Peace

The dismal lighting created a depressing aura. Cobwebs drooped low about the corners of the room. Dust, thick as the field outside the kitchen window, had gathered over the years on the panes which made it difficult to see the weeds and tall grass. Years of neglect and abandonment had taken their toll on this forgotten place. Sophia was determined to find peace amidst the broken hallows of her own, old forgotten home.

Painfully, she caressed the hallways. The solemn paces of concern and tenderness, whilst she leaned dependently on her cane. Each step leaving its own print on the life that once was. Imprints left on the soil covered floors, with each step as she navigated the hallway to visit each room … one at a time.

Floods of memories returned to her already overwhelmed mind. Tears, like waterfalls, exited her eyes as the emotions of times past surged completely and intricately throughout her body. Muscles tensed. Musical dirges and melodies played within her ears. Smells of once loved family meals accentuated her nasal cavity from the dusty and stench odors of the present to times long forgotten of love and the deliciousness of family.

Each room held a specific memory of days long before the horrific tragedies that plagued her mind. Times before the occupation take over. As she entered the den, there stood a dilapidated oak desk immersed in six inches, at least, of time and destruction. A desk at which she had spent numerous hours of creative genius authorship. In her glory days, the worn oak desk aided in the creative accolades and accomplishments of a now outlawed author of hope and faith. A time in which the peoples of the time welcomed anything that would help them see past the dark and gloomy status of the world. A time when the sun shone bright and people even brighter…thanks to the works of Sophia and others.

Beyond the den were several bedrooms, a bath, and a sitting room. Within the sitting room was the Victorian chair and table set that she had been awarded as a distinguished leader of a better life through Love and Truth. A society that once flourished. A society that most have been executed for their damning speech by the authoritarian party. Only Sophia and Mark … Oh Mark … a beautifully soft spirit and loving gentleman to the end. Once a hardened tyrant, now a determined and persuasive disciple of the Truth that has been hidden in the wreckage of evil. Sophia’s memories drifted to her first and last encounters with Mark. If only she knew where he was … they could once again be the powerhouse of old.

Working her way through the sitting room to the back wall, Sophia noticed that the only book left on shelf was the trigger to happiness. A plain bound, no title book of wonders. It was indeed her favorite book of all time. Stories of adventure. Stories of hope. Stories of great accomplishments. Stories of faith.

Reaching for the book, her heart fluttered in anticipation. She was going to feel as she once did, before the occupation. All the past, since the darkness came, would fade away. She needed to just open this book and see the pages come to life. With overwhelming anticipation,  she opened it…the pages were empty. Why were the pages blank? She knew this book. She had read this book many times over. How on earth were the pages bare? Her heart sank. A coldness consumed her. It was all a dream. She had dreamt the book was for real. She dreamt of its comfort.

As she stood in the sitting room, the memories of the her past began to flood her mind. The Christmases. They read the book. The family get togethers. They read the book. The quiet nights with her husband. They read the book. Warmth and soothing began to make ground in the chill of the air. She opened the book again…yet the pages were bare. She did not understand.

With a deep and settling breath, she retreated into her mind. She could hear children running through the hallways. Laughter echoed off the walls. The stories these walls could tell if they could talk. Facing the fireplace, she recalled a very intimate time … reading the book. The love and cherished moments of family and togetherness rose from the pages of the book. Her mind was fixed on the preponderance of why the pages were no longer filled with the joyous inclusion of love, peace, and faith; and to the notion of how they were now completely void of any writings.

The occupation was gradual. Precision moves were conducted by the leaders of the ‘movement.’ The moves were so slight that anyone who dared to challenge was condemned for hate mongering. Over the course of about a decade, the thoughts of the movement were concluded as valid and included in all of the workings of business, education, and of course … government. New mandates of gradual inclusion of change for the betterment of society; seemingly innocent and non-threatening to the existing way of life. At first the punishment for failure to comply were shunning’s and boycotts. When that did not assist in the movement as planned, fines and forfeitures began. As time progressed, more were standing up to the movement, causing the eventual occupation to ‘their’ way or the jail way concentration type camps for re-education were enforced.

In the beginning, they would try to maintain a stronghold for the truth in the middle of the evil, however, it became apparent that their ideology was no longer acceptable, and they must retreat to safer ground. A place where freedom was true freedom, and they could stand together as one.

The faithful and strong retreated to hideaways and group camps to provide a safe haven for themselves. Entering the occupied territory became an only as needed and extreme. Cautious measures were taken to prevent anyone from noticing. Rural wooded areas were where most took up residence, living off the land and fortifying their presence. All were welcome to join them, to escape the occupation. Unfortunately, their presence was a disturbance to the occupation, that infiltrators were sent in and many times they would be compromised. A group that started in the thousands, has now dwindled to barely two hundred in Sophia’s group.

As one of the founding members of their local group, Sophia had been extremely vocal and strong. Once athletic enough to give the occupation’s patrols a run for their money, now she is but a crippled woman with a cane caused from a very zealous occupation patrolman who did not like her jacket.

Those who lived within the occupied territories were mandated to a certain color scheme to maintain a peaceful existence and not to cause anyone to feel stressed. The idea was to make everyone be the same and feel included. Anyone who stepped outside the boundaries of the day to feel like an individual was punished. The day that Sophia was stopped by a patrolman was a pale blue and white day, however she chose to accentuate her outfit with a yellow rose on her darker than pale blue jacket. These were two extremely high offenses in the new order of things and this particular patrolman was not having it. His corrective techniques left her needing a cane for the rest of her life.

Night was falling. Though it was late autumn, the temperatures were wonderful and just right for sleeping. Sophia made her way to one of the bedrooms and found a mattress still intact. Dirty…yes, but that did not matter. A mattress was just what the doctor ordered. Carefully and slowly she sat down on the mattress, so as not to make a sound from the springs of the bed. She was fairly certain that she was alone, however, caution had taken over impulse. A faint smell of home raised from the cotton top, the warmth of the love from the past consumed her as she fell into a peaceful slumber.

The sun permeated the dust filled air with sparkling enthusiasm. Sophia stretched and felt a presence in the room. Carefully she opened her eyes, yet no one was there. She could feel that she was being watched, but did not see anyone. Sitting up on the edge of the bed, she wiped her eyes and searched the room. Silently she listened for footsteps, voices, even breathing. But nothing. Not discounting her gut, but ready to move on, Sophia reached for her cane. It was gone. Frantically she searched, it was nowhere.

“Sophia” a soft voice from the corner of the room whispered.

“Whose there? She answered directly and firmly.

There was complete silence. Sophia sat for a moment and listened. Still no noise could be heard. She searched the corners of this sullen room that was brightened by the morning’s beauty; however she could not find the source of the voice.

“Sophia” the voice repeated.

“Not funny. Who is there? Show yourself at once!” her voice is more demanding.

The room remained as it was. Dusty and dismal, with a ray of attraction beaming through the clouded windowpane.

“Why have you lost your voice in me?” the voice sounded.

“What are you talking about? Show yourself. I am done with these games. This is occupied territory. If you are a patrolman, you are not funny. Show yourself so that I may see my accuser.” Her voice now determined and centered on survival.

Silence fell over the room. Sophia scanned carefully and cautiously for the voice and for her cane.

“Sophia, my daughter. I love you. Why have you forgotten your past?”

Zeroing in on the direction of the voice, Sophia carefully slid her feet slowly to that corner of the abyss. There she found her cane leaning up neatly against the wall, but no person. Reaching for her cane to stable herself, she felt another hand press against her wrist.

“My daughter, you do not need this any longer.”

Turning suddenly, she faced the voice. Peace and love were artistic pleasures that were perfectly articulated. A man of humble appearance. Soft and kind. Instantly she knew from whom the voice was coming from.

Silence fell about her tongue and her eyes were fixed on his gaze. Looking into his eyes provided a peace that she had not felt in many years. A peace that she had lost when she watched the occupation decapitate her husband on national television for the protection of the peaceful regime. A peace that she lost when her own children were turned against her and used as pawns to draw her out. As her mother was burned inside the church that was locked from the outside to ensure that the evil from within those walls could not endanger the peaceful world in which was being created. A peace that was long gone from her soul.

“You call me your daughter yet…” her voice cold and direct.

“Yes, you are my daughter. I have never left you. You left me.”

Not leaving his gaze, for she had heard of the occupation using such deception, she reached for her cane to slowly move away and get a better view.

“If you are who I think you are…” she paused, “then where have you been? You have allowed all this, why?”

“Sophia” the soothing voice countered “I have been here the whole time. Your husband and your mother stood for truth. My truth. They are no longer in the agony of this world. Your children, though were lost, are coming back to me. You are but the last one that has left. You are now the lost one. I am here to bring you home.”

A tear formed in the corner of her eyes. The thought of her husband and mother being free from pain. The thought of her children seeking what is right. The thought of peace again…was almost too much to bear.

“Sophia, your time is coming soon. Your house will be made whole again. You need only come to me.”

Wiping the tears from her face, she said, “Then why are the pages blank?”

“The pages are not blank. You need only believe.”

“I saw the book … I opened it … they were blank. I came back here to see that book and to make my home again, but …” tears flooded down her face. “The pages were empty. They were empty.”

“Sophia, the words of my Father are there. Your heart is not pure, and you are seeking from a foolish place. My words are hidden to the foolish, you know this. Return to me and the Word will be yours forever.” He pleaded with harmonious love and encouragement.

Outside, the occupational forces were closing in on her house. They were meticulously surrounding and checking for how many they would encounter. Ensuring that they had the upper hand.

Oblivious to the movement outside the house, and completely focused on the Voice, Sophia wept uncontrollably. The words that the voice expressed were true to her core. She knew that he, the Voice, was the One. She knew that He was there for her. But he could not take her without her surrender.

“The pages” she cried

“They are full of the words that you know. See …” The Voice opened the book, and the pages were full once again.

At that moment, the occupation forces barged into the house, threw Sophia to the ground, and began to pummel her. All the while calling out incredibly vulgar names. She looked up and the Voice watched with tears, holding the book open to her …

The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.

At last, Sophia found the peace that she so earnestly longed for.