Writing Challenge #16

Part 1: Find or create a picture or photo related to your topic and put it in the Photos Section of your blog.


Part 2: You must write 4 paragraphs! Short, long, or dialog. You decide!


Part 3: You must select from one of these 4 phrases:


1. Not such a bad place to be in 20 years.

2. How could this be happening now?

3. He twirled the knife over and over in his fingers.

4. Undecided on the existence of a God, any God, I walked into the ceremonial hall...

The hours in a hospital waiting room seemed longer than what I had been used to. Minutes seemed like hours, hours seemed like days and the days… Days seemed like a life- time of waiting. A life-time of not knowing, of wondering, of watching myself crumble to pieces and emerging back to life, only to fall apart again. I found myself begging for an answer, and, in shame, even begging for any kind of answer. This whirlpool of uncertainty and pain was dragging me into the kind of hell no-one could drag me out of.

When the doctor came out of the elevator, I spotted him from a distance and through maybe 10 other doctors. I knew what he was going to say and I could feel the hollowness in my chest even while he was walking outside to find my dad. I stayed inside but still heard my mother’s cry from the hospital back yard. I saw my dad walk in trembling and get into the elevator with the doctor. He looked at me straight in the eye but said or signaled nothing. He didn’t need to, because I knew.

When they brought him at the house, it all seemed surreal. I was squeezing my brain to understand the “how’s” and the “why’s” but it all seemed surreal. It was him, but it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. I couldn’t bring myself to touch him. I stayed up all night, sitting beside him, knowing that it was the last time I would see him. I caressed him with my eyes all night long, singing him farewell songs under my breath. I couldn’t cry. My need to see him off before falling apart was far too great.

Why would a child be brought to Earth when he wasn’t meant to live on it? What was the use for all this pain? What loving Father would let their children’s lives be torn to pieces with a single wave of His hand? My heart was shredded, my body was bruised, my faith was leaking from me. I had nothing left. When they moved him for the funeral, I was an empty vessel. Undecided on the existence of a God, any God, I walked into the ceremonial hall for his funeral...