Lost Ones: A Short Short Story

It’s been a long road since the day it happened. Glass was shattered but lives were spared that night. Lips were red from blood shed at the time of impact. Smiles were upside down and eyes were filled with tears. Our fears were exposed as we lay emotionally bare at the steps of an old abandoned church.  No one would speak and all that was heard amongst the silence were sobs and screams. Some were crying out for God and others were crying for their loved ones that were lost. We didn’t know who to blame. The lame made excuses that they weren’t qualified to spread the news. The students claimed they were too busy studying to get the word out. The teachers expressed that they were occupied trying to make sure that all of the children were taken care of and properly prepared for their exams. The pastors, deacons, elders, and leaders claimed that they spread the word as effectively as possible but the traditions and religious practices held them back from reaching those of the new generation. The parents claimed that they were too busy working jobs so that their families were well taken care of. Nobody knew who to blame, so they blamed everyone else.

Young adults of a generation unreached by the good news of a Savior. As a result, their lives were taken and they had no knowledge of redemption. A young girl with skin dark and soft, Hair dark and coarse, voice sweet and strong; stood nearby as a spectator of it all. She knew all of these people that sat in mourning. She watched as they lived their troubled, busy lives.

Nothing satisfied the greedy and the needy remained without resources. All the while she watched, she thought and she wrote but her words never reached the masses. She lost her voice at an early age and struggled to find it once she matured into the teacher that she was created to be. Often times she’d have an urge to share a message and instead she’d shy away and keep it to herself. Her excuse was that she was afraid of perception and rejection; she was afraid that no one would listen to anything that she had to say. As she stood looking at those lost lives that never heard  the message she was sent to deliver; she wondered if her excuses were good enough.

–I wrote this years ago. I remember writing it and wondering where it came from. It was almost as if my spirit had written it for me. I don’t want to sound spooky, but I’m sure that this is a story from the future. A picture of what would/could happen if this young qualified voice held her tongue because she was afraid of perception and rejection. As I learn more about myself, I know that I was created to do amazing things, deliver messages that are necessary and very specific. I know that I could cause a generation to fail and fall into hell if those messages stay within me, never to be heard by those that need it. I can’t let that happen. I won’t let it happen.

Will you? 

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About me

Ifie Natasha

Ifie Natasha is a writer, artreprenuer and soul care enthusiast with a passion for telling stories, building communities and exploring creativity.

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