And other short stories
Followers of The Way were being rounded up, but I never expected to be one of them. I wanted to ask God, “Why Me” but would it do any good? Instead, I prayed for strength and endurance, little knowing how much I would need it.
I’d always done things my way. Why would my flight test be any different?
Hope is All that is Left
Our parents had been arrested and Liz and I now hid from unknown enemies. We had nothing left until we remembered one thing: The hope that spring would come again.
I never should have signed the contract. Not without knowing what my invention would be used for. Now I had a hard choice to make. Violate my conscience or forfeit my life?
So much pain. So much suffering. We were sick without cure until the angel came.
Star Kitty: The Data Files
My name is Data and I am a cat. I never expected to go on a spaceship or become a hero. Somehow, though, God had plans for both to happen. This is my story.
I curled up into a tight ball on the narrow cot, hoping to get warm. The cell I had been thrown into had drafts, rats, and countless other things I didn’t want to think about. I couldn’t understand why I had been singled out. Of all the followers of The Way, why me?
Curling up didn’t work, so I swung my legs around and stood up. I jogged in place for a few minutes and quoted passages from The Book in rhythm to my movement.
“I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life. No one comes to the Father except by Me.”
“For God has not given you a spirit of fear, but of power and love and self-control.”
As I quoted and jogged, my body and spirit both warmed up.
“To the King of all days, immortal, invisible, the only wise God, be honor and glory, forever and ever. Amen.”
“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self-control.”
“Be quiet in there!” a guard yelled, rattling the door.
I took a deep breath and sat on my cot. “Well, God, it’s just You and me in this cell. I don’t know why I’m here or what they will do with me. Whatever happens, Lord, help me to stand strong—”
The door rattled again, then squealed on its hinges as a man stepped into the cell, bringing a lantern with him. “Prisoner 473, stand up.”
I blinked in the bright light and tried to make out his face. Was he talking to me?
“Prisoner 473, formerly known as Dennis Malcolm, stand up.”
I gulped. I had read books about the lost history of the Holocaust and heard about the prisoners being reduced to numbers, but I never thought it would happen to me. Would future generations deny this event happened, too?
We can say with confidence, ‘The Lord is my helper, I will not fear; what can man do to me?’ I quoted the verse in my head as I stood up.
“You will now respond to the name Prisoner 473, or 473. You will receive no further warnings,” the guard behind the lantern spoke in a robotic tone. Was he human or robot?
“I understand,” I replied.
“Come with me.” Not knowing what else to do, I followed. As I watched the man walk, I decided it was actually a robot dressed in black, or at least a human who walked and talked like a robot.
Although, considering all the supposed advances they had made the last few years, this could be one of those robots that looks human.
Check out my shop for a signed copy!