Christine's Journey

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A rustle of the gentle wind could be heard nearby. The animals had gone to their nests, trees, and holes for the night. A deep, majestic dark blue covered the sky. The rays of the sun were blocked by the horizon, and here and there were scattered a few stars.
Graceful and delicate, ripples stirred in a pond. A pale colored hand dipped in and out of the water. The girl, whom the hand belonged to, lay in the mist, dreaming of far off lands. Her copper tresses danced in the wind, a few strands doused in the water below. A silhouette of herself came back to her wide, blue eyes as she gazed into the water.
“Off in your head again Christine? Dreaming of imaginary lands? You’re insane.” she breathed in the night. She might have spoken louder save for the fear of breaking the silence.
“Yes.” She said to herself, “I see castles and knights, swordsmen and horses, mountains and sunsets.” She continued, fighting off the negative energy in her mind. “I have read of princesses in long flowing dresses. Many with bows and ribbons, food to eat, and lots of dances and parties. It’s just wonderful.”
Then her mind fought back, “In books, you say? It’s fantasy. Just like you. You’ll never truly see these things, for they simply do not exist.”
Christine emitted a solemn sigh from her lips. She reluctantly reentered the reality she lived in. Her heart and soul pressed against her mind, but they couldn’t penetrate it. How could she go against the teachings of Uncle Andrew?
Just this morning her uncle had said, “Books are a waste of time. Only from hard sweat and labor can you receive benefits in this life.” Soon after, the beautiful poetry Christine had beheld moments before was burned in the fire. She shed a few tears only to hear her uncle protest his point once again, “Now run along and get to work!”
Christine rolled over in the grass. The sky was so amazing. Life was so amazing. There had to be more to it than just labor, so much more.
“Uncle just doesn’t understand.” She breathed after a prolonged silence, “They are real. I just haven’t seen them. One day, I shall.”
With that, the negative voice diminished. Christine’s lips formed a smile. She rolled about in the grass, laughing for no reason. She didn’t even mind the dirt or the leaves getting in her hair.
Around four in the morning Christine went inside. She tiptoed up the rather loud and boisterous stairs, praying that her uncle wasn’t listening. Every step took determination and grace for the trip to be utterly silent. Finally, Christine sighed with relief. She had made it to her room. After she put on her bedclothes and washed her face, Christine slid under her quilt and drifted off to sleep.

~

A shrill, gruffy voice disturbed the haven of Christine's sleep, "Are ya goin' to sleep all day?!" Uncle Andrew snapped, "There's dishes to be washed, floors to be mopped, weeds to be pulled, eggs to be collected, and cows to be milked. Get to work!" Christine merely groaned in response, pulling the quilt up over her head. Andrew set down his bottle of whiskey and ripped the blanket off of the bed. This violent manner caused the quilt to tear.
Christine gasped, "No! Don't!"
"That's the least of your worries if ya don't get goin'! It's already five-thirty!" he growled.
She sighed, nodding in obedience as her not so sober uncle fumbled out of the room. As he went back to bed, Christine timidly ran to her quilt. The torn pieces seemed to scream for mercy.
"I will only be gone for a little while." her mother had spoken to her, that night, so long ago, "Whenever you are scared, hug this magic quilt, and I promise I shall hug back. Alright?"
"Yes, Momma." replied the little girl.
"I love you." whispered her mother as she embraced Christine, "Never forget that."
Then, the memory faded. Christine was unaware of the tears streaming down her face. She couldn't articulate anything at present.
All she could think of was that last night she had had with her mother. That was in the days of the war, when it wasn't safe for children to live in town. Christine was supposed to be left at her uncle's until the danger subsided, but something completely unexpected happened. Her parents were murdered. She was never told of how, when, or where, but she knew they were gone. The last thing her mother had given her was 'magic quilt,' handmade with love and care. Sometimes Christine could smell her mother's scent in the quilt. Sometimes she could feel a hug or a kiss from the past. It was most definately her most prized possesion. But now, it was ruined.
Christine solemnly wiped away her tears, picking up the torn pieces. They were from then on kept in a secret place under the floor boards, where uncles couldn't cause any further damage.
The sun began to peak over the horizon. Christine knew it was time to work. She got dressed in her brown skirt, strapped boots, and plain blouse. Skipping downstairs, she bounded for the barn.
Chickens chattered and cows sang. The earth was beginning to awaken. The girl hummed as she worked, attempting to ignore her feelings of betrayal, homesickness, and overall anxiety. After all, she had had only an hour and a half of sleep.
The whole barn hushed at the sound of Christine's singing. The humming had slowly developed into words, and they rang loudly in her angelic tone.
"Pass me not oh Gentle Savior.
Hear my humble cry.
While on others Thou art smiling,
Do not pass me by.
Let me at a Throne of Mercy,
Find a sweet relief.
Kneeling there in deep contration.
Help my unbelief.

Savior! Savior! Hear my humble cry!
While on others Thou art calling,
Do not pass me by."
The cows paid full attention during the song, as did the chickens, goats, ect. They obviously couldn't know what she was singing about, but in spite of that, it intrigued them all the same. Christine sighed, singing the words again, with even more passion than before.
After a few lines, she faded off. Among the few books she had hidden from her uncle was the Bible. She had accepted Jesus as her Savior and knew he had a purpose for her. But where?! How could she serve him in this hellish place? She knew she could not.
"That's it!" she spoke aloud, "That's what I'm missing!" It had just occured to her that her yearning and yearning for something more was simply that. She needed to fulfill God's purpose for her! She was so excited!
"Wait a minute." she thought instantly, "How are you going to find out what that is?" This proposed a problem. She finally realized what captivity she was truly in. There had to be a way out!