbor’s dog was wandering between the rows. I squinted as we sat on the back porch, but I couldn’t see anything.
Amanda shivered. “Don’t even think about running through it.”
Kimmy’s eyes darted around. “Dare me. I’ll do it. Who wants me to?”
Amanda was shaking her head in that nervous way she always shows. Denise, though, was totally unmoved. When I glanced over at her, she was leaning her back on the porch pillar and gently bumping her head against the wood while humming to herself. That girl never gets riled up over anything. “So you run through it. So what?”
Kimberly wanted to start something, though. She looked around, searching for trouble. A lightbulb turned on in her head. She found what she was looking for — me.
“Say, Heather, Sweetie, remember what you said? ‘Outside counts more,’ were your words, I believe. Isn’t that it?” she asked, flashing her eyes quickly and looking for a response.
Kimberly was an odd sort: a skinny, perpetually energized girl who wore mascara and five earrings at all times. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen her sit still. Come to think of it, I don’t ever remember her sleeping, even at a lock-in. You couldn’t predict the way she would talk, the way she would act or what she would wear. If you wanted to liven up a party, invite Kimberly.
Kimberly looked at me hard, raised her eyebrows and gave me a wicked grin while she sipped her iced coffee through a straw. She had a daring look in her eye and tossed her long brunette hair back like she wanted to start something bad. I hated when she did that hair-tossing thing. It always irritated me. “ ‘Outside counts more’ is what you said, Girl, remember?” She smiled wider.
Amanda rolled her eyes and looked out across the cornfield. I could tell she wanted to change the subject, but she couldn’t figure out how to start. She just sat there, letting her sandal dangle on her toe while she tried to appear as if she was concentrating on the clouds covering the moon.
Denise was still leaning against the pillar in a whole other world with her plate of corncobs by her side. She was picking her teeth with a piece of grass, humming softly. Her fingers were greasy from the butter. She picked up a sheet of newspaper Dad left on the swing. It was today’s edition with a headline about an escaped convict in the area. Armed, dangerous, blah, blah, blah. Denise wiped her greasy fingers on the front page and crumpled it up.
“So talk,” urged Kimberly.
“What?” I asked, even though I knew full well what she meant. “Duh,” she answered, “let’s all guess what Heather said the other day. Don’t you want to share it with the whole class? Hmmm?”
Heather the HypocriteUp until that part of the evening, things were going okay. We were all having a pretty fun time watching the house while my parents shopped at the Warehouse Club and stayed in a hotel over an hour away, past Hiker’s Lake.
My folks hadn’t had a vacation in months, and they said it would be okay for me to invite some friends for a sleepover while they were gone. I asked Denise, Amanda and Kimberly to come. The Sisterhood was going to squeeze in a month’s worth of trouble into one weekend. We had to move fast.
From the start, we went off the deep end. I climbed out onto the second-story porch roof and came close to soaking Amanda with a bucket of water when she was coming up the walk. She ran inside and tackled me before I could escape out the back door. That’s when she poured a glass of milk over my head.
Kimberly had already fired up Dad’s riding mower and was chasing Denise around the yard. Denise slowed Kimmy down by splattering her with a moldy apple from the orchard. The Sisterhood is like that. We go a little nutty, I guess.
We had a food fight at dinner and followed that up by commenting through every line of what was supposed to be a romantic video. We giggled and snorted all through last year’s yearbook and then took advantage of the evening hours by trying to water balloon Kent Albert’s pickup when he drove by our house.
Kimberly, of course, was the wildest of the bunch, but we fell over laughing when Denise hid in the bushes and started screaming at cars going down the country road. We were tired now after loading up on almost a bushel of roasted corn on the cob, and that’s when Kimberly started getting mean.
She heard me talking last week during our youth group discussion about being kind to others, no matter how they look or act. Now she was throwing one of my old statements back in my face: “Outside counts more.”
Some of the cornstalks moved, but there was no wind. Denise raised an eyebrow and then shrugged.
Amanda played with her long, blond hair and pointed her finger in the direction of the barn. “I heard there was a burglar that escaped through that cornfield over there. He robbed the convenience store and ran through three miles of fields in the dark. Right there is where they say he may have gone.
“Of course, I also heard that the Collins’ oldest boy still wants revenge, Heather, ’cause your daddy reported his truck weaving the night he was drunk. He had to stay overnight in the jail.”
Kimberly didn’t even glance off the porch. “Don’t change the subject, Mandy. Heather’s gotta fess up, now. She came across pretty high and mighty at the youth group meeting, but I know her heart.”
“Do not,” I said, knowing my face was getting red.
“You know I do,” retorted Kimberly, leaning back on the porch swing. “You made that statement only two weeks ago when you were talking about the Baylor boys. When I said they had a bad attitude, you laughed and said, ‘Outside counts more.’ You know you did, so don’t lie. Tell us the truth.”
I sat still and clenched my jaw. I hate it when she starts this. I flipped a corncob off the porch and tried to sound casual. “I said that more ’n two months ago, and it was before the week of camp. I got things right at the camp. You know I did, Loudmouth.”
Kimberly chuckled. “You did not, Big Liar. We went to the camp over a month ago, and you said this two weeks ago.”
Denise drawled, “Let it go, Kimmy. Don’t ruin the night. Why do you get worked up about stuff like this?” She wiggled her toes and sighed loudly, and her loud sigh was always a firm hint telling Kimberly that the subject needed to be changed.
Denise was the tallest of us all, and no doubt the strongest. Kimberly shrugged, took another swig and swatted a mosquito in the direction of the bug zapper. “I dunno. I just don’t want Heather to get too uppity on us.” She giggled but nobody else did.
“Well, then, let it go. It’s not like you have any room to talk, Miss Role Model,” Denise said, yawning. “Got in trouble last week in church, right? Back row, talking. I knew you would. I told you you would.”
Kim smirked and nodded in my direction. “Not me we’re talking about. It’s Heather the Hypocrite.”
Reckless Words I was pretty sure I could get my temper back under control if I could take my plate and get into the kitchen. I hate it when she starts taunting me, making me look like an idiot. I went out to the side porch and turned off the light, trying to calm down. The clouds covered the moon, and I gazed at the kitchen window light of our nearest neighbor, over a mile away.
I stood on the porch for a moment to get myself back together. Kimberly was right; that’s what made me so mad. I couldn’t get back at her; I had nobody to blame but myself. I had blurted out that stupid, stupid statement, boldly saying that in my opinion, a guy’s looks won out. Over anything. What a moronic thing to say. And now it was coming back to haunt me, especially because of our new pastor.
Yeah, the new pastor and his wife. They moved up from Florida. He had a pretty wife who really loved teens and played a piano like nobody’s business. And the pastor himself? Like a grandfather, he was. He loved all of us immediately. He could deliver a sermon, and you’d eat it up like it was the only meal you’d ever get in a month. He was great, all right.
Except that scar.
That hideous scar that was caused in an auto accident about three years ago, they say. When his face was thrown through a windshield.
He survived it and was able to walk after a month. The only reminder of that day was a scar that traveled brutally down the side of his cheekbone and ended at his lip, that corner of his lip. That corner was twisted and mangled.
He was a beautiful man on the inside, but that scar . . . and that lip. It took some getting used to. And then I had to go and say that the only thing that counted was a person’s looks. And now Kimmy’s called me out on it.
I stood in the muggy darkness of the evening and bit my lip. I was not only stung that Kimberly would throw it at me so viciously, I choked in silent rage that I could have been so stupid as to blurt out a statement that was making my testimony look like a joke. I heaved a sigh and sat down in the shadow of the porch. I didn’t move for a few minutes. A shiver ran through the cornfield.
Wait.
No wind. That’s rustling.
It came from the cornfield.
I squinted my eyes. I forced my ears to pay attention. Yeah, there it was again. I had no doubt now.
I could hear the uneven rustle and squeak. I peered into the darkness. A sliver of moonbeam slipped through the clouds and stabbed the ground for a split second before retreating into blackness once again.
And then I saw it.
Someone was in that cornfield, moving silently toward the house.
Come back tomorrow to see what happens in "The Summer Sisterhood!"
Until tomorrow,
Socialbutterfly
BUSY!!!!
OK so I will admit it..... I have been neglecting my blog and I am sorry to all you blog readers! This week we had VBS every morning from 9 - noon and then on Monday after VBS, we had to go to a funeral for my Great Great Aunt Winifred, Tuesday after VBS I had to babysitt all afternoon until dinner, Wednesday... I can't remember why but I was incredibly busy, Thursday we didn't go to VBS because we went on a Field trip to the Zoo and were gone from 11am to 7pm, Friday, I babysat from 9 - noon (i missed the last two days of VBS) and when I came home I had hours and hours of schoolwork to catch up on late until 7pm! I ate a very late dinner while my parents were gone on their date night but fortunatly my baby brother was sleeping most of the evening. And today I woke up quarter to 9am and my parents went out for breakfast leaving me with frozen waffles and the baby to care for (I really didn't mind because I put my baby brother to bed about 45 minutes after they left for his morning nap and was able to check my emails which I had a lot of) and so it is now 1:30 in the afternoon, I just finished taking a nice walk with my mom and baby brother and now my sister wants me to go outside and help her set up our pool! So I have been VERY busy so please forgive me for being away sooo long!
Another thing is I haven't received any comments on my blog for a looooooong time (almost a month!) so if I don't start to hear from you girls, then I may stop working on this blog because it would be a waste of my time! : (
So pleeeeeeeeease leave a comment TODAY! Thanks!
Until Next Time,
Socialbutterfly
P.S. Prayer requests are welcome on my blog.
Another thing is I haven't received any comments on my blog for a looooooong time (almost a month!) so if I don't start to hear from you girls, then I may stop working on this blog because it would be a waste of my time! : (
So pleeeeeeeeease leave a comment TODAY! Thanks!
Until Next Time,
Socialbutterfly
P.S. Prayer requests are welcome on my blog.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Jeans Book CoverDecorate a 3-ring binder or a composition notebook and use the pockets to hold your pens and pencils.
You need:
Old Jeans
Trim and Appliques
Gemstones
Gem Glue
Low Temp Glue Gun
Instructions:
Cut the legs off a pair of jeans. Cut open the front, cutting off the entire zipper. Turn jeans upside down. Place the binder on top and line up the top edge of your jeans with the top edge of the binder and the back seam with the center of the spine.
Trim both sides and the bottom of the jeans 1" bigger than the binder. Hot glue the top edge securely. Tack the other three sides with dabs of hot glue.
Turn the project over. Tuck in along the back seam to fit the jeans to the spine. glue in place.
Wrap sides and bottom of the jeans around the edges of the book. Glue in place.
Glue trim over raw edge. Decorate the outside with gems and appliques. Glue trim under belt loops and around top of book.
You need:
Old Jeans
Trim and Appliques
Gemstones
Gem Glue
Low Temp Glue Gun
Instructions:
Cut the legs off a pair of jeans. Cut open the front, cutting off the entire zipper. Turn jeans upside down. Place the binder on top and line up the top edge of your jeans with the top edge of the binder and the back seam with the center of the spine.
Trim both sides and the bottom of the jeans 1" bigger than the binder. Hot glue the top edge securely. Tack the other three sides with dabs of hot glue.
Turn the project over. Tuck in along the back seam to fit the jeans to the spine. glue in place.
Wrap sides and bottom of the jeans around the edges of the book. Glue in place.
Glue trim over raw edge. Decorate the outside with gems and appliques. Glue trim under belt loops and around top of book.
I really want to do this but I need an old pair of jeans that I don't wear anymore so I will have to wait a bit longer. I hope you enjoy this craft!!!
Until next time,
Socialbutterfly
Presidential Physical Fitness Test (a.k.a. torture for anyone willing to attend... lol)
Hi girls,
So let me give you an update of my major excercising day. On Monday, my family went to a park to have a Presidential Physical Fitness Test (long name huh?) and I was kinda nervous when we first got there because I had never done anything like it before. Well I was happy to see that my friend Olivia (you can see her blog at www.liviemylifeasagirl.blogspot.com ) was attending too. We got our fill in charts and started with a 1 mile run! My requirment was to run the whole mile in less than 6 minutes! Well at the half mile point (when I was still running) I got this horrible cramp on my right side and I felt like falling over dead (may you know I have NEVER tried to run a mile before and I didn't really prepare for this) so my friend Olivia had the same happen to her at the same time too! At the half mile mark, four minutes had already passed and with the cramp I knew I wouldn't make it in two minutes so Olivia and I just walked the rest of the way and ran at the very end. Well, that was the worst part, the rest was rather easy. After the run, we had to do a V-sit to see how far we can stretch out our arms without bending our knees. I reached 37 inches which was above the 50 percentile. Then we had the Shuttle Run and my time was EXACTLY the same as Olivia's! We both did it in 10.83 seconds! Then we did Sit-ups and I did 21 in a minute which wasn't enough to reach the 85 percentile. After that was push-ups which were painful but I kicked out 23 (i wasn't keeping my back perfectly straight though). I did the Flexed Arm Hang which I held on for 26.7 seconds! So I got two tests above 85 percentile, three above 50 percentile and two sadly were below... oh well, it was LOTS of fun (except the running).
TTYL,
SocialButterfly
So let me give you an update of my major excercising day. On Monday, my family went to a park to have a Presidential Physical Fitness Test (long name huh?) and I was kinda nervous when we first got there because I had never done anything like it before. Well I was happy to see that my friend Olivia (you can see her blog at www.liviemylifeasagirl.blogspot.com ) was attending too. We got our fill in charts and started with a 1 mile run! My requirment was to run the whole mile in less than 6 minutes! Well at the half mile point (when I was still running) I got this horrible cramp on my right side and I felt like falling over dead (may you know I have NEVER tried to run a mile before and I didn't really prepare for this) so my friend Olivia had the same happen to her at the same time too! At the half mile mark, four minutes had already passed and with the cramp I knew I wouldn't make it in two minutes so Olivia and I just walked the rest of the way and ran at the very end. Well, that was the worst part, the rest was rather easy. After the run, we had to do a V-sit to see how far we can stretch out our arms without bending our knees. I reached 37 inches which was above the 50 percentile. Then we had the Shuttle Run and my time was EXACTLY the same as Olivia's! We both did it in 10.83 seconds! Then we did Sit-ups and I did 21 in a minute which wasn't enough to reach the 85 percentile. After that was push-ups which were painful but I kicked out 23 (i wasn't keeping my back perfectly straight though). I did the Flexed Arm Hang which I held on for 26.7 seconds! So I got two tests above 85 percentile, three above 50 percentile and two sadly were below... oh well, it was LOTS of fun (except the running).
TTYL,
SocialButterfly
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Craft idea: No-sew Bandana Tote Bag!
No-Sew Bandana Tote Bag No sewing!
Just cut and knot. All you'll need is scissors and two bandanas.
You Need:
Two 22" Bandanas
Fabric Scissors
Instructions:
If bandanas are printed with a blank 1" border, cut this border off in one piece setting aside the scraps for making a handle. Lay bandanas out, wrong sides together, lining up edges as best as possible. Using fabric shears, cut a slit every 3/4" cutting up to the most inner printed square on the bandana. You will be cutting out the corners and discarding these small squares of fabric. Beginning at one of the corners, take one of the fringes from the top and one from the bottom and tie them together in a double knot. Tie one on each corner. Continue tying all around except for the top. This will be left open.
To make the handle, cut each long scrap into two equal pieces. Discard one piece and braid the other three together knotting at each end. Knot and end to each side of the bag. Iron the top fringes down on each side.
Try this fun craft and if you don't have a bandana, you can find them in just about any crafting store or maybe even a dollar store. I am going to try this out once I get two bandanas and make one for my sister.
Hope you enjoy this craft idea!
Until next time,
SocialButterfly
Just cut and knot. All you'll need is scissors and two bandanas.
You Need:
Two 22" Bandanas
Fabric Scissors
Instructions:
If bandanas are printed with a blank 1" border, cut this border off in one piece setting aside the scraps for making a handle. Lay bandanas out, wrong sides together, lining up edges as best as possible. Using fabric shears, cut a slit every 3/4" cutting up to the most inner printed square on the bandana. You will be cutting out the corners and discarding these small squares of fabric. Beginning at one of the corners, take one of the fringes from the top and one from the bottom and tie them together in a double knot. Tie one on each corner. Continue tying all around except for the top. This will be left open.
To make the handle, cut each long scrap into two equal pieces. Discard one piece and braid the other three together knotting at each end. Knot and end to each side of the bag. Iron the top fringes down on each side.
Try this fun craft and if you don't have a bandana, you can find them in just about any crafting store or maybe even a dollar store. I am going to try this out once I get two bandanas and make one for my sister.
Hope you enjoy this craft idea!
Until next time,
SocialButterfly
Monday, June 02, 2008
A real Star
Hey everyone,
After you read this article by Ben Stein, will see that this is so true because we have messed up people like Britney Spears and Jessica Simpson on all the magazines and yet do you hear of our troops saving lives on the other side of the world? Of course not. This is a really good read and I hope you will share this with everyone you know. It is good to be well informed these days! Praise God that America is still a free nation!!! Thank Him for every morning and every day! Tell me what you think about this subject. I would love to hear from you!
“A real star is the soldier of the 4th Infantry Division who poked his head into a hole on a farm near Tikrit, Iraq. He could have been met by a bomb or a hail of AK-47 bullets. Instead, he faced an abject Saddam Hussein and the gratitude of all of the decent people of the world. A real star is the U.S. soldier who was sent to disarm a bomb next to a road north of Baghdad. He approached it, and the bomb went off and killed him. A real star, the kind who haunts my memory night and day, is the U.S. soldier in Baghdad who saw a little girl playing with a piece of unexploded ordnance on a street near where he was guarding a station. He pushed her aside and threw himself on it just as it exploded. He left a family desolate in California and a little girl alive in Baghdad. The stars who deserve media attention are not the ones who have lavish weddings on TV but the ones who patrol the streets of Mosul even after two of their buddies were murdered and their bodies battered and stripped for the sin of trying to protect Iraqis from terrorists. We put couples with incomes of $100 million a year on the covers of our magazines. The noncoms and officers who barely scrape by on military pay but stand on guard in Afghanistan and Iraq and on ships and in submarines and near the Arctic Circle are anonymous as they live and die.” —Ben Stein
Until next time,
SocialButterfly
After you read this article by Ben Stein, will see that this is so true because we have messed up people like Britney Spears and Jessica Simpson on all the magazines and yet do you hear of our troops saving lives on the other side of the world? Of course not. This is a really good read and I hope you will share this with everyone you know. It is good to be well informed these days! Praise God that America is still a free nation!!! Thank Him for every morning and every day! Tell me what you think about this subject. I would love to hear from you!
“A real star is the soldier of the 4th Infantry Division who poked his head into a hole on a farm near Tikrit, Iraq. He could have been met by a bomb or a hail of AK-47 bullets. Instead, he faced an abject Saddam Hussein and the gratitude of all of the decent people of the world. A real star is the U.S. soldier who was sent to disarm a bomb next to a road north of Baghdad. He approached it, and the bomb went off and killed him. A real star, the kind who haunts my memory night and day, is the U.S. soldier in Baghdad who saw a little girl playing with a piece of unexploded ordnance on a street near where he was guarding a station. He pushed her aside and threw himself on it just as it exploded. He left a family desolate in California and a little girl alive in Baghdad. The stars who deserve media attention are not the ones who have lavish weddings on TV but the ones who patrol the streets of Mosul even after two of their buddies were murdered and their bodies battered and stripped for the sin of trying to protect Iraqis from terrorists. We put couples with incomes of $100 million a year on the covers of our magazines. The noncoms and officers who barely scrape by on military pay but stand on guard in Afghanistan and Iraq and on ships and in submarines and near the Arctic Circle are anonymous as they live and die.” —Ben Stein
Until next time,
SocialButterfly
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