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Clash of the Worlds: Chapter Twenty-two

From Ohio, God brought me out of my old life (a wilderness without Jesus) and round about my transient life He brought me to Bible college.

clash-of-the-worlds-lost-but-not-forgotten

Continued from In the Face of Danger



".... Some trust in chariots (the material things of this mortal world, the lottery, that Bingo game, company sports' pools, or taking big from that 'one-armed bandit' in some casino), but we (those of Elohim 's Kingdom through their faith in Jesus) trust in the name of the LORD...."


Alex Takes a Risk

The "talk of the town," especially in the break room this day, where Alex and his friends were gathered, for a deserved morning break, was this evening's Power ball drawing worth one hundred twenty-five million dollars.

"Whew," declared one. "How can one imagine that much money?"

"How much did you invest in it, Alex?" asked a friend.

Invest? Another one thought, he probably knows the fallacy of such "investments." A better word for it would probably be a gamble – that chance taking – for that's what such is with that slim chance of winning big, about as slim as the amount of that Power ball – 1 in 145,000,000.

"I'll just say a bundle," Alex answered. "I mean I had it to spend, so why not at least try?"

"A bundle, uh. But how much of a bundle?" his friend asked.

"Hey, I said 'a bundle.' Let it go at that," Alex answered. "Imagine what I could do with all those millions with such a chance to win those big bucks that Power ball is offering now. I can quit this job and live one 'easy street' the rest of my life, not having to work. I think my time has finally come," Alex bragged.

"Yes, just imagine," replied another friend, sarcastically. "You have to have a pretty big imagination to imagine you're a winner. It's dreaming, I think – wishful thinking."

"Well, I like to dream, a way of escaping this old world. We have to at times, or else we just may go crazy, if we're not there all ready. Dreaming, or ‘wishful thinking,' as you say, maybe one way of doing just that, and one day my dream of winning those big bucks just may come true," Alex went on, continuing his bragging ways.

"Did you buy any tickets?" he then asked, after a brief pause.

"Just one, but that's all the wife wanted to risk, what with another baby on the way...."

"One," Alex laughed. "You'll never get rich that way. A big pot like what the Lottery has now, and you buy just one ticket...."

"That's right. Yet, considering the risk, perhaps I have as good a chance of winning with my one ticket as you do with your bundle, and I'm not any poorer even if I don't win."

"And probably you won't win with just that one ticket," Alex laughed. "But just think if you should win."

"That's a mighty big if, Alex."

"That if looms even bigger with only one ticket."

The Risk Result

At long last, the hour for the Power Ball drawing had arrived. The lateness of the hour drew a deep yawn from Alex. Alone in his apartment, he sat with fingers crossed in front of the TV: all his tickets spread out on the dining table across the room.

With pen and pad in hand, he waited for the numbers. Then, it came. The announcer read each number slowly. Alex repeated after him, jotting down each number as he heard it called out.

He then examined each ticket on the table, hoping with that unsure hope. Ah-h, thinking he saw one ticket that had it all, he looked closely, again and again, not believing what he saw.

Suddenly, in anger and cursing, with one sweep of the hand, everything flew off the table; he had missed the big bucks by one number. His hopes were dashed.

He lost. He had lost in gambles before, but this was the big one. How was he going to face his buddies at work? For sure he would be a laughing stock, having invested that bundle.

Would he go to work the next workday, or would it be better to call in sick? His hopes and dreams shattered, he suddenly felt ill. But perhaps a drink or two before bed would be the cure.

Soberly he sat, still raging inside, gulping down one swallow after another. Becoming well intoxicated, he managed somehow to make it to his bedroom, where he crashed for the night.

---


Streaming Tears

"No-oo!" Thomas-John screamed hysterically running across that vacant lot toward Jessi's bloody body, tears streaming down his face. Her attacker still stood nearby, panting, as to catch his breath. The light rain fell upon his figure, silhouetted by a distant lone streetlight.

Arriving where his girl was lying, Thomas-John fell down at her side. Taking her in his arms, he cried mournfully, "Jessi, oh my Jessi, why did I ever let you go alone!" Her tattered and torn clothing gave an indication that she had put up a fight, trying to ward off the one harming her, but he was just too strong.

Watching Thomas-John there on the ground with Jessi, in a gruff, hissing voice, the attacker hissed, "I told you I would have her, and I did."

At that moment, a bright glow rose from Jessi's body. Thomas-John relaxed his grasp on her. Leaning backward, he glanced upward toward the heavens, tears streamed down his face.

"What are you doing?" the attacker asked in that gruff, hissing voice, observing Thomas-John's gaze toward the sky.

Then, still holding Jessi, as he sat there on the ground, Thomas-John screamed at the attacker, his face wet with tears and the falling rain. "No, you don't have her! You never did have her!" Anger so burned within him, but he had no desire to go after the attacker just then. "Now, leave us alone!" he yelled at the man, as his only desire, for now, was a quiet last moment with his Jessi.

A dark shadow crept over that man, now running as fast as he could away from there, seemingly dematerializing through the air in his leaving.

Thomas-John sat there, not knowing for how long, clutching Jessi tightly in his arms, tears falling from his eyes, as was the rain from the heavens. Even now she was still in his protective care.


End of Part One

Go to Part Two: Chapter 23

Or begin again at Premier Episode: Preface and Prologue

© 2018 Charles O Newcombe