The Bluestone Review 2020

The Bluestone Review 2020

Prose

“God, she’s only six years old. Please,” I whispered. I knew that I should say something to encourage her, but I couldn’t find the words. Finally, I took her small hand in mine and said, “It’s okay, baby. God is with us, and we just have to trust that this is His plan. No matter what the results are, He knows best.” “Are you sure, Mama?” She looked up at me with her beautiful brown eyes. “Yes, sweetheart. I’m positive,” I smiled and hugged her. She didn’t say anything at all for a moment. Then, I watched as she hopped off the bed, got down on her knees, and closed her eyes. “God, cancer is scary. My mommy says that you always know best. So, I trust you. I trust that you exist, and that you love me. I know you are going to be here for me, cancer or no cancer, because you sent your son to die for me. I’m sorry for all my sins, and I know that you will forgive me. Lord, I give you my life. Please, make me and Mommy strong enough to fight cancer and help us remem- ber this is your plan.” I was speechless as she got up off her knees and pulled herself onto my lap. Now, I was the one who was crying because my own daughter had just been saved right before my eyes. I wrapped my arms around her tightly, and I asked her where she had gotten that idea. “I heard it in church, and I’ve thought about it for a while. I just wanted God’s salvation.” “I’m so proud of you!” I said as I held her tighter. That’s when the door swung open, and the doctor walked in. We took a breath and nodded. We had found a new hope, and I knew that we could do this. The doctor smiled and said, “I just looked over your results. You can dry those tears now because you are going to be just fine. There’s not one sign of cancer!” As I carried my daughter out of the hospital doors, she looked up at me and said, “Salvation and prayer change things, Mama.” “Yes, baby girl, they do!” Boredom By Brent Shelton In the silence, I wait. In anticipation, I watch. I can hear his footsteps. His heavy breathing crescendos as I brace myself for his arrival. “Today will be different,” I think to myself. “Today, I will overcome him.” Boredom bursts into the room. With violent force, he grabs hold of me. My energy is drained as I stare into the abyss that is his countenance. I try to shake him off, but his grip is too secure. I kick and flail about in futility. I question him. “Why are you here? Why do you always stalk me? What do you want from me?” He answers with silence, leaning forward as if to consume me. My determination atrophies. I am weak. My consciousness fades. I accept my fate.

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