Poems from my heart
I Am Not Sure--a story poem By Krysta Ray
I find myself in a empty room. What am I doing here? It is damp and musty. Almost how I think a prison would be. Suddenly the door opens and a tall, dark man comes in the door; I didn't realize how dark it was until he came in with the light.
"Sit Down" he tells me in a gruff voice and for the first time I notice a chair. I want to leave and walk out the door but my head hurts to much. I feel something cold run down the side of my face. I try to reach up to touch it but can't move my arm. I can now taste the liquid and realize it's blood! How did that get there?
"Sit Down" he tells me again. He now sounds irritated and so to avoid making the tall, dark man angry, I sit down in the squeaky chair. He brings the flashlight to my eyes and ask "Do you believe in Jesus Christ?" Being to tired to really function I say "uh-uh."
SMACK across my face..."I'll ask you again, do believe in the one they call Jesus Christ...the 'savior'?" He has an evil looking smile on his cracked face like he is about to laugh but doesn't know how. "Yes, sir."
SMACK again across my face. "Do think he is the Christ? Last chance to say no." "Why would I say no to something that is the truth?" I don't know where my strength to say this answer is coming from. CRACK...suddenly my face is being squished into the ground as he cracked the chair out from under me.
"I want you to spit on the Bible or you will never see light again!" "no" SMACK...Squish. My head is throbbing now...Why can't he just leave if he's going to ask me the same questions over and over again.
"I will give you a nice meal if you deny believing in Jesus." he says tauntingly. "The Bible says that man shall not live on bread alone but on..." SMACK. BRING! I wake up from my night mere. I keep having the same one...I know this is a reality for some people. It haunts me all the time and I wonder; would I have the courage?
I would like to say I do but I am not sure.
I am not sure.
"Sit Down" he tells me in a gruff voice and for the first time I notice a chair. I want to leave and walk out the door but my head hurts to much. I feel something cold run down the side of my face. I try to reach up to touch it but can't move my arm. I can now taste the liquid and realize it's blood! How did that get there?
"Sit Down" he tells me again. He now sounds irritated and so to avoid making the tall, dark man angry, I sit down in the squeaky chair. He brings the flashlight to my eyes and ask "Do you believe in Jesus Christ?" Being to tired to really function I say "uh-uh."
SMACK across my face..."I'll ask you again, do believe in the one they call Jesus Christ...the 'savior'?" He has an evil looking smile on his cracked face like he is about to laugh but doesn't know how. "Yes, sir."
SMACK again across my face. "Do think he is the Christ? Last chance to say no." "Why would I say no to something that is the truth?" I don't know where my strength to say this answer is coming from. CRACK...suddenly my face is being squished into the ground as he cracked the chair out from under me.
"I want you to spit on the Bible or you will never see light again!" "no" SMACK...Squish. My head is throbbing now...Why can't he just leave if he's going to ask me the same questions over and over again.
"I will give you a nice meal if you deny believing in Jesus." he says tauntingly. "The Bible says that man shall not live on bread alone but on..." SMACK. BRING! I wake up from my night mere. I keep having the same one...I know this is a reality for some people. It haunts me all the time and I wonder; would I have the courage?
I would like to say I do but I am not sure.
I am not sure.
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I Am Not Sure--a story poem By Krysta Ray
I Am Not Sure--a story poem By Krysta Ray
