tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53396085909971656852024-03-13T05:55:38.864-07:00Welcome to The InnersideAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08848803965895206070noreply@blogger.comBlogger44125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5339608590997165685.post-7945745552567777952014-04-11T12:58:00.001-07:002014-04-11T12:58:31.479-07:00Website Up & RunningMy new website dedicated to my creative writing efforts is now up and running. All future blog posts will appear there. Check out the site at www.mitchellskarnes.com. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08848803965895206070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5339608590997165685.post-57979362436189431672014-03-30T17:24:00.000-07:002014-03-30T17:24:56.961-07:00This is Our ChanceFor years, Christians have been complaining that Hollywood ignores them. If you've kept track over the past two decades you should have noticed a rise in the "R" rated movies and a lessening of family friendly films. Well, I have it from a very reliable source that 2014 holds a wonderful surprise for Christians...14 family-friendly, God friendly films. This is our chance. We can go to the movies and support this risk...or...we can keep complaining and watch the other films...you know, the one's we've complained about. So what will it be?<br />
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I took some of my children to two of these films this past weekend. My 13 year old saw <i>Noah</i> with me, and my 11, 13 and 16 year old daughters just saw <i>God's Not Dead</i> with me today. I have the following comments.<br />
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As to <i>Noah</i>, we were curious, cinematically impressed, but otherwise uninspired. While the movie makers spared no expense on the actors or special effects, they played loosely with the storyline. Because of such, I recommend that you and your family take time to read the story from Genesis chapters 5-9 before attending the film. Take it for what it is, and then take time to compare and contrast the Hollywood version with the truth of God's Word. Watch the film, but do not take it as truth (in and of itself). Use it as a catalyst for discussion of truth.<br />
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As to <i>God's Not Dead</i>, my girls and I were, am, and will continue to be impressed, challenged, and inspired. The film took a simple approach. It offered no special effects, no enormous stars, but offered real life situations and the truth. Wow! The movie brought back horrible memories from my childhood when a friend's father burned a Bible I gave my friend. I waited for lightning to strike the man...and to be honest...was terribly disappointed when God chose to remain silent. <br />
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The truth remains...like it or not, God gives us a choice...believe Him or not. Yes, He loves us that much. He gave everything we needed to have life: His word, His Son, and His love. What else do we need? What else are we waiting for? This is our chance. Seize it today. The same goes for our movie choices. If God is allowing Hollywood to grant these choices: biblical movies...inspirational movies...spiritual movies...shouldn't we go? <br />
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Here are a few that you can see now, and one that's on its way: <i>Son of God, Noah, God's Not Dead, and Heaven is for Real. </i>Support these films...support the truth...support God.<br />
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Mitchell<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08848803965895206070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5339608590997165685.post-31042298935732819292014-03-21T11:18:00.001-07:002014-03-21T11:18:08.140-07:00For a Rainy Day<img src="http://images.fungopher.com/M/I/N/MINIyqcVb/Funny-Animals-Just-saving-for-a-rainy-day.jpg" /><br />
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I grew up hearing my grandmother talk about putting money away for a rainy day. The next time it rained, I asked, "Grandma, you going to get your money?" She smiled and then explained that "a rainy day" didn't mean the next time it rained. It meant she was putting money away for a time when she needed it. Well, this post isn't about rain or money. It is, however, about creative ideas.<br />
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I await the release of book two, <i>The Dragon's Pawn</i>, and I write the rough draft of book three, <i>The Treasure of L'lor Rac Siwel.</i> In the meantime, my mind churns out ideas by the dozens. So what do I do? Do I stop working on the novel and take off on the new tangents? Or do I ignore the new ideas, treating them like distractions, so I can focus on the novel under construction? Actually, I chose neither option.<br />
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I will continue to write on <i>The Treasure of L'lor Rac Siwel</i>, but I pause long enough to sketch out the ideas that are coming like a tsunami. I learned the hard way, put an idea off for another day and I don't remember it. But, I stop long enough to outline and write brief notes about the new idea and return happily to my present project.<br />
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Doing this, I learned a secondary lesson...possibly even greater than the first. I am actually able to focus on my current project and do so without regret. You see, I know the other ideas are safely tucked away for a "rainy day." I just hope I have an audience that will one day appreciate the continuous journey with me.<br />
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That's it for now...back to <i>The Treasure of L'lor Rac Siwel.</i><br />
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MitchellAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08848803965895206070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5339608590997165685.post-39519801173899624992014-03-18T20:19:00.003-07:002014-03-18T20:19:34.170-07:00Judge a Book by its Cover?We've all heard the saying, "Never judge a book by its cover." But how many of us decided whether or not to buy a book because of its cover? I know it's how I choose which books to thumb through and which not to. Those with intriguing, catching covers and titles draw me further in.<br />
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I hope that's true. My first book, <i>The Pact</i>, however, had a very basic cover...just the picture of my four main characters. Its title wasn't very catchy either. But there was a method to my madness.<br />
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Let's face it, this is not the most thrilling of cover choices, but it does have purpose and meaning. In fact, the cover design artist had quite a bit of input on the cover. He actually read the book! The three suggestions I made each limited the title's meaning to one specific idea. Each one held a different meaning, keying in on a specific use of a pact. But, if we backed away, put a picture of the four boys on the cover, the reader could decide which meaning of "the pact" I meant. Quite ingenious. So I went with his idea, and the cover you see above became the print cover.<div>
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Now it's time for book two, <i>The Dragon's Pawn</i>. In this case, we wanted to grab the attention of the potential readers...specifically appealing to young (middle to young high school) boys. And we came up with this: </div>
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As to the title...well, you'll just have to read the book to get that. I don't want to spoil the fun by telling you now. If you do read it, you'll understand what I mean. It releases April 3, 2014 and is already available for pre-release through my publisher's site: "www.blackrosewriting.com" and I hope you'll check it out. After all, the title and the cover do matter. Come on...admit it.</div>
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Mitchell </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08848803965895206070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5339608590997165685.post-7872348059040014902014-03-08T18:20:00.001-08:002014-03-08T18:20:42.900-08:00Long Overdue!Hey, this post is so long overdue it's embarrassing. I have been sick with bronchitis for several weeks and haven't been able to kick it. Well, I am finally feeling like a human being again.<br />
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Anyway, just a short note to say, <i>The Dragon's Pawn</i> is coming soon. I have proofed and reproofed the text and have seen the preliminary art for the cover. I can't wait for it to come out! April 3, the launch date is almost here...so get ready.<br />
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Also, I will be in Tucson (assuming I am finally well) for the Tucson Festival of Books and will be signing copies of my first book in the Canaanshade Journeys, <i>The Pact</i>. I'll post pictures and updates and will be back on my normal cycle of 2-3 posts a week soon.<br />
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Thanks for hanging in there with me. And thanks to those who have been praying for my recovery.<br />
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MitchellAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08848803965895206070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5339608590997165685.post-8462777856953901892014-02-08T08:01:00.003-08:002014-02-08T08:01:56.895-08:00CharacterI posed an interesting question on my Facebook page. If you had to change places with any fictional character, who would it be? It's a fascinating question...<br />
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Instead of selecting someone based on his strengths and powers, you also have to consider his weaknesses and his life consequences. For example: If you chose Atticus Finch because of his strength of character and his integrity, you have to accept the fact you would now be living in a society that devalues equality and is extremely racist. Not to mention you just gave up air-conditioning. What if you chose a superhero such as Spiderman? Then you have all the super-villians out to kill you. Yes, you have superpowers, but you have all the consequences with it. <br />
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Considering the question suddenly makes you aware of the depth of characters in fiction. How do we learn so much about each one? The writer uses two methods: direct characterization and indirect characterization. Direct = "he was lazy" which tells the reader directly what to think. Indirect = "he sat in his chair with his feet up watching as everyone else in the room was busy helping in the kitchen" which allows the reader to come to his own conclusions. It's a difficult decision as a writer. What do I tell and what do I show? And the writer's choices either deflate the story or build it's tension and credibility. This is the struggle I am facing as I continue my saga of Canaanshade. I hope to keep you involved and invested.<br />
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Here are some of the choices you all made in your character-life swap: McClintock, Big Bird, Castle, Snow White, Cinderella (post-shoe fitting), and Frank Reagan. What about you? Who would you choose? Then take a moment to thank the writer for making such a person.<br />
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Mitchell<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08848803965895206070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5339608590997165685.post-65385906429138931362014-01-28T14:45:00.000-08:002014-01-28T14:45:29.174-08:00Cat Got Your Tongue?It sometimes amazes me how difficult it is to say much with so few words. I once prided myself on the ability to be what I called "The Reader's Digest" of writers. I still omit much more detail than most writers, but I am no longer short story driven. I seem to enjoy the depth and intricacies of a novel. <br />
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Now I am faced with the challenge of taking that novel and summarizing it in a few words. Knowing what I put into the various layers of the novel, I am finding it hard to shrink it to less than a hundred words and still capture the depth of the novel's meaning.<br />
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My second challenge is: "About the Author." What does one say about himself? Too much and I am conceited...too little and I am seen as boring. How do I balance humility with important detail? Would love some advice. I guess the cat's got my tongue.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08848803965895206070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5339608590997165685.post-7697462063237012902014-01-23T13:44:00.002-08:002014-01-23T13:44:48.824-08:00I Love It When a Plan Comes Together<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Disclaimer</b>: This article has little to do with the A-Team, but I must give credit to the allusion in my title quote. George Peppard's character would end each episode of the show with the line, "I love it when a plan comes together." Of course the show began with an impossible task, but the team figured it out and achieved the impractical goal.</div>
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I allude to this because I recently completed my first assembly demonstration/talk on bullying since the publication of my book <i>The Pact</i>. My book deals with bullying. It shows the many ways children are bullied as well as various responses to the traumatic experience. I am now speaking at schools with the dual purpose of plugging my novel and educating children on the proper way to deal with bullying.</div>
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As a former English teacher and coach, I wanted the talk to be as informative and enjoyable as possible. As a pastor and father of seven children, I wanted it to be meaningful and helpful. I included the children in my talk to help me identify and define the three basic types of bullying: physical, verbal and social. Then I used an activity to solidify the lesson. I was hoping it would work. It worked well in my head and practiced well with my own children at home.</div>
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The modified tug-o-war is designed to put the largest child on one end (roll-playing as the bully) opposite of the smallest student on the other (roll-playing the victim), so that's precisely what I did. Obviously, the contest is rigged. Then I pulled a second small child from the audience and had her pull alongside of the victim...then a third. By now, the tug-o-war was balanced. When I included a fourth and fifth child, the bully discovered he could hold his ground no longer. Success! "This is what happens when we choose to stand with victims" I said. "After all, no one should ever have to stand alone."</div>
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Once that point was made, I educated the students in the power of spectating and laughing with the bully. I pulled three of the children to the sides and had them stand with their tug leads taut. Then I let the tug-o-war resume. You got it; the bully was able to win again. Then I put the same three children alongside of the bully and said this is what happens when you laugh at the bully's taunting. They gave him even more power. The kids got it...the exercise worked well. The entire assembly of children volunteered to make a pact to stand against bullying.</div>
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I love it when a plan comes together.</div>
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MitchellAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08848803965895206070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5339608590997165685.post-33233223994007464422014-01-13T17:58:00.001-08:002014-01-13T17:58:28.185-08:00Boundaries<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I am currently teaching Cloud & Townsend's book <i>Boundaries</i> at my church on Wednesday nights. This is my second season of sharing this with my congregation and it amazes me the various reasons people attend the class. Some come for the obvious reason...they need help establishing and holding boundaries. Others take the class because they know others who need the help. But a few take the class to see why others are taking it. I kid you not.</div>
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In discussions about boundaries, there are always one or two who seem baffled by the difficulty others have in setting limits. These are the people I call "trespassers." The reason they cannot understand the weaknesses of others is usually because they are the very people who tend to violate the boundary lines of others. If this class holds true to our first group's sessions, and if these trespassers continue to the end, an epiphany will occur and the person will eventually be confronted by his/her aggressive behavior.</div>
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If everything I am saying to you is strange and confusing, I encourage you to buy a copy of the book <i>Boundaries</i> and read it for yourself. We all need help discerning when it is time to say, "Yes," and when it is time to say, "No." God created us and designed boundaries to be healthy lines where an individual can determine, "Where I end and someone else begins." </div>
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It is the perfect guide to the establishment of healthy boundaries and a life of greater peace.</div>
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Mitchell</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08848803965895206070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5339608590997165685.post-27303945947733927372014-01-09T10:26:00.000-08:002014-01-09T10:26:09.132-08:00Conflicting Paths<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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As I look back upon my life-journey I see thousands and thousands of choices. Have you ever wondered, "What if?" I have. It became one of my favorite episodic comic stories produced by Marvel...<i>What if?</i> The writers would take a popular character and retell a story that featured a pivotal decision or event. Only in this <i>What if? </i>episode, Marvel had the character making a different choice, thus altering his/her life. It is the classic <i>It's a Wonderful Life</i> journey. If you could go back and change one choice...alter the outcome of one event would you?<br />
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Choices I made as a child...a teenager...and an adult have helped make me who I am today. Is that good or bad? Could I have been better? Could I have been worse? Of course all we can do is ponder the question. As of this moment there are no magical or technical devices that can take us back...give us the ultimate mulligan on life. But we do have the future before us. If we could go back and would, then how does that affect the decisions we are making right now? How does this knowledge alter the journey ahead?<br />
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In my current book series which began with <i>The Pact</i> my characters will face those very questions...they may even get the opportunity to go back. Would they? Should they? And, if they do, will their lives turn out better or worse? Should we just leave "well enough alone"? As of this moment, I plan to write four books in this series. Book two, <i>The Dragon's Pawn,</i> is set to release on April 3, 2014. I know what I want to do with the characters and their stories. I have books three and four planned. Will that change as I actually write the story? Only time will tell.<br />
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Even the writing path upon which I now stand has its choices. I have a detective series I am longing to write, but it is geared for adults and is quite a bit more graphic and edgy in its content. I believe it has a worth while message, but does that justify a darker story? Or should I just be content to stay with the young adult genre and crank out stories that are made for older children and younger teens? <br />
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It's a tough decision. Both story-lines ebb and flow through my mind, my heart and my dreams. If I had the time, I would write both...but I do not. So, here I stand once again at the fork of two roads...two life-journeys...two conflicting paths. Which way should I go? I hope I don't look back many years from now and wonder, "What if?"<br />
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MitchellAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08848803965895206070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5339608590997165685.post-80914020743006335882014-01-03T08:00:00.000-08:002014-01-03T08:00:07.012-08:00Survivor's Hidden Gem<div style="text-align: center;">
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I stopped watching <i>Survivor</i> after season 3. Changes producers made in the show and the cast selection process lost me as a part of their audience, but those same alterations probably gained them thousands and thousands more. What am I talking about? Glad you asked.<br />
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Season 2 set the show on its ears. From the beginning <i>Survivor's </i>motto was "Outwit, Outlast, Outplay." That's what the producers expected from their cast of contestants. They wanted to divide the contestants from one another and cause conflict. They wanted the contestants to see each other as enemies. They wanted to create bullies. But in their second season, instead of scheming to outwit the others, many of the contestants actually helped one another. Season 2 was considered "boring." <br />
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Well, I'm kind of getting ahead of myself. Back then each show began with the characters being stranded on the location. They were also allowed one "survival item." Most of the contestants brought something to help them in their survival...that would benefit them in the game. One man, an older farmer from Kentucky by the name of Rodger, brought something entirely different...a Bible. It threw the other for a loop, but at one point, when his team needed to start a fire, he tore pages from his Bible to use as starter. When asked how he could do that, he said it was okay, he had it in his heart already.<br />
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At one point in the game of <i>Survivor </i>teams were challenged was issued to jump off of a bluff into a place where the river pooled and then swim to a specified point. The older farmer, Rodger, couldn't swim. Instead of getting angry with him or tormenting him, his team encouraged him. Because of that, he jumped off and did his best. He made it with the help of others...long after the other team's contestant, and was celebrated by his team for his courage.<br />
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He, Colby, Elizabeth and Tina helped each other...looked out for each other...were kind to each other. They were four of the final five contestants. And when it came down to the final three, only one selfish man remained. In a move consistent with their unselfish behavior, Colby voted that man off...knowing full well that would lose him the game to Tina. He did it anyway. What an example of teamwork...of love...of hope. Tina won the million and Colby came in second.<br />
<br />
It just goes to prove the theme of my book <i>The Pact</i>: No one should ever have to stand alone. And it reinforces my theory: if we stand together, bullies will not prevail. It was <i>Survivor's</i> hidden gem and a lesson for us all.<br />
<br />
Mitchell<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08848803965895206070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5339608590997165685.post-5317370563303457342013-12-27T08:25:00.000-08:002013-12-27T08:25:02.586-08:00Hats off to Graham Diamond<img alt="3351607" src="http://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1346599989l/3351607.jpg" />The first book I ever read for pleasure was <i>The Haven</i> by Graham Diamond. We (my older sister, older brother and I) were kind of stranded in a Miami hotel (I know it sounds horrible) while our father attended post graduate dental seminars. We went to the pool, stayed in our room and ate in the hotel's dining room. <br />
<br />
As a young, active boy, that was torture. The pool was great for the first few days, but as the week went on, I got extremely bored. My mother, tired of my incessant whining, gave me some money and told me to go down to the hotel's gift shop and find something to occupy my time. That's when I saw it! The cover (shown above) gripped me. I was in junior high (middle school for those young enough to know what junior high was), and that's exactly the kind of thing I wanted to read. <br />
<br />
I bought the book and went back to the pool. I opened the cover and I read...and read...and read...and read. I couldn't put it down. I read in the room, by the pool, and in the dining room. I finished it that week, and I was a slow reader...still am for that matter. I dug for all the details and underlying messages like a young Sherlock Holmes. I searched for more of Graham Diamond's books.<br />
<br />
I later found <i>Lady of the Haven </i>(the sequel), and was hooked forever. I anxiously awaited the next book and then the next. I invested myself not only in the story but in the characters as well. When I later began to play Dungeons and Dragons, I used a couple of Graham's characters in my journeys. I'm a little ashamed to admit it as an adult, but I was hopelessly in love with Stacey, the lead character of the series.<br />
<br />
Long story short...I was on sabbatical this last summer (at the age of 50) and somehow stumbled across a Facebook person by the name of Graham Diamond. Believe it or not, he actually befriended me. My secret mentor, my favorite author, the man who instilled not only a love for reading, but a passion for writing. Thanks, Graham. You made my day and my half century.<br />
<br />
I just learned from Graham that they are re-releasing his first novel, The Haven. If you've never read it, I would encourage you to do so. Maybe it will inspire you as it did me. <br />
<br />
MitchellAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08848803965895206070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5339608590997165685.post-36509424169634227372013-12-26T11:53:00.001-08:002013-12-26T11:53:15.788-08:00A New Year?<br />
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I am looking forward to 2014...especially as an author. I have scheduled several speaking & signing engagements for the new year and am eagerly awaiting the release (April 3, 2014) of my second book in the Canaanshade series. My lifelong dreams are finally coming to fruition!<br />
<br />
It made me wonder about dreams and resolutions. What do we dream about? What do we long for? And why does it take so long for some of these dreams to come true? If they ever do. I have wanted to write all of my life, but things kept getting in the way of that dream. Still, the longing never waned.<br />
<br />
Finally, at the age of 50, I've managed to make time for that dream. One of my writing mentors once told me: "Mitchell, you don't want to write...you want to have written." That was certainly true back then, but now...as I've hopefully matured...I actually long to write. Of course it's an even greater pleasure to watch someone read my stories. Sharing is twice the delight.<br />
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My 2014 New Year's resolutions are: to be a better husband, father and pastor...and to enlarge my audience and influence as an author. I hope this is just the beginning of a long and prosperous writing career. So, will I keep the pace and discipline throughout the New Year? I hope so...but only time will tell. I hope I don't have to wait around for another new year for it to happen. <br />
<br />
See you in 2014! May God bless us one and all! <br />
<br />
Mitchell S KarnesAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08848803965895206070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5339608590997165685.post-84429916164756216472013-12-25T11:00:00.000-08:002013-12-25T11:00:04.928-08:00The Things Stories are Made ofMerry Christmas Everyone!<br />
<br />
Having seven kids from 10-24 years of age (5 teenagers at one time), I am often down on them. Let's face it, teenagers usually don't think of anyone else but themselves. It gets old...having five at once it gets old really quick. Don't get me wrong...I love my kids. I just don't <i>like</i> them all of the time.<br />
<br />
Well, this Christmas I had my full of them. Seeing that "entitlement" is one of my biggest pet peeves, and since most of my children were feeling entitled to a big Christmas ("cash only this Christmas, Dad"), I lost all of the sense of pleasure the season could offer...that was until two specific events changed my attitude and my heart.<br />
<br />
First, my family attended and participated in our church's annual Christmas Eve service. We're a small church that runs 145-165 on a Sunday. Well, our little church had over 200 people in our Christmas Eve service. Can you believe it? On the eve of our culture's "give me" Christmas glitz, over 200 people set aside an hour of their precious time to celebrate the real reason for the season...our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. It was beautiful...probably the greatest gift I've had in a long time. And, as we left church, we passed church after church of people going to or coming from Christmas Eve worship services. Wow!<br />
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Then, as my children's attitudes of entitlement persisted, that wonder and joy slipped back away. I went to bed dreading once again the Christmas time. And as I drifted off to sleep I wondered how we digressed from Wise Men bringing precious gifts from afar to everyone else getting gifts on Jesus' birthday. Can you imagine the look on your child's face if he/she sat down at the birthday table, blew out the candles and watched everyone else exchange gifts? No one gave him/her any? I don't think they would be very happy.<br />
<br />
Well, back to my family. We exchanged our gifts and I walked away disappointed in the lack of appreciation and gratitude. Then, my oldest daughter gave my wife and I an envelope. It was the first of many clues that led to a surprise. At the end of our journey we opened a gift sack that had a letter of thanks, a gift card for a dinner date, and a reservation to a hotel. They had even arranged places for each of them to stay with friends or family. Wow! Just when I had given up, God surprised me again. <br />
<br />
Now, those are the things stories are made of. Merry Christmas to all...and to all a great new year!<br />
<br />
MitchellAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08848803965895206070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5339608590997165685.post-15610554078524118242013-12-19T07:26:00.002-08:002013-12-19T07:26:40.942-08:00Announcing Book Signing and Book Tour ScheduleI've finally moved into the new house. Well, let's just say I've moved out of the old one. We are still in boxes and can't find anything. I'm sure I'll eventually get settled.<br />
<br />
I also have fantastic news! I will have my first official book signing at Barnes and Noble of Cool Springs in Franklin, TN on January 31, 2014. It is a "Meet and Greet" event for local authors and I have been invited to participate.<br />
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<br />
<br />
Also, my novel, <i>The Pact</i>, will be on a 10 Blog Book Tour in January and February of 2014. Here is the schedule. Please check out the sites and chime in with your questions and comments. <br />
<br />
Tuesday, January 28: Tiffany's Bookshelf<br />
Thursday, January 30: Jorie Loves a Story<br />
Monday, February 3: Patricia's Wisdom<br />
Wednesday, February 5: You Can Read Me Anything<br />
Monday, February 10: Suko's Notebook<br />
Wednesday, February 12: Maureen's Musings<br />
Monday, February 17: Seaside Book Nook<br />
Tuesday, February 18: The Things You Can Read<br />
Wednesday, February 20: Savings in Seconds<br />
<br />
I will be attending The Tucson Festival of Books and manning my publisher's (Black Rose Writing) booth and signing copies of <i>The Pact </i>Saturday, March 15, 2014<i>.</i> And finally, <i>The Dragon's Pawn</i>, book two of the Cannanshade series (<i>the Pact</i> is book one), is scheduled for release on April 3. <br />
<br />
Feel free to post questions or comments here on <i>The Pact</i>, if you've read it. Pass the word along. Thanks again for your support<br />
<br />
Mitchell S KarnesAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08848803965895206070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5339608590997165685.post-18214968564672995522013-11-23T12:23:00.002-08:002013-11-23T12:23:41.014-08:00Progress...progressI just heard from a state counseling association for schools today. They are interested in hearing more about <i>The Pact</i> and the speaking program I do for bullying. This would be an incredible opportunity for me and a major door opened for both speaking and writing.<br />
<br />
It's nice to know my book not only entertains, but also educates and makes a difference in the lives of children and teenagers. It's not happening overnight, but I am making progress. Keep praying and I'll keep pushing forward.<br />
<br />
MitchellAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08848803965895206070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5339608590997165685.post-67752919462843557232013-11-21T05:55:00.001-08:002013-11-21T05:55:34.131-08:00Cranking it up...but overwhelmedI am officially overwhelmed! I've had to put my writing temporarily on hold. I am trying to patch and paint all the walls of my house so a renter can move in on December 15. I am also trying to coordinate change of banks and utilities so we can move into our new house on December 2. If that weren't enough, I am trying desperately to get my writing career off of the ground. Here's what's going on in that realm.<br />
<br />
2014 is looking up for my writing career. In January I have my first speaking engagement on bullying at BGA's Lower School in Franklin, TN, using <i>The Pact</i> as a catalyst. In January and February I have a 10 Blog Book Tour. Not exactly sure what that is, but I'm excited to have my book reviewed and get the word out into the the cyberworld. In February all of my final revisions are due on book 2 of the Canaanshade series, <i>The Dragon's Pawn</i>. In March I head out to Tucson for the annual Tucson Festival of Books to man a booth for my publisher, Black Rose Writing, and plug <i>The Pact</i>. I hear 120,000 people attend the festival.<br />
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All of that and I am still holding down a full time job as a pastor...and am the father of seven children (5 of which are teenagers right now!). I've heard of burning the candle at both ends, but my is being consumed by a blow-torch. That's okay though...this is a dream come true.<br />
<br />
So long for now. I'm cranking it up...but overwhelmed.<br />
<br />
Mitchell S KarnesAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08848803965895206070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5339608590997165685.post-21457621959726899962013-11-18T19:35:00.001-08:002013-11-18T19:35:56.477-08:00Bullying...an unfortunate hot topicIt is sad to say that <i>The Pact</i> is hitting a hot topic these days. Why is that sad? Because it means too many people are being bullied by others. <br />
<br />
When we think of bullying, a scrawny little kid with glasses being cornered by the over-sized jock comes to mind. Unfortunately that is just a stereotype and bullying takes many forms. Why even a huge, athletic professional football player has recently come forward with his tale. In fact, the bullying was so incessant and traumatic that this grown man gave up his dream...the NFL.<br />
<br />
So, if bullying can affect a muscular athlete like that, just think what it does to the isolated, defenseless younger child. Add to that the anonymity of cyber-bullying, and we have an epidemic on our hands. My book, <i>The Pact</i>, isn't the cure to bullying, but it is a catalyst for a healthy discussion of its effects. It is available at "blackrosewriting.com" "Amazon.com" and "barnesandnoble.com" Pick one up today.<br />
<br />
I have recently scheduled my first talk on bullying. I will be addressing an assembly of K-4th graders. I hope to impress them with the reality of bullying, teach effective means to stifle it, and challenge them all to make a pact: "No one should ever have to stand alone."<br />
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Sincerely,<br />
<br />
Mitchell S Karnes<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08848803965895206070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5339608590997165685.post-90605162956891787132013-10-31T16:18:00.000-07:002013-10-31T16:19:17.677-07:00The Dragon's Pawn out of my handsI'm really starting to like this writing gig. Less than five months ago my first legitimate novel was released by Black Rose Writing, an independent press in Texas. Tomorrow, I will submit the revised copy of book two, The Dragon's Pawn. It's out of my hands. And, believe it or not, I'm ready to let go.<br />
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The Canaanshade series continues. Now I am hard at work on book three, The Treasure of L'lor Rac Siwel. Book three highlights the war to end all wars of Canaanshade...the surface dwellers are under attack by all the underground creatures and the giants. If the infamous red and black dragon chimes in, the war will definitely tip in the favor of evil.<br />
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What will happen? Will the surface dwellers join forces in time? And will our heroes find a way back to the real world before it's too late? I'll let you know the answers to these questions and more when the time comes. Until then...stay tuned.<br />
<br />
MitchellAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08848803965895206070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5339608590997165685.post-27721049571003491032013-10-29T16:01:00.001-07:002013-10-29T16:01:28.439-07:00The Adventure ContinuesIt's hard to believe The Pact has been out for two months already. The Dragon's Pawn is poised for a late spring/early summer 2014 release, and book three is underway. Here are my suggested themes:<br />
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The Pact - "No one should ever have to stand alone." <br />
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The Dragon's Pawn - "Redemption is possible for everyone."<br />
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<br />
The Treasure of L'lor Rac Siwel - "Heroism requires sacrifice."<br />
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Return to Canannshade - "Love conquers all."<br />
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Of course, only time will tell how the subsequent books turn out, but that's where it's all heading. I am hoping book three will release in 2015 and book four in 2016. That would be cool because my 35th high school class reunion is in the summer of 2016.<br />
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Keep reading. Keep giving your feedback. The Pact begins the story. With The Dragon's Pawn, the adventure continues. Thanks for your support.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08848803965895206070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5339608590997165685.post-87219520768035989352013-10-24T15:27:00.000-07:002013-10-24T15:27:10.970-07:00Back and RunningHey, everyone, I'm back and running. Been extremely busy with church, five kids still living at home, trying to sell our home, and finishing book two, <i>The Dragon's Pawn.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
It's been really wild lately. I've been asked by my publisher to attend the Tucson Book Festival in March 2014. I live in Tennessee, so that's quite and honor and a trip. I accepted.<br />
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I didn't realize how much PR a writer has to do in the process of getting a writing career launched. It's a lot of work, but it's fun too. Of course I still have a full time career (pastor) and a full house of people (five kids and two adults).<br />
<br />
It is truly an amazing journey...beginning a writing career. It took forever to finish the first book. Now I can't seem to write them fast enough. The story's already in my head and anxious to get onto the page. If you've read the first book, <i>The Pact,</i> I would love your feedback (+ or -). It all helps.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I'll try to be back on a regular basis...at least once a week...to keep you posted as to the progress. Thanks for your patience.<br />
<br />
MitchellAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08848803965895206070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5339608590997165685.post-42372702090922519532013-09-28T10:41:00.000-07:002013-09-28T10:41:29.956-07:00Till Death We Do PartIt was always a staple expression in the vows of wedding: "Till death we do part." Now it seems to be an option. The modern vow is conditional and really states, "Until you cease to please me and something better comes along." What a shame!<br />
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What is it that eroded our sense of commitment and sacrifice? When did we become a world of narcissists? When did the other person's pleasing and serving of us override the desire to please and serve them? I'm not sure, but it has.<br />
<br />
Sadder yet...this has also happened to our commitment and service to God. We have reduced the Almighty God, Creator of the Universe, to our personal genie in a bottle...there to serve our demands and wishes rather than the other way around. It's time we all took a stand and reversed this trend. <br />
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One person CAN make a difference. Will you be that one?<br />
<br />
MitchellAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08848803965895206070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5339608590997165685.post-77017695465705833252013-09-19T16:42:00.001-07:002013-09-19T16:42:02.641-07:00Dreams or Nightmares?I was talking with someone the other day who would not allow herself to get excited for me. I finally had the fulfillment of a lifelong dream and have a book published...not by me, but by a real publisher. I was excited, but she cautioned me...told me to be careful not to get too excited or the fall would be unbearable.<br />
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Should I be so worried about the fall that I never enjoy the flight? Should the nightmare outweigh the dream? Absolutely not! I may never experience the dream again. I hope I do, but I may not. So, in my book (no pun intended) I should enjoy the success while I have it.<br />
<br />
My parents were opposites for most of my life. They have each mellowed a little and gravitated toward the middle over the years. But I used to say: "Give my mom a pony and she's worried about where it'll go to the bathroom." "Give my dad the crap and he'll dig until he finds the pony." One thing I learned early on: sometimes my mom worried so much about the train crash that she never enjoyed the ride.<br />
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Go ahead and dream. Enjoy successes while you have them. Live now as you also prepare for eternity. As far as I remember, Jesus said, "I came that you might have life, and have it to the full" (John 10:10). So enjoy the blessings He gives and look forward to the greatest blessing of all.<br />
<br />
MitchellAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08848803965895206070noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5339608590997165685.post-70009716166112149162013-09-07T08:42:00.001-07:002013-09-07T08:42:41.861-07:00Inspiration...receive it and then pass it on.Do you ever stop and think why you like what you do? Why your interests are different than those of others? I do often.<br />
<br />
As a pastor, I know of two men who inspired me to be the pastor that I am. These men were good preachers, but they were fantastic pastors. The first was Arthur Farmer. He was my pastor two times: once when I was a child and again when I was a teenager. Arthur was more of a grandfather than just a pastor. He took the time to listen. He guided me. He cared for people. He was one of the most gentle and loving men I ever knew. he taught me that being a pastor was more than just being prepared to preach. It was teaching and showing others that the most important thing they could do in life was to love God and to love others.<br />
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The second man didn't come into my life until much later. In fact I was an adult with children before I met him. But his influence was and is still tremendous in my life. He wasn't the best of preachers, but that didn't seem to matter. He was the best pastor ever. He truly loved people and it showed. He was humble in spirit, but wise beyond measure. He remains an inspiration to me today.<br />
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By the way, both of these men passed on their pastoral libraries (at least a large portion of them) to me. Thank you both.<br />
<br />
As a writer, I have to credit Graham Diamond over others. I wasn't much of a reader growing up...unless you counted comicbooks. One summer my family went to Florida. Don't get too excited. It was one of my father's many post-graduate studies. We got the trip, but stayed in the hotel almost the entire week while he went to classes. It was okay, I guess. We went to the pool most of the time. Well, I got bored of the pool and went to the hotel's store. I found a book that caught my eye. It was black with a picture of a dog's head. His mouth was open wide, teeth baring and one fang had something dripping from it. I bought it. That's the last thing I remember about that trip. I couldn't put the book down. <br />
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Later that year and the years to follow, I read every Graham Diamond book I could find. Then I started really writing my own stories. Oh, I had tried since I was 5 to write stories, but they were never very good. But his tales did something to me. Thanks Graham for the inspiration.<br />
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One last thought: this summer while I was on sabbatical in New York, I came into contact with Graham Diamond. Believe it or not, he requested to be my friend on Facebook! Well, he is now reading my book. How cool is that? God is good.<br />
<br />
MitchellAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08848803965895206070noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5339608590997165685.post-6313756299111297482013-09-05T16:59:00.002-07:002013-09-05T16:59:26.391-07:00"Isaiah's Gift" part 3 of 3"Isaiah's Gift" - the conclusion This is a much larger portion than the others, but it is the rest of the story. I hope you enjoy it and understand it. I would love feedback on the story.<br />
<br />
...Monday morning Sarah waited in the hallway of the
science building. She decided the missing
student in B lab was way too effeminate and manicured to ever be caught dead in
a sweat shirt of any kind. As the
student in D lab entered the room, he did so without a limp or a gray hoodie,
but he was bent over and had multiple bruises on his cheek and jaw. The young student was wearing black leather
gloves but was wearing a blue windbreaker. It was dark that night, maybe Chrystal had
made a mistake. Sarah took a picture of
the boy with her phone. Then, she turned
the audio recorder on, held it to her side, and introduced herself to the
stranger. “Hi, I’m Sarah. What’s your name?” He looked up, but didn’t answer. “Your name?” she asked again.<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The
boy looked around the room. “Is this
some kind of joke?” he asked through swollen lips.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“What? A joke?
Heaven’s no,” she said. “I just
wanted to get your name.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Isaiah,”
he said shyly. “Isaiah Carpenter.” He extended his hand and shook Sarah’s. “Nice to meet you, Sarah.” He sat on the gray metal lab stool and set
his backpack on the counter. “Are you a
new student too?” he asked, making room for her at the next stool.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Goodness,
no.” She blushed at the thought of
Isaiah thinking she could possibly be a medical student. “I’m a journalism major.” Then she took a wild shot. “I’m Chrystal’s roommate.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He
put his laptop on the desk. “Who?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Chrystal
Jennings. She’s my roommate.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“I’m
sorry. Am I supposed to know her?” he
asked, flipping up the screen.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The
graduate student running the lab cleared her throat and motioned to the
door. Sarah whispered, “She was attacked
last Thursday,” and then left. As Isaiah
looked back to his laptop to turn it on, he noticed a card with Chrystal’s name
and number. He glanced back to the door,
but the girl with short brown hair had gone, so he slipped the card into his
pocket and quickly busied himself with the lab assignment posted on the
whiteboard.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Two
days later, as Isaiah walked down the hall towards his lab, he recognized the brown
haired girl from Monday. Sarah was
standing at the door to his lab with the red-headed girl from the
courtyard. She was smiling at him. “Isaiah,” Sarah said, pointing in the
direction of her friend. “This is
Chrystal…my roommate.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He
held out the gloved hand and Chrystal shook it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Isaiah
was befuddled; people actually wanted to talk with him, but it was time for
lab. He pulled his hand free from her
grasp and added apologetically, “If you don’t mind, I’ve got class.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Did
you get my card?” Chrystal asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes,” he said, looking
past the two women and into the awaiting lab.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“But you didn’t call,”
she said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“I’m
sorry, but I’ve got class and I’m already a week behind.” Isaiah slipped between the two women and into
his lab. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Wait,” Chrystal said. “I need to talk with you.” They watched him take his seat, but he never
looked back.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“You sure that’s the one?” Sarah
asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Absolutely,”
Chrystal answered looking through the small square glass window to the
room. “I’d remember that voice
anywhere. And look, he’s still wearing
the gloves.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Sarah
couldn’t imagine the scrawny little boy scaring anyone off. “He’s sweet, but he’s just a kid. I mean he’s what fifteen…sixteen at the most?”
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“That’s him.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-add-space: auto;">
“So
where’s the limp?” Sarah failed to
notice the lack of bruises on his lip and face.
“Come on,” Chrystal said as she pulled Sarah from the little window in
the door. “He<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
won’t be out of class for another hour. Now that we know who he is, we can print off
his class schedule and find him any time we want.” Chrystal checked her watch and ran on to her
own class. “I can’t afford to miss my
class either.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
They
ran their respective ways: Sarah to
world literature and Chrystal to calculus.
Her math class ran five minutes over-time, so as soon as the professor
dismissed them, she bolted out of the room and over to the science
building. By the time she arrived, the
lab was completely empty. Chrystal ran
out of the building and scanned the campus for any sight of Isaiah. Off in the distance, down the sidewalk beside
the early education department’s affiliate school, Chrystal caught sight of the
back of a blue windbreaker. <i>Isaiah! </i> She ran after him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Isaiah
rolled his neck from side to side. The
bruises had healed quickly, but the stiffness in his neck and back were
lingering. He had taken quite a
beating. Isaiah walked down the shaded
area of the sidewalk, past the preschool manned by Everbrite’s education
students. As he glanced over to the
playground full of children, a little girl waved at him. He waved back. When she waved again, her other hand slipped
momentarily from the swing’s chain, causing her to flip back out of the seat
and land awkwardly on the ground. She
screamed as she got to her knees and discovered her right arm bent back behind
her, dangling loosely. Isaiah was over
the chain link fence in a single leap.
As children scrambled chaotically, screaming for the nearest teacher to
come see Izzy’s arm, Isaiah rushed to the little girl’s side. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chrystal
watched quietly from the other side of the fence as Isaiah looked toward the
school building one more time before removing his black gloves, rolling up the
girl’s sleeve, and touching her arm. She
screamed for anyone to save her from the strange man, but the moment Isaiah
touched her skin, she stopped. The
little girl stared in awe. She straightened
her arm and moved it back and forth without pain. Even though he was a complete stranger,
something about him seemed to calm her. Isaiah
whispered something in her hear as he wiped her eyes with his left hand; she
stared into the eyes of the strange man kneeling over her. It was a moving sight. Chrystal felt the tear rolling down her own
cheek. Isaiah whispered something else, picked
up the gloves in his left hand, and grabbed his right arm that had gone
suddenly limp, pulling it to his side.
Isaiah bit his lip as he doubled over in pain and shuffled to the
fence. He glanced back once more to see
if anyone was watching before struggling to climb back over the fence. As soon as Isaiah got one leg and the upper
part of his body over the edge of the fence, someone grabbed his jacket and
steadied him as he fell to the ground.
Isaiah winced in obvious pain. As
Chrystal reached for his hand, he pulled away.
“Don’t touch me!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Sorry,”
she said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Just give me some room,”
he snapped as he struggled to put the gloves back on his hands.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“What’s going on?” she
asked. Chrystal looked back and forth between the little girl who stood
silently waving and Isaiah who was bent over in pain, cradling his own arm. The moment Chrystal grabbed Isaiah by the
shoulders to make him face her, he dropped to his knees. He slumped over and cried silently for a
moment or two before rising, pulling away from her grasp and running off. He cradled the injured arm with his
left. Chrystal started to follow after
him, calling, “Isaiah!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Leave
me alone,” he said. “Just leave me
alone!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Chrystal
let him go. Instead she returned to the playground. The little girl leaned against the fence,
gripping the chain links with both hands, and watched Isaiah run away. “What did he say?” Chrystal asked. But before the girl could answer, one of the
preschool teachers found Izzy, pulled her from the fence, questioned her about
the stranger and examined her arm. She turned
and chided the children gathered around for lying and corralled them all back
inside. Chrystal stood silently for
several minutes before realizing she was once again late for her next class. Isaiah was hiding something, and she was determined
to discover what his secret was.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Three
days later, around four in the afternoon, Chrystal spotted Isaiah across the
courtyard in front of the library and waved him down. He waited for her. “Where have you been?” she asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Around.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“You
missed class yesterday.” She looked at
his right arm holding the heavy backpack containing his laptop. “I’m so confused,” she said, pulling her long
red hair behind her ear. Isaiah noticed
her slurred speech and alcohol soured breath.
He set the pack on the ground and motioned to a nearby bench. Chrystal sat.
“I saw it” she swore, pointing to his shoulder. “Your arm was hurt.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Isaiah
stretched it out and showed her nothing was wrong. “I’m okay.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“But
I saw you,” she challenged. “You touched
the girl, healed her arm, and yours was suddenly broken.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Isaiah
pulled the windbreaker’s hood back and smiled.
“There’s nothing wrong with my arm.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“No,
no, no” Chrystal said, waving her finger back and forth in Isaiah’s face. “You can’t fool me. It’s just like my ankle.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“You
don’t know what you’re saying,” he said, leaning away to take a breath of fresh
air.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“You
touched my ankle, and then you limped away.
Today you don’t have any limp.
Your arm was broke and now it’s not.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Are
you drunk?” he asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Want
some?” she asked. Chrystal smiled and
put her arm around his neck. “You’re
cute. If you weren’t so young, I might
just take you home with me.” She winked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“No
thanks. Besides, I’m not as young as you
may think,” Isaiah said. He looked at
his watch. “You’re drunk and it’s only
four in the afternoon. What’s going on?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“It’s
Saturday.” She grabbed a lock of his
chocolate brown hair and twirled it between her fingers. “Do your parents let you go out yet?” she
asked, nuzzling against his shoulder and neck.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“My
parents aren’t alive; they passed away several years ago,” Isaiah said,
scooting down the bench to create a little more space.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Oh,
no!” she said. “I’m soooo sorry.” When she said it, she let out a big breath of
air, right in his face. Then she covered
her mouth and giggled. “How did they
die?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Isaiah
waved the fumes from his face. “Natural
causes, why are you suddenly so interested in me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“You’re
cute!” she said. Then, scooting back
toward him on the bench, she asked, “Do you think I’m cute?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Isaiah
didn’t know how to answer. If he said, “No,”
he’d hurt her already fragile ego. But
if he said, “yes,” he’d encourage more of her inappropriate behavior. He’d just tell her the truth and let her deal
with it. “Chrystal, I think you are a
beautiful woman, but not so much when you’re drunk or being promiscuous.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“You
think I’m beautiful?” she asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Isaiah
pulled away from her touch and stood next to the bench. “Not right now, I don’t.” About that time, a familiar group of athletes
came their way.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Chrystal,”
one shouted. “We’ve been looking all
over for you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Isaiah
looked deep into the girl’s bloodshot eyes.
He knew exactly what lay before her.
He’d seen it before…too many times before. “You don’t have to do this,” he said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“You
don’t understand,” she said. “Someone
like you would never understand.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Like
me?” he asked<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Come
on, baby, let’s have some fun,” another one said. “We brought the stuff.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Crystal
looked up into Isaiah’s eyes and matched his glance. He could tell her eyes were distant and full
of sorrow. She seemed momentarily to
plead with him for help, but then she winked, blew him a kiss and said, “Let’s
party, boys!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Isaiah
turned to the crowd of men. They were as
drunk as Chrystal. “Leave her alone,
guys. She’s in no shape to party.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The
leader of their group stepped forward and grabbed Isaiah by the collar. “Hey, it’s the black gloved freak again. I thought I taught you a lesson the other
day, but…” Before he finished the
sentence, he punched Isaiah in the stomach and kneed his face. Isaiah reeled backward and fell to the ground,
grabbing his face. “Come on, Chrystal,
the guys are waiting.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
She
was torn, even in her inebriated state.
She wanted so desperately to help Isaiah as he had helped her, but she didn’t
want to jeopardize her popularity with the in crowd on campus by sticking up
for the outcast. But he looked so
helpless and desperate, lying there in the fetal position. Once again, Chrystal’s desire to be social
won out and she left in the groping arms of the men. She hated herself for it, but didn’t have a
choice. Did she? She needed to be needed, if even just for
sex.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Later
that same night, there was a knock at his door.
“Pizza,” she said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Just
a minute,” Isaiah said as he put the gloves on his hands and grabbed the money
from the counter. He opened the
door. “Sarah?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-add-space: auto;">
“What
happened to your nose?” she asked, noticing the broken nose and the swelling
eye. “Some jocks on campus…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-add-space: auto;">
“Who?”
she asked. “Let me know and I’ll…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-add-space: auto;">
“Do
nothing,” he said. “Every campus has
them.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-add-space: auto;">
“Well,
that doesn’t make it right.” He
smiled. It felt nice to have someone
come to his<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
aid. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I appreciate the
sentiment,” Isaiah said, “but it’s best if we just leave it alone.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I don’t think leaving it
alone will help anything,” Sarah said.
“Those bullies need to be taught a lesson.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“They will one day. Trust me; they will.” She could tell he didn’t want to linger on
the subject. He was grateful for her
keen sense of perception.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Hey, I didn’t know you
lived in Pembroke Apartments.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Yeah,”
he said, handing her the money. “It’s
cheap and close to campus. Keep the
change.” He wished he could give her
more. These were the kinds of people he
wanted to help.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Thanks,”
she said. Pointing to her red hat with a
caricature of a short stumpy Italian man tossing a pizza, she said, “Goofy,
huh?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Not
really,” Isaiah assured her. “It’s my
favorite place. Besides, nothing to be
ashamed of; it’s an honest living.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Well,
I have to pay for school,” she said. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Noting
that Sarah wasn’t rushing off, Isaiah said, “Won’t you get in trouble if you’re
late getting back?” He opened the box
and offered her a slice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Not
really,” she said as she shook her head to the offer of pizza. She’d eaten enough pizza to last her a
lifetime. It was cheap and when someone
failed to pick up his order, they were allowed to eat it. Those were free, and even Sarah couldn’t pass
up a free meal. Right now she had other
things on her mind. “But you probably
want to be alone,” she offered picking up on his subtle cue.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Isaiah
smiled. Sarah was the first person in
decades to actually show interest in his opinion. “Not really,” he said. “It’s just ends up that way…a lot.” He put his hand to his ribs as he bent over
and set the box on a small coffee table.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“You
okay?” she asked, noticing the wince on his face.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
He
cocked his head to the side. “I’ll be
fine; thanks.” Turning to the curious
girl, Isaiah added, “You’re welcome to hang around…if you want.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Sarah looked at the clock
on her phone and said, “I gotta go.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Sure,” he said, “I
understand.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“But I get off in a
couple hours.” Then something hit
her. “Oh, I better not, Chrystal would
kill me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“I
wouldn’t worry about Chrystal,” he said.
“She’s occupied at the moment.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I meant…you know…she
kind of likes you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Oh!” He was taken back that Sarah would be
concerned for her roommate’s relationships, but not for her reputation.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I definitely wouldn’t
concern yourself with that. I have no
romantic interests in Chrystal.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Who
talks like that anymore?” Sarah asked.
“I know this is none of my business, but I am a journalist after
all. How old are you, really?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Forty-seven,”
he said with a straight face.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Yeah,
right,” she said. “I meant
chronologically.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m a whole lot older
than I look,” he said with a smile.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Okay, so don’t tell
me.” She put the red oven bag under her
arm and turned for the door. “You sure
it’s okay if I stop by later?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Of
course,” Isaiah said. It would be nice
to have company, especially intelligent, nice company. The years had left him feeling incredibly
lonely. “My door is always open to
you.” Sarah left and he secured the door
behind her. Once she was out of sight,
Isaiah took the gloves from his hands and started to take a bite of the pizza,
but stopped. <i>They never believe me</i>, he thought.
Isaiah looked in the mirror. Why
should they? He’d stopped aging right
after his sixteenth birthday…right after his dad…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Isaiah’s
cell phone rang. “Hello.” He listened to the aged voice quivering on
the other end of the phone. “Hey sis,”
he finally said. “What’s up?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
There
was a long pause. “Isaiah, I know I
swore I’d never ask this of you again, but he’s really bad.” Isaiah took a deep breath and let it out
slowly. He really didn’t want to go
through this another time. “If you could
just come back home…just for the day…just long enough to…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Marcie,
you know I can’t. Some things are just
meant to be.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Just
one more time, Isaiah? Please, for
me? Henry’s in a lot of pain. His heart isn’t strong enough to go through
another attack.” He didn’t answer. The silence was deafening. “Just once more? I promise I won’t ask again.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Isaiah
wiped the tear from his eye and covered the phone as he sniffled. “I’m sorry, Marcie. As much as I hate to say it, 'no.' It’s his time. It’s been his time for the last five years.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Suddenly
her demeanor and attitude did a one-eighty.
She turned angry and violent. “Don’t
you be a selfish little twit, Isaiah Carpenter!
Don’t you dare turn me away this time…”
She never got to finish the thought for Isaiah hit the red button
marked, “end.” He pushed the pizza box
away and sat down. He put his head in
his hands.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Two
hours later the knock woke him.
“What? Coming.” He opened the door and there stood
Sarah. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“You
look awful,” she said. “Should I come
back another time?” He waved her
in. She noticed the untouched box of
pizza. “What happened?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“I
got a call,” he started, but choked up.
“My brother in law…he passed.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
She
put her hand tenderly on his shoulder.
“I’m so sorry.” She followed him
to the small table and sat down. The
apartment was tiny with only a small kitchenette, a bed and a bathroom. “Would it be better if I left you alone, or
do you need company?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“If you don’t mind, I’d
prefer you stay,” he said. It had been
so long since he had someone to talk with…someone who wanted to give…not just
take from him. He asked her to stay, and
she did; they talked for hours. After
the first half hour, Sarah stopped her journalistic probing and just chatted casually
with Isaiah. They had more in common
than either realized. The two talked and
laughed until Sarah received an emergency text and had to excuse herself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Everything okay?” he
asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“It’s
Chrystal,” she said with a sigh. “She’s
gotten into a little trouble again. I’m
going to go get her.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Do
you need any help?” he asked. She nodded
with a smile. He was cute, even with the
broken nose and blackening eye. It was
too much of a shame he was so young.
Even though he had to be in his mid to late teens, he acted more maturely
than all of the other college guys, even those twice his age. They got into Sarah’s car and drove to the
frat house across campus. When they
pulled up, they found Chrystal lying sprawled out on the lawn. Her skirt was torn up the middle; her lip and
cheek bloody.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Sarah
and Isaiah helped her up and put her into the back seat of Sarah’s car. “Let’s get her to the hospital,” Sarah said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Isaiah
took a slow deep breath and said, “That won’t be necessary.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Of
course it’s necessary,” Sarah scolded.
“Look at her. Who knows what else
they did to her.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
“Just
bring her to my apartment,” Isaiah said.
“I can fix her up.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Sarah objected, but
Isaiah finally persuaded her to do as he said.
All the way there, Chrystal mumbled Joe’s name and the words “stop…please
stop.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I’ll kill him!” Sarah
said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
As much as he understood
the feeling and wanted to hurt Joe himself, Isaiah asked, “And what would that
accomplish?” They put Chrystal’s arms
over their shoulders and helped her into Isaiah’s second story apartment. Once they lay her on the bed, he turned to
Sarah and asked, “Can you keep a secret?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Yeah, of course, why?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m serious,” he
said. “I know as a journalist it’s not
in your blood, but I need you to swear secrecy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Fine, I swear,” she said. “Off the record.” Sarah crossed her heart with her hand. As soon as she did, Isaiah removed his gloves
and touched Chrystal’s lip and cheek.
Both wounds healed immediately.
She couldn’t believe her eyes. As
she started to ask something, she looked up and noticed Isaiah was bleeding
from his lip and cheek. “Oh, my god!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Not even close, but
thanks for the compliment,” he said with a smile. Isaiah cleaned himself up in the bathroom,
returning with bandages over his lip and cheek.
“It’s the price I pay for the gift.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Suddenly, everything came
clear to Sarah. “The limp? You took her broken ankle?” He nodded.
“But your ankle’s fine now.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“It takes about three
days, minor wounds quicker, but I heal completely.” Sarah crumbled to the floor, her hand over
her lips. “It’s kind of like I’m a
hybrid of Wolverine and Rogue,” he said in an attempt to explain.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Who?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“You know…the X-men? One who takes the other person’s power and
one who heals quickly.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Sarah had no clue what he
was saying. She turned to face
Isaiah. His wounds were fresh. “Does it hurt?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“For a while,” he
said. He could see the wheels turning in
her head. “You promised.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“What? No…I won’t tell a soul.” She looked at his hands. He had put the gloves back on. “Why the gloves?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I can’t always control
the transfer,” he said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“The little girl?” she
asked, thinking of Chrystal’s tale the other day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Yeah, that really hurt.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Then Sarah returned to his
previous comment. “Transfer? What transfer?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Isaiah sat on the floor
next to her and leaned against the bed.
“I can take someone’s wounds, but I can also pass them on.” He held the gloves up and touched her
face. “Without these, you’d be sitting
here with a bloody lip and cheek.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Sarah suddenly had a disturbing
thought. “You mean we could go back to
the frat house and…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“No, Sarah. We can’t.”
He got up and stared out the window.
The thought had crossed his mind many times before. In fact he had given into the temptation once
long ago. So many others deserved the
pain even more than Joe did. But he had
promised his father. He would never
again use the gift for harm, only for good.
“There’s also a possibility I could transfer the gift by accident.” Isaiah had taken it as a curse. His father called it a gift and did his best
to convince Isaiah of that truth. His
mind returned to Sarah and her desire to inflict pain where pain was
given. “I can’t do that. Even if I could control it, I can’t play God
and exact judgment.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Well if anyone deserves
a little payback, it’s Joe Harrison.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m not going to argue
that point,” Isaiah said coldly. He turned
to face her. “It’s not my calling to
inflict the pain, just take it away.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“What a crappy gift,” she
said. “Sorry, that came out wrong.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“It’s okay.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I just meant it’s crappy
for you. Everyone else gets healed and
you have to suffer their pain. How long
does it last?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“About three days. I just told you that. Remember?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I’m sorry. This is a lot to digest in one day.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Believe me, I
understand. It took me a long time to
accept it and I live it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Sarah felt so badly for
him. “Were you kidding about your age?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Yes,” he said and
blushed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“So you’re not
forty-seven?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Right numbers, wrong order. I’m actually seventy-four years old.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“No way!” She laughed.
He didn’t. “Seriously?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Swear to God,” he said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“So why do you look so
young?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I stopped aging when I received
the gift. I didn’t even realize my
father had passed it on to me until shortly after my sixteenth birthday.” Isaiah stood and turned, displaying the
marvel of his ageless body. “I was helping
a friend who had fallen off of her bicycle when we both noticed the transfer of
her wound to my body.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Wow! Can you die?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I don’t know,” he said
with a chuckle. Of course his father
had, and he had the gift before Isaiah.
Then he added, “I’ve never tried.”
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
They both laughed at the ridiculousness
of it. How would you even investigate
that concept? Chrystal stirred and
mumbled something. Sarah got up to check
on her. “Hey, girl, I’m here.” As Chrystal opened her eyes, she could tell
she wasn’t in her own bed. She suddenly
panicked. Her mind was still
blurry. Although Isaiah had healed her
wounds, he had not cleared her intoxication.
Chrystal closed her eyes and drifted back asleep. Sarah crawled up next to her and gently
stroked her hair. Isaiah made himself a
pallet on the floor. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He woke to the sound of
running water. Sarah was cuddled next to
him on the floor and Chrystal was gone. <i>The shower.
That must be Chrystal in the shower.</i>
Isaiah eased Sarah’s arm from his stomach and set it on her hip. He rolled away and stood. <i>What
time is it?</i> He looked at the
clock. It was only seven in the
morning. He still had plenty of time to
make it to church.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Hey,” she said, coming
out of the bathroom wrapped loosely in a towel.
“You and Sarah getting cozy?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Sarah?” Isaiah looked back at the pallet. It did look as though they had slept
together. They probably had, but not the
way Chrystal was implying.
“Friends…we’re friends.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Since when?” Chrystal
asked, drying her hair with a small hand towel.
As she rubbed her hair with the small towel, the other began to loosen
from its wrap around her body. The slightly
larger towel barely covered her and was never meant to be a body wrap. Isaiah was afraid she might spill out and shyly
motioned for her to return to the bathroom.
He turned away. “There’s a robe
on the back of the door.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I know. I saw it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Please use it,” he
said. As soon as he turned back to see
if she had complied, she winked at him.
“Don’t worry, I won’t jump you,” she joked. By that time Sarah woke and was gathering her
things as well. “I don’t mean to be
rude,” Isaiah said, “but I would like to get ready for church.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Me too,” Sarah
said. “Don’t worry; we’ll be out of here
in a jiffy.” She leaned in and
whispered, “And your secret is safe with me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Thanks,” he whispered
back. He actually believed her. It had been a difficult burden to bear. The secret of his gift only served to
increase his loneliness.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
After church Isaiah grabbed
some drive-thru for lunch. He pulled
into the parking space designated for his apartment. He saw a woman sitting there and secretly
hoped it was Sarah; it wasn’t. He was
disappointed to discover it was Chrystal instead. “Now that I know where you live,” she
started, “we don’t have to be strangers.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>Great. Just what I wanted. </i>Isaiah
forced a smile and got out. “I don’t
know what you want from me, Chrystal, but I’m really not interested.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I just want the
truth.” She followed Isaiah up the steps
to his apartment. “Are you mad at me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Just disappointed.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“She didn’t seem to
care. Are you and Sarah in love?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He laughed out loud. “Wow. Is
that all you think about? Can’t a man
and a woman be friends without it having to be more?” Isaiah unlocked the door and walked
inside. Without being invited, Chrystal
followed. “Help yourself,” he said with
heavy sarcasm.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I know you don’t like
me,” she said. “You think I’m a drunken
whore, and Sarah’s a goody-goody church girl.”
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“She’s the first person
to befriend me in a long time,” he said, setting the bag on the table. “I don’t think you appreciate the value of
that.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Oh, I like Sarah, but
that’s not why I’m here.” Chrystal sat
at the table. “Why did you help me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“What do you mean?” he
asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She stood and reached for
his injured lip. Isaiah pulled
away. “I may have been drunk last night,
but I remember that.” She pointed to his
cheek. “That too.” Chrystal took her seat again at the table. “I don’t know how you do it, but you healed
my ankle, my head, the little girl’s arm, my lip and my cheek.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“That all sounds pretty
amazing,” he said, trying to laugh it off.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“It is,” she said. “I don’t care how you do it. All I want to know is why?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<i>Why not?</i> “That’s funny
because most people want to know how.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She smiled and stood,
pointing her finger in his face. “I knew
it!” She realized it sounded accusatory,
so she quickly apologized. She settled
down. “But why me?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
It was a good
question. He normally didn’t get
involved unless the person deserved a second chance. Did Chrystal deserve a second chance? “I don’t know,” he admitted. “You just looked like you needed help.” He looked up.
“You still do.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Still?” she asked. “I’m not hurting anywhere.” She looked over her body.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Of course you are,” he
said. He pointed to her heart. “But I can’t take that kind of pain from
you.” He had watched her for
months. He had wanted to help her, to
tell her she had value greater than her physical appearance…far greater than
her body. He wanted to sit her down and
help her see life as he did now. If he
could only give her that gift, it would all be worth the pain in the world. But he couldn’t. Whatever gift or curse he had been given many
years ago only healed physical wounds.
Emotional pain…spiritual pain…they were beyond his gift…beyond his
power.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
She began to cry. Before long her body was shaking with the
heavy sobs. “I’m so ashamed,” she
said. “I’m so sorry.” He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold
her tight, to assure her as a father would his own daughter that everything was
going to be okay. She needed to hear she
was loved as a person and not just a body, but she wasn’t ready to hear it from
him. It would only confuse her more. She still couldn’t separate the two. “I just wanted to belong…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Isaiah couldn’t stand it
any longer. “Chrystal, you do belong,
but not to that life...not to that group.”
He searched for the words that could make everything clear. He had never been good with words…especially
with women. “You’re more valuable and have
a much greater purpose in this life than…than…”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Than being a drunken
whore?” she asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I didn’t say that.” He knew he should have kept his mouth
shut. His life had been so much better
when he had learned to keep to himself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“You didn’t have to. It’s true.”
She wiped her nose with her sleeve.
“I’m the easy girl on campus, I know.
It’s just like Joe said, I’m ‘used merchandise.’”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“You don’t have to be,”
he said. “You have the power to change
all of that, and you’re the only one who can change it.” That’s what he had wanted to say. That’s what she needed to hear. She needed to stop being the victim and start
taking control of her own life. He
wanted to tell her about the pastor’s sermon this morning, the story in the
Bible about the woman caught in adultery.
She’d messed up. She’d chosen the
wrong kind of life, but she’d also been forgiven…she started over…she changed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Yeah, I’ve tried.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Then try again.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Why? No one would want me now anyway.” she said. “You don’t.”
Chrystal wiped her runny nose again.
“All I wanted to do was get out of that crappy little town and…I just
wanted to fit in. Is there anything
wrong with that?” She’d opened the door,
so he told her about the woman and about Jesus.
If Jesus could forgive that woman, He could forgive Chrystal. “That sounds a little too simple,” she said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Yeah, that’s the beauty
of it,” Isaiah began. “The forgiveness
is there; the love is there. All you
have to do is accept it.” He stopped
suddenly at the sound of screeching car tires and a loud thump. Isaiah and Chrystal both rushed out the door.
A woman with short brown hair lay face
down in the street down beneath his apartment.
The man shouting obscenities from his car, hitting his steering wheel
with his head, looked familiar. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Oh, no!” Chrystal
cried. “Sarah!” She ran down the steps and into the
street. “Sarah, are you okay? Please be okay.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I didn’t see her,” the
man said, stumbling out of his red Camaro.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Joe!” Chrystal knelt beside the limp body of her
friend. “How could you?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I can’t handle this,”
Joe said, stumbling back to his car. It
was obvious he was still drunk. He
slipped and fell to the pavement.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Don’t you dare run away,
Joe Harrison. For once in your miserable
life, stay and make this right!” she screamed.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Isaiah knelt beside Chrystal
and pulled the hair from Sarah’s face.
Blood began to puddle around her head.
She wasn’t breathing. “Sarah?” he
whispered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Oh, God, she can’t leave
me.” This time it wasn’t an
explicative…or a curse…or even a flippant word.
This time she was calling out. “Sarah,”
Chrystal cried. She looked up. “Not this; Not now, please.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Isaiah looked over at
Joe, who sat on the street, leaning back against his car. His hand reached up for the door handle, but
his body didn’t have the wherewithal to follow.
Isaiah wished so desperately it had been Joe lying here and not
Sarah. Isaiah dismissed the thought that
plagued him and resolved to do what he was gifted to do. “Chrystal, I want you to remember you have
value and purpose.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“What?” she asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I need you to remember
something.” He took his hand, grabbed
her chin and turned her head. “Look at
me!” She did. “When you lose perspective, think of
others. Love them more than you love
yourself. And please, love yourself too.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“What are you saying?”
Chrystal said. “Sarah’s dying; help
her.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“I will, but first I need
you to promise you’ll remember what I said.”
She nodded. “Okay, take Sarah’s
hand,” he said as he pulled the gloves from his hands. Chrystal slid to the side and made room for
Isaiah. He put one hand on Sarah’s forehead
and the other on Chrystal’s hand. “You
may feel strange for the next day or so, but don’t worry.” <i>Oh,
God, please let this work. </i>He took a
deep breath and let it out slowly. As he
did, his head began to bleed and his body slumped over Sarah’s.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Sarah suddenly gasped for
air. Pushing herself from the pavement,
she rolled the limp lifeless body from her back. As soon as she saw the blood seeping from Isaiah’s
cracked skull, she cried, “No!” But it
was too late. His body lay still beside
her. She took his hands and put them up
to her face. She pleaded with him to
come back to her. She touched his wounds
and prayed that she could take his pain.
But it was futile. Isaiah
Carpenter died in the middle of the street.
He gave more than one gift that day.
It’s hard to say which was greater.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Chrystal knelt beside her
best friend who was dead but now alive, and she finally understood why the
strange boy had come into their lives.
He came to teach and to heal. He
came to give hope and to give life…even if it cost his. And at that moment, Chrystal understood her
newly found purpose. She felt surprisingly
alive and strangely powerful. She pulled
Sarah close to her chest and held her tight.
“It’s okay, Sarah. It’s going to
be okay.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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