Fifteen Minutes Of Fiction Writing Gallery

The Oath: A Prose
Posted by Lyz, Dec 25, 2009. 1008 views. ID = 3061

The Oath

Posted by Lyz, Dec 25, 2009. 1008 views. ID = 3061
This post was written in 20 minutes.
I suppose this is an analogy for how I was Saved. How I thought and how I felt at the time (Mud Girl) and how I lived up to my name. :)
This post has been awarded 8 stars by 2 readers.

The mud and the mire was everywhere. She could barely see through her very own eyes. It clung onto her like some sort of oozing body suit. Her name did not matter here. She was nothing... nobody. She sat at night in the darkness, coldness. There was no peace for nobodies. They were to simply lay in their puddles of filtyness. She would sit there, never sleeping, just sobbing. She was skin and bones. There was no satisfying nobodies. She could have eaten every single thing, and it would not fill her appitite. She was filth. Worse than filth. She sat there one espically hot day and saw the strangest sight of all. There was a man, shouldering a large tree like structure on his own bare shoulders. It looked terriably heavy. Behind him were girls, dressed in pure white robes. There faces were porcelin white with cleanliness. Then there were men, also dressed in white. They were happy. Whole. She trembled at her own inferiority.
"Scum, nothingness, a moldy spore on civilization I am" she thought torturisly in her very own head. It was then that the man carrying the cross stopped. He called a tall, graceful looking girl over by his side. He began to whisper softly in her ear. The girl looked up with shining blue eyes. This girl seemed so peaceful, she almost floated as she slowly walked over to Her. She flinched and tembled, turning her back away. The slime. The mud! These people... she mustn't give in. Shye was worth nothing. Why did they want her? The girl coaxed her gently. Everyday the parade of white clothed people came by. Eventually She beagan to talk to them. They were kind. They did not judge her, only offered kindness, tolerance. Finally the girl began to speak. She told the greatest story ever known. Of how the man's Father was a King of Kings, but so loving he sent his son to the world, covered in mud and filth. The Son lived among the filth, died on the tree he carried and then rose again miracoulsy. She was astounded. Then the miracle happened. She turned to the man. For the first time She spoke. "Please?" she questioned the man. Never had anything meant so much to her. No even when she had first enjoyed the filth that now covered her from head to toes. The man smiled. And then did something strangly amazing. He huged her. He loved her. He gave her value, though she didn't deserve it. He gave her meaning, even though she didn't earn it. She was forgiven. He scooped off the mud and underneath was a white robe. Pristine and white as snowflakes.
"You are mine... I promise," the Man spoke. "Call me Father." Then he gave her a name: Elisheva.

Copyright 2009 Lyz. All rights reserved. has been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work. For permission to reprint this item, please contact the author.

You must be logged in to comment on or rate this writing.

Click here to join the Fifteen Minutes Of Fiction Writing Community!

This post has been awarded 8 stars by 2 readers.

Search for Great Fiction

Use the google search bar below to find writings exclusively on this site.

Custom Search

News!    Writing Prompt    My Assignment    FAQ    Contact    Privacy Policy    Search     Terms of Use     Login