faceless friend

Shadows haunted the room, lit by a low fire. A small shower of sparks jumped as a log fell. She was seated in the corner of the room, the floor was concrete, and cold. She rose, leaning heavily on the wall as her numbed ankle began to warm a little. Walking with a slight limp she reached the fire and extended her hands to the flames in the expectancy of warmth. Drawing back in surprise from the artic flames her head spun, uncomprehending of the oddity and begging the comfort of a hot fire. Seating herself back in the corner of the room she took in her surroundings, her prison walls were all doors un-yet all of them had multiple locks and bolts. All were scrawled with words, some ledgable, some even in different languages. Profanities that shocked her drew her eyes to hover upon the letters. Fascinating by how they got there, or who had done it all, her attention absourbed by them. And though the doors and writings were many soon the going became boring and giving up she went again to the fire. Reaching her hand in the flames she was greeted only by something much like a soft cloth gentley brushing her palm and fingers, a strange sensation began to creep up her hand and through her wrist this inner coolness that made her shiver and mesmerized her to the now darkening to blue flames. Something inside of her wrenched and tore unyet her eyes were locked into depths of the ashes her mind numbing at lightening pace. Sudden warmth on her back dragged her back from the cliff of black that she was reaching. Warmth enveloped her tearing her from the fire and shielding her eyes from the blue glare that then settled away again to the elusive orange flickering flames. Turning she found nothing visable, though the curtain of heat warmed her cheeks and lit her dulled eyes. Tucked within the warmth she sat and resolved herself to day dreaming. A young boy stood by the fire, back to her. She called out and though there was no sound the boy the turned. His height, build and clothing were that of a four year old, and his hair was a tousled brown. With a jerk she realized that though the upturned face was beautiful and she could picture deep brown eyes in it, that was all she was doing. The face held no mouth, nose or deep brown eyes. He slowly lifted a hand and pointed to a clean door, one she hadn't noticed before, it was without writing and though white, quite narrow. Then holding his hand out to her, she took it and he lead her to the narrow opening. In his small hand was an even smaller brass key, and unlocking it he held it open. Doubt crept through her heart and the door became even smaller. The little boy slipped through easily, tugging at her hand, and her heart as she became more and more fond him. Turmoil rained, would she rather dwell in the suddenly cold room again or follow this little guardian whose non-existent mouth laughed and smiled happyily and venture into the unknown. Finally she stepped through, the door remained open, there was escape she thought in relief as she followed her faceless friend. They passed through beautiful fields of lush grass, tall willowy trees, and daisies that bobbed on the wind. Seated under a tree the swooped steeply down, they rested from their journey. She rose and left the sleeping boy to walk to the river. Dipping a strong leaf into the water she scooped soon out and drank greedily, letting it dribble down her chin. Filling it again she returned to the boy and gently waking him gave him the water, mouth or no. Walking together they left the river and soon the grass on either side withered to pathetic clumbs of short croped, sunburned blobs and the trees were choked out by ugly black vines while tall weeds cropped up around the daisies. The soft turf path turned to sharp edged rocks and she thought of turning back. The pretty boy pulled her hand and on she stumbled. Thirst scorched through her throat and no matter where they looked there was no water. Mumbling through swollen lips she thought over all she had done and quickly became bitter for entrusting herself in a small boy's hands. Tearing her hand from the little boy's she stumbled backwards away from him and fell. The boy's tears though silent called to her like an accusing crow's voice. Battle of self preservation and love raged as she lay limp, gathering herself off the ground she went to him and embraced him and let him lead her on. The thirst burned in her throat but yet she still followed him until she stumbled, fell, and could not rise again. She set herself to die in the dry place wishing tears to fall, unyet none came. The small boy knelt and laying a soft kiss on her cheek he stood and walked into the distance quickly disppearing from her swaying vision. Closing her eyes she rested her head on a patch of dry grass. A deep strong voice filled her ears after so many seasons of silence "Well done my child."



Matt 10:42
"And if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones because he is my disciple, I tell you the truth, he will certainly not lose his reward."

Mark 9:41
"I tell you the truth, anyone who gives you a cup of water in my name because you belong to Christ will certainly not lose his reward."