Nothing of Love Continued-By Elsie Heberling

Chapter One-Part Two

Phillip was a little awed and with the visitor, but answered, "Thank you, sir, won't you sit down?" Bishop Bosworth sat down in the pew, speaking at once.

"I'll come right to the point, Phillip, and save time for both of us. To start with, I have been hearing  of you for a long time through your minister, and was invited here today to hear for myself, and as I said I am deeply impressed with what I have heard." He spoke rapidly without waiting for a response from Phillip.

"Half the young men who have been ordained have not interpreted the gospel as well as you have done today."

Phillip was embarrassed, but managed to say "Thank you, sir, but I think you are overrating me."

"Not at all, my boy, and now I would like your consent to attend theology school for one year, and I will ordain you to a full fledged minister." This was a new approach to Philip, and a small feeling of resentment rose in him.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I must decline that offer. I think I made that clear to Reverend Richardson some time ago."

"You would not take time to consider it?"

"No, sir."

"I'm sorry, Phillip, because I am sincere when I tell you, the world will be losing something very important if you refuse."

"Then I am sorry, sir, to inflict on the world such a great loss." Phillip was amused and this was accompanied by a laugh, but he sobered instantly, and continued to speak more earnestly. "But I prefer not to consider it. If it will help, I promise to keep up my work here as usual, but I am deeply grateful, and humbled with your estimate of me, and I thank you."

Bishop Bosworth slowly got to his feet, speaking very quietly. "I'm greatly disappointed with your decision, but if you should ever change your mind..." He left the sentence unfinished as he held out his hand to the young man. 

Nothing more was spoken between them and the bishop departed the church, leaving Philip standing alone, with his thoughts on a blue-eyed, brown-haired girl. He smiled to himself, wondering, was she visiting here, or had her family moved into the town as permanent residents? He hoped it was the latter. He wanted to see her again.

Entering his home a short time later, he found his mother busy preparing the special noonday dinner they always enjoyed on Sunday. He spoke at once to her.

"Did you notice the strange man in church this morning?"

This was a small town church, therefore everyone knew everyone else, and a stranger was quickly observed. His mothers' hands were busy as she replied, "No outsider except Bishop Bosworth, who is not exactly a stranger."

"Oh, you knew he was there?"

"Yes, Philip, I knew two days ago he would be here."

"And you never told me."

Nelda DuFrow turned then, and looked at her son. 

"No, because I was asked not to do so. Rev. Richardson thought it best that you didn't know, in order not to embarrass you."

"How do you think I felt when he introduced himself to me?"

"You talked to him then."

"Yes, and I don't mind telling you, I didn't appreciate the arrangement. And I'll tell you once again, mother, I am not going to enter the ministry."

Phillip DuFrow felt that to be his final word on the subject, and turned to leave, then turned back to question.

"Do you know of any new families who have moved to town recently?"

Nelda DuFrow thought a moment, "I believe Edith Graham told me a family moved into the vacant Gross home down the street--an Irish family, I've forgotten the name."

"Would it be Kenwick?"

"It could be, I've forgotten."

Phillip turned to leave again, and his mother said "Don't go away, your dinner will be ready in a few minutes."

Nothing of Love-By Elsie M. Heberling

Chapter One-Part One

The young girls' eyes never wavered from the young man standing behind the pulpit. She really was not conscious of what he was saying. It was his handsome, earnest face that attracted and held her interest. It was a young face, and his voice throbbed with the intensity of his words, spoken with the idealism of, as yet, his limited contact with the harsh outside world. 

Phillip DuFrow was not an ordained minister of the gospel, being a lay speaker, as such a one is designated in some churches.

He had been a member of this congregation since his early childhood, being of a religious nature, inherited and taught by his parents. The Reverend Richardson was deeply impressed with Phillip since he first knew him, and had urged him the parents to allow him to study for the ministry. But the young man himself had declined, very firmly, this honor. The good man was disappointed, but did not entirely give up.

A year before, he had said to Phillip, "You see, my boy, I know good material when I see it, so I am going to ask you to help me. On next Sunday, I must be away, and I am asking you to take over for me."

"Oh, no, sir! Not me!"

"Yes, Phillip, as a very special favor to me."

"But sir, I couldn't do it!"

"Of course you can. I have watched you closely, teaching your class of young me, and if I did not know you were capable, I wouldn't have asked you."

It was then that Phillip DuFrow had consented, doing such an a outstanding work, that he had been returned several times to fill in for the Reverend Richardson.

On this particular day, the bishop of the church had been invited to hear the young lay preacher, all unknown to Phillip. Never having met Bishop Bosworth, he did not recognize him in the congregation. The service was over now, and Phillip walked to the the open doorway to greet the parishioners as they left for home.

The long line of his friends and neighbors who cordially took his outstretched hand, was almost gone, when he found himself looking into a pair of soft blue eyes shining from a pretty face, a wealth of light brown curls drawn to the back of her head and tied with a bright blue ribbon. 

A shy smile curved her lips as he took her hand in his own, saying "I believe you are a newcomer here."

"Yes sir, my name is Maggie Kenwick."

"I'm glad you came, Maggie." He released her hand and she passed on through the open door.

The very last one in the line was a man who was unknown to Phillip, but his warm handclasp and friendly manner at once gave him a renewed confidence in himself.

"I want to offer my congratulations to you for the splendid piece of work you have done, and if you have the time, I would like to talk to you." The older man, seeing the puzzled look on the younger ones' face, quickly introduced himself. "I am Bishop Bosworth, and am impressed with what you have done today."

Storms- by Susan Thomas

Sometimes in life you find yourself emerging from one of life's many hurdles only to look back and realize you shouldn't be alive.  When it dawns on you that you battled death and won it hits you like a ton of bricks. My life didn't flash before my eyes. I had been so busy fighting I never noticed just how close to death's sweet embrace I really was.

That night was like any other night. It had been a long night and I still had a lot of homework to do. I really wanted to sleep,but the stack of homework in front of me reminded me that I would be up till the wee hours of the morning. I took a sigh and grabbed my math book and started to study for my math test in the morning.
I really needed to concentrate, but my mind wandered to everything but the math book in front of me. I mauled over my rooms decor. It was a pastel pink. A color I chose when I was six and because of that I plastered most of the room in posters to cover the color I could no longer stand.  I had a large wooden dresser with a large mirror attached. It had once been a beautiful oak, but I had broken out my paints and turned my dresser into one big painting.  My carpet had once been white, but was now so stained it looked more like a beige with some colorful spots.
My mind became fixated on the storm outside. Every few minutes I would see a flash of lightning outside my window and a large crack of thunder would follow. I could hear the wind howling and the rain pounding on the roof. I loved storms and being surrounded by the sound of it left me in a sweet bliss.

Against my better judgement I decided to run outside and really be surrounded by the storm. To not only be able to hear and see it, but to be able to feel and smell it as well. It only took me a few seconds to run down the stairs that lead to the first floor and to the front door. I heard my mother screaming for me to get back inside, but I ignored her. I just had to listen to the urge inside of me that wanted to be a part of the storm.
I ran so long and hard I found myself running in the park several blocks from my house. The park was empty except for me running around the fields and playground equipment. I hopped onto swings and did flips off the  slide.  I began to run in the field again when I was interrupted by a  strange sensation. I loved the feeling of the pouring rain pelting my skin and the water soaking through all my clothes.  The hairs in my arms began to stand up and it almost felt like my body was humming.  I then felt a painful sensation strike me in between my shoulder blade and neck and run down through my body. I fell instantly to the ground.  As I hit the ground lightening strike after strike began to pound into my body. It felt as if my body was going to catch fire. I began to scream in agony. My mind was consumed with the pain and I could think of nothing else.
I felt myself standing up and trying to run from the lightening, but the lightening continued to hit its target. The rain was of little comfort now. The rain only seemed to increase the pain of the lightening coursing through my body.Suddenly the lightening stopped and I looked down and saw my body was wrapped in electricity and lightening. I suddenly felt this sensation like my skin was being ripped off my body and I saw the electricity from my body shooting out in all directions. I just screamed as this electricity shot through my body. The wind and rain pelted my face making it harder for me to scream.
The trees, flowers, grass, and park benches that were struck all caught on fire. The fire grew bigger as it began to sweep the whole park and to slowly spread to houses a short distance away. I just continued to scream and to hope that it would all end soon.
When it finally stopped I realized I was surrounded by flames and had to find my way through them. I decided to just run for it and hope for the best. As my skin began to lick the flames a shield of electricity wrapped it's way around me protecting me from the flames. I reached the other side unscathed.I looked up and saw that the fire that started from my pain had spread to houses and begun to consume them. I noticed that houses lights were flickering in an odd way.
 On the walk home I felt full of energy. I knew according to medical shows that I should be in bad shape, but I found myself feeling better than ever.  I felt stronger and capable of anything. I never noticed that the houses were without power because as I walked by they would light up again only to have the lights fade as I walked away.
When I got home my mother sent me to my room without dinner. I did as I was told without argument and was in to much shock to say anything to her. I just stomped up the stairs soaking wet and a little soar. I left a trail of water going up the stairs.  I just sat back down and began my homework again wet clothes and all. Right where I had left off. My math homework. Strangely, I found it easy. As if I'd always known the answers all along.
I looked out the window and that's when I realized my room was the only room with power in the entire neighborhood. I couldn't fathom what happened to me. All I knew was I had emerged different and alive. I had faced death and won.

What this Blog is.

I'm an aspiring novelist. Which means I'm a writer that would love to be published one day, but I know that I have a lot of work to do. As someone who mainly focuses on my novels any short stories or poetry usually gets pushed to the side and forgotten about. So this site is dedicated to those bits of fiction I come up with when I'm taking a break from my novel.
At times I get this awesome idea for a short story, write it, perfect it, and toss it in a drawer somewhere. Same for my poetry. I figured why not share it on a blog. This way I can receive feedback from all of you on where you think my writing could use improvement. There's nothing that you can say to me that I probably haven't thought already, but I appreciate fresh points of view. I would appreciate harsh criticism. I highly doubt anyone is harsher than myself.
With that said I'll tell you what I tend to write. When I write poetry it's usually because I'm caught up in some emotion. So if I was really inspired by a song at church you may get a really spiritual poem. On the other hand there are times I write poetry in anger and those usually involve blood. My short stories vary. Most of my short stories will have an obvious christian message, but there will be times I need to just have fun. Those times you might read some fantasy or if I'm a tad annoyed some horror.
I would also like to mention that I had a relative who wrote a lot of short stories that were never really published. I'll be posting her stuff as well. If I'm focusing on my novel I'll post one of her stories for all of you to read. I haven't read all of them so many of them I'll be reading as I post.
I hope you all enjoy my future posts and I hope I can post something for you real soon!