Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1680517-The-Savior
Rated: GC · Short Story · Romance/Love · #1680517
A love story survives the Rwandan genocide. Placed 1st in UENG Spring Fling 2010.
The "UENG Spring Fling [18+] is a prompt-based contest. You must choose from one of the prompts below, and incorporate it into your story. Use of the prompt is a consideration, so if the prompt is something like, "cabin in the woods," someone who mentions a picture of a cabin in the woods on a credenza won't have as much of a chance of winning as someone who actually includes a cabin in the woods. There are three different prompts with varying degrees of intricacy, so you should be able to find something that suits your fancy:

1. Write a story that centers around a familiar "Spring" occurrence: April showers, May flowers, the vernal equinox, thawing snow, the birds & the bees, Easter, etc.

2. Write a story in which the goal of the sexual encounter is conceiving. Go any direction you want... it could be a happy couple trying to have a baby together, or two strangers of which one wants a kid but other doesn't or is unaware.

3. Write a story about a Spring Break trip. Could be for teachers or students... anything from a wild trip to Cabo, to a cathartic road trip, to the annual family trip to see the grandparents.


Map of Africa showing location of Rwanda.Map of Rwanda showing location of Kigali.

April 6th, 1994.

Kigali, Rwanda.

The residents of Kigali, capital of the tiny African nationality of Rwanda, greeted the last rainfall of the season with anxiety and foreboding. True, the rain offered respite from the oppressive heat, but it also brought in its wake misery and pain by stretching the city's crumbling civic infrastructure. One more challenge to contend with, the beleaguered citizens braced themselves for a bitter struggle, the political instability threatening the fragile peace of their nation gnawing at their minds. They would not know that they were on the brink of an unprecedented frenzy which owed its roots to tribal strife, a shameful legacy of Belgian colonialism. The ethnic cleansing and the ghastly bloodbath that were about to begin would be on a scale that had few parallels in civilized history.

In a slightly calmer neighborhood of Kigali, Timothy Clayton watched with pleasure his lover, Yvonne Umotoni, prepare herself for his enjoyment. The breeze from the open window permeated the room with the fragrance of freshly wet earth that the showers had triggered. Energized by the refreshing coolness of the environment, his spirits soared when the tall and statuesque woman shed her robe. Completely nude underneath, her dark-chocolate complexion sent a rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins, the pitter patter of the raindrops playing in the background like an orchestra.

Mesmerized as ever by Yvonne's full breasts and shapely hips, he rose from his seat, eager to join her. Crawling on to the bed, she sprawled on her back, folded her long legs, and spread her thighs, offering him an unobstructed glimpse of her charms. He gaped at the black petals of her bald womanhood. Quickly, he stripped his clothes, revealing his toned white body. His hardness sprang up, engorged and red, pointing at her at an angle. He walked toward her, strands of his blonde hair fluttering in the breeze from the window through which he could see the lights of Kigali’s few multi-storied apartments blinking in the distant horizon.

He always worried about what she thought about the graying hair around his temples, a painful reminder of his forty years compared to her tender twenty-one. For the time being, it didn't seem to matter. Yvonne's dimpled smile and sparkling doe-eyes stamped her approval of his physique and manliness. Brushing aside thoughts of his seniority, he planned to spend that evening in enthralling his younger companion. His considerable experience would come in handy.

Positioning himself between her thighs, he supported his weight upon his elbows. His heart raced on the close view of her gorgeous face. He caressed the curls of her hair, which smelled of his favorite shampoo and kissed her deeply. She opened her mouth slightly for his tongue to slip inside and frolic with hers. He adored the fruity taste of her saliva and partook of it in liberal quantities, the heady flavor beginning to inebriate his mind.

He showered her face with kisses and nibbled upon the sensitive skin of her long neck, eliciting soft moans from her. Pleased with her response, he moved down and brought his face to the level of her ample bosom. He fondled her breast, enjoying its tenderness. Enticed by the swollen nipples, he cupped the rounded-beauty and inserted it into his mouth. Rolling his tongue over the erect bud, he squeezed gently on the soft flesh.

“Oh, Tim,” Yvonne moaned while he lavished her. Instinctively, she entangled one hand in his hair and moved the other one to please her free breast. Taking the cue, Tim shifted his focus to her other round jewel. Having enjoyed both her soft peaches, he continued to trail his tongue down her flat belly. He licked the inside of her bellybutton, making her squirm with delight.

Continuing his exploration of her body, Timothy finally reached his prize, the deeply private space between her thighs. He smelled her muskiness, marveled at the fat lips of her outer labia. Enthralled by the smooth texture, he pulled them aside to see the puckered inner flaps and the pink cavern beyond. He darted his tongue out and lashed at the inside walls of her vagina. Moaning, Yvonne writhed her hips. He licked across the length of her slit and delved as deep as he could possibly reach.

Her sounds, smells and touches inspired the best in him. His considerable experience with women notwithstanding, Yvonne always baffled him. In complete awe of her intelligence and beauty, he took great pride in unraveling the secrets of her body and reveled in discovering newer methods to pleasure and service her. Using their prolonged bouts of passion to train himself, he perfected his knowledge of all her intimate needs and used them to quench her raw, unbridled sexuality. Their initial days were dotted with wild, uninhibited sex. Over time, their relationship assumed a different hue, the intense sexual attraction giving way to love, deeply passionate, yet mellow and mature.

Yvonne's lustful sighs stoked his own need. He slid the tip of his tongue below her clitoral hood and teased her sensitive nub, applying just the right pressure to delight her. She grasped his head and pulled him deeper into her slippery flesh. Rubbing her sex on his face, she reached an explosive climax. He felt blessed when her delicious spends coated his mouth. He lapped them up all, every single drop of her essence extremely precious to him.

"Come to me, Tim," Yvonne pleaded.

Timothy mounted between her legs, his erect member, hard as a nail, proclaiming his need. He pressed his lips to hers allowing her to savor her own excitement. He felt her fingers curl around his shaft and pump it in her silky grasp. She wedged the crown between her swollen vaginal lips, the contact generating indescribable sensations in his loins. He framed her face in his hands and kissed her deeply, his tongue darting into her mouth. Gradually, he slided his hardness into her vagina, slick with her arousal and begging to be fed. At last, he was embedded within her velvety sheath, the heat of her vagina enveloping him like warm oil.

Yvonne locked her legs around his pelvis and pulled him deeper. He lay still for a few moments relishing the warmth of her womanly curves pressed underneath. Her hands caressing his hair and their tongues engaged in a playful combat, he felt her tight clutch on every millimeter of his manhood. He started to pull out slowly, almost threatening to withdraw, bringing panic to her eyes. A beatific smile replaced the dismay when he pushed right back in a swift move. He repeated the action, rocking back and forth, striking her cervix at every inward lurch. Her silky tightness, soft yet unyielding, produced exquisite friction. She lurched her hips forward in tandem with his every thrust. Their grunts and sighs filled the room and the fresh breeze cooled their bodies glistening with the sweat of their exertions.

Timothy knew exactly when to increase the tempo. He felt her claw into his back, heard her labored breathing and smelled her sex in the air. He thrust into her with greater speed, this time using a rotating motion and stretching her love canal to the hilt. When her body shuddered he realized that he had touched her G-spot and he directed his muscle at that point again and again.

"Don't you want to ride me?" he asked, knowing she loved to climax atop him.

Surprisingly, she shook her head. "This feels so good, darling. Don't stop," she gasped.

He kissed her. "As you wish. Let's come together." She nodded.

Timothy's heart raced, sensing her pleasure as her nails dug into his back. It pulsed his body with delight and filled his mind with happiness. What more could he ask for than to be bonded in a joyous union with a woman whom he considered the most beautiful on earth and whose love had come to mean much more than his own life. Nothing caused him greater contentment than oneness with Yvonne, his lover and raison d'etre. Their coupling was only a mere physical manifestation of the fact that they were one soul in two different bodies.

The spasmodic convulsions of her flesh around his rod communicated the advent of her climax. Responding, he relaxed his control, feeling her vise like grip on his member. Timothy pressed himself harder upon her, his chest pasted upon her breasts, as her body began to quiver violently. It precipitated his own fulfillment and he spurted jets of his seed deep into her womb. Amazed by the copiousness of his own ejaculation, he kissed her tenderly, his body grateful, his heart contented and his spirits in the clouds. She clenched her teeth and locked her arm and limbs around him, the orgasmic vibrations in her vagina milking him dry.

They allowed the wet winds to cool their hot bodies. Yvonne lay in Timothy's arms, her head buried in his chest, listening to Whitney Houston croon 'I will always love you' on the radio. She loved how he smelled after their lovemaking, wild and masculine. He looked at the clock on the side table. It was time to tune in to the customary World News on BBC. Leaning over her, he changed the radio station, just in time to hear the news that would occupy center-stage in their lives for the next 100 days.

The presidents of the African states of Rwanda and Burundi have been killed in a plane crash near the Rwandan capital, Kigali.
Juvenal Habyarimana of Rwanda and Burundi's Cyprian Ntayamira were among 10 people on the aircraft which some reports say was brought down by rocket fire.

Timothy gave a start and sat up straight on the bed."Holy Shit!" Yvonne saw his eyebrows crease with worry. Suddenly, he seemed distant and tensed. Herself greatly disturbed by the news, she placed a hand on his arm as the news reporter continued her grim reading.

The two presidents were returning from a meeting of east and central African leaders in Tanzania at which they discussed ways to end the ethnic violence in Burundi and Rwanda.

Bloody feuding between the majority Hutu tribe and the minority Tutsis has plagued both the tiny central African states for years.

In Rwanda, President Habyarimana's Hutu coalition reached a peace accord last August with Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF) rebels, made up mainly of Tutsis, but they have failed to agree on a transitional government.

The deaths of the presidents, both Hutus, looks likely to make the situation in both states worse.

Heavy fighting has already been reported around the presidential palace in Rwanda after news of the deaths spread.

News agencies in Kigali said explosions have been rocking the city but it was not immediately clear who was involved in the fighting.

Yvonne watched Timothy's reaction with dismay. A pall of gloom darkened his handsome features. She sat up next to him and switched off the radio. Running her fingers through his hair, she whispered. "Everything will be alright, baby."

His feeble smile told her that he wasn't convinced. For long, the couple had ignored rumors of brewing ethnic hatred. Extremist elements of the majority Hutu tribe forbade its members from any form of social interaction with the minority Tutsis or white foreigners. The Hutus believed that the Tutsis considered themselves to be superior because of their tall built, light skin and long nose. Since the white colonial masters preferred to associate with the Tutsis and used them to dominate the Hutus, misguided Hutu leaders classified whites also as their enemies.

"I may be a Hutu, Tim, but remember that I am always with you. Before anyone lays a finger on you, he has to pass over my dead body," she mumbled.

He pulled her to his chest, kissed her head. "I would rather die before seeing anything happen to you. It's not my life alone. I can't live a single moment without you. What if the leaders of your tribe snatch you from me," he spluttered.

"Nobody is taking me from you," she affirmed.

They clung to each other in silence. She thought hard about how to cheer him. "Do you remember our first meeting?" she asked.

He laughed, and she was pleased at how much better he sounded. "Can I ever forget that?"

She kissed him slightly on his cheek. " I remember the exact time. Christmas Day, 1992. 11 am."

"Do you remember what you wore?"

She nodded vigorously. " Mishanana. You were staring as if you saw a woman for the first time."

They both laughed, nervously.

"Do you remember that function in the evening?" Timothy asked.

Relieved with the gaiety in his voice, she replied. "Yes. You got drunk. I had to drag you back home and tuck you into bed."

"It was the only way I could touch you."

"I felt the same about you. My heart fluttered every time your blue eyes sized me."

"It was almost six months after our first meeting that we finally... I never expected you to be a virgin," he whispered, stroking her face.

He kissed her. "I love you, Yvonne. After I met you, you're the only woman I have been with. I can't even imagine being with anyone else."

"I love you too, Tim. After dad's death, I don't know what I would have done without you. The day you shifted here with me permanently was the happiest of my life. I feel so comfortable and happy in your arms."

He embraced her tighter. "I want to spend my life with you."

"Oh, my darling."

Sleep overwhelmed the two lovers giving their troubled minds much needed respite. They were blissfully unaware of the catastrophe that was going to strike their life. Deep in their subconscious each one of them reminisced about happier times, about their fortuitous first meeting which happened only because Timothy's colleague had taken ill.

Dec 25th, 1992

Kiriyari, South of Kigali, Rwanda.

The rusty red Toyota pickup, the roof and hood paint burnt off by the sun years ago, rumbled up the serpentine dirt roads leading to Kiriyari, located about 50 kms to the south of Kigali. Seated next to the driver, Timothy gazed in wonder at the breathtaking scenes around him. He knew that Kiriyari was located at an altitude of about 2000 meters, but had no idea that rural Rwanda would abound in such lush greenery. The narrow road did give him the scare when the driver kept too close to the edge. However, it gave him a glimpse of the undulating slope carpeted in green. Though summer, being the Southern Hemisphere, the cool mountain air invigorated his spirits and banished the weariness of his body. He had just reached Kigali that morning starting from his base in London..

Not confident about his French, he tried to communicate through sign language. He pointed his watch to the driver and gesticulated.

"Thirty minutes, Monsieur," replied the driver in labored English.

"Oh, you speak, English?" asked Timothy.

"Un peu," the man replied with a grin.

He understood that it meant 'a little.'

The mud huts and children on the roads meant that they were almost there. Soon, the pickup entered an opening in a barbed fence and halted opposite a modest house. Timothy hopped out and stretched his sore limbs, the jasmine smell of the coffee blossoms pleasing his nose. His back turned toward the house, he began to walk in the direction of the coffee plantation. The melodious voice and perfect English made him stop dead in his track. "Good morning, Mr. Clayton."

He turned to face the owner of the voice and his jaw fell open. A striking African woman stood before him wearing what looked like an Indian sari. She seemed to read his bewilderment because an amusing smile played at the corners of her mouth. The dress consisted of a long flowing skirt and a transparent sash that sat across her left shoulder. Her black-colored blouse, hanging from the shoulders by straps, just covered the swell of her ample breasts. The upper potion of her chest and her right arm were bare and he gawked at her flawless, chocolate- brown skin.

"I am Yvonne Umotoni," she introduced herself.

The name was familiar to him. It belonged to the owner of the plantation he stood in. Expecting to meet a venerable old lady, the Black Goddess facing him took his breath away. Timothy's good looks and charming personality attracted women to him like a magnet. The opposite sex rarely challenged him. However, the stunning creature before him had an aloofness and confidence that appealed to him like no woman had done in a very long time. Shamelessly, he stared at her lovely face and sensuous lips. He had a strong urge to kiss her mouth and explore her body.

She coughed and he gave a start. He groaned internally about his shabby looks. He wished he had combed his hair well, dressed more appropriately. He cursed the strands of gray in his hair. "Hello, I am Timothy Clayton from Specialties Coffee in London. You would have spoken with my colleague Gildas Henriquet. He is unwell and I had to come in his place."

She shook his extended hand. "I know that. We have been expecting you. I received the telegram from your office."

Just the touch of her warm hand made his head reel. "I'm sorry Miss Umotoni that I spoiled your Christmas. You see my office..."

She cut him short. "It's fine, Mr. Clayton. It's your Christmas too. I'm at home, unlike you. And, please call me Yvonne."

He warmed up to her mature response and flashed her his trademark smile. Few women remained unaffected by it. Unfortunately, she didn't seem to be one of them. "Thank you. And I'm Tim."

"So, Tim, if it's fine with you let me take you around the plantation. By the way, are you a coffee trader or an agronomist?"

"A trader, but have been in the business long enough to understand a bit about plantations as well."

"I'm sure you do better than that. Gildas spoke highly of you."

He felt pleased at her words. "You speak excellent English."

"Thank you. I studied in Uganda. My father's sudden death a few months back forced me to return to Rwanda. There was no one to look after all this," she waved at the trees around her and continued, "Nowadays, I hardly get to speak English. Even Gildas prefers French."

Timothy could hardly focus on the coffee trees. He had come to assess the crop so that they could process the advance payment like they did every year. All that he could evaluate was her beauty and he fantasized about what she would be like in bed.

"So, it's a good crop this year. As you're aware, this plantation produces the best quality Bourbon coffee..."she was saying.

He wasn't listening.

"Tim, what happened?"

"Sorry. Guess I'm tired," he lied.

"If it's okay with you, I have made lunch for both of us. And also made arrangements for you to stay in the house. There is a function in the evening. Of course, if you want to go back to the hotel..."

"I'll stay," he said, thinking on his feet.


June 15th, 1994

Kigali, Rwanda.

The smell of rotting carcasses hung heavily in the air. Kigali's, once bustling streets, resembled a ghost town. Government troops huddled at street corners looking at her suspiciously were the only signs of any activity. Her brows creased with worry, Yvonne kept to the bylanes, taking care to avoid the Tutsi neighborhoods. She had no wish to pass through the scenes of massacre. Clutching her bag of groceries, she walked toward her home. Timothy's bribes to the government troops had kept them alive and together so far, but their cash was almost over. She looked at her watch. There wasn't much time.

Yvonne reached her house and unlocked the door, looking over her shoulders to make sure that she was not being followed. She flung the groceries on to the table. They were merely a ruse for her to conduct a reconnaissance of the city. She found him huddled on the couch in the living room, his face looked haggard and gaunt. She burned to see his plight. You have aged by ten years in one month, she observed.

"We need to leave, Tim. Now!" she implored.

"Are you sure of this, Yvonne?"

She kneeled before him, framed his face and kissed him. "Yes, baby. This place is too unsafe for you. You need to go." Her voice choked and she had to make a brave attempt to hold back her tears. "Don't baby, please don't," she whispered, seeing the tears trickle down his blue eyes.

"I can't live without you, Yvonne. Please don't do this to me." He placed his head on her shoulders and sobbed like a child.

She raised his head and showered him with ardent kisses. "You don't know how difficult this is for me, Tim. I love you. But, for now you have to leave. The Tutsi army will surely win. You can than return."

He shook his head firmly. "Life without you will be more painful than death. I am not going anywhere without you."

She looked at her watch with despair. "The UN plane takes off in an hour, Tim. Don't do this. Please, leave. For God's sake."

"Come with me,Yvonne."

"I would go with you anywhere, baby. Wherever you want. But the plane is for foreigners only. They will not allow me to board."

He rose from his seat. "Then I am not going." He pointed a finger at her. "Even you can't force me to go away from you. Why don't you understand for Chrissakes? I start missing you when you go anywhere for a few hours. You are talking about going away forever." He quaked with emotion.

Yvonne burst out crying. "The Interahamwe is on a house to house search. They will find you, take you from me," she muttered between sobs.


She nodded. " It's a Hutu word meaning those who work or fight together. It's a bunch of Hutu extremists who are going around the city spreading terror. The military or the police just stand and watch. They have the backing of the Hutu government."

He flopped down on the couch. "Sit on my lap, little girl."

She rose to her feet and settled across his thighs. Wrapping her arms around him, she kissed his head while he pressed his face against her soft bosom. They sat trance like, unconscious of the passage of time. She despaired at his adamancy, but realized that he had made up his mind. She would not be able to convince him to leave alone. Her heart bled for him. I will protect you till my last drop of blood, she vowed.

The loud clanking on their door made both of them sit up with fright. They heard gunshots and vociferous cries outside.

"So this is it!" he said calmly.

"Yes, baby. Let me die in your arms." She was crying on his shoulders, when the Interahamwe crashed the door and marched in. A bunch of screaming mobsters, wielding machetes and guns, surrounded the hapless couple. They made way for a young man who made his way forward with a swagger. He seemed to be the leader. "So what do we have here? A white man with his black whore." he sneered. His heavily accented English was distinct and comprehensible.

Yvonne made no attempt to rise from Timothy's lap and the two lovers remained entangled, daring the mob to do what it pleased. The leader motioned to his men and they seized Yvonne away.

"No, let her go," Timothy cried, trying to stand up. The leader kicked him hard on his chest and he collapsed onto the floor in pain. One of the men came forward and raised his machete on top of Timothy. He swung the weapon down on Timothy's neck. Yvonne started screaming something in Kinyarwanda.

The leader clutched the arm of Timothy's tormentor just in time to prevent the machete from striking Timothy. He turned to Yvonne, looking shocked. The men released her and she crumbled to her knees, clutching her belly and continuing to blabber. The leader looked at Timothy with rage. He went to Yvonne, spat upon her and abruptly walked out, taking the mob with him. A deathly silence ensued. Yvonne got up and rushed toward Timothy who lay on the floor in a fetal position.

"Are you alright, Tim?" she asked, crying hysterically. She helped him sit up and kissed the back of his neck several times where the machete would have beheaded him.

It took some time before he stopped shaking. She helped him to a chair and clutched his head to her breasts.

"Yvonne," his voice trembled. "They hurt you, abused you, and I just watched."

She arched his head toward her. "They were many and armed. What could you have done?"

He still look terrified. "What did you say that made them go away?"

"I told them I am with your child," she replied.


She knew they had to hurry. "We have to move from here. Let me pack a few clothes and we move to my cousin's house."

He stood up and caught her hand. "Wait."

"You said that you were pregnant and those murderers let you go?" he insisted.

She pursed her lips. "I hid something from you." He scrunched his eyebrows.

A meaningful pause followed before she started again."I have an elder brother. My father disowned him when he joined the extremist Hutu movement. The leader you saw today was him."

"My God!"

"But that doesn't change things between us, does it Tim?" she asked with concern.

"Of course not, silly. I love you. Your family doesn't matter. But why would it matter to him that you're pregnant?"

"When we were young, we were very close. He had promised to always protect my family. I reminded him of his oath," she said wistfully.

She began to walk away from him, but felt his fingers on her shoulder. She turned. "What?" she asked, making a brave effort to conceal her tears.

"Yvonne, why would your brother believe you?"

She took in a deep breath, bit her lips and looked at her feet. "Tim, we grew up together. He would know if I were lying."

He blinked at her in utter bewilderment. Her heart lurched unable to comprehend his reaction. Soon, the surprise on his face turned to elation. His eyes sparkled with affection and he lifted her in the air, dancing and yelling, "I'm going to be a father!" She couldn't hold back her emotions any longer. She laughed and cried and laughed again, tears streaking down her cheeks.

Suddenly, his face contorted into a mask of dismay and he placed her back on the floor.

"What happened?" she asked, getting worried.

He made her sit down, squatted in front of her and took her hands. "I'm mad holding you up like that! You're carrying."

The worry on his face amused her. Running her fingers through his hair, she smiled sweetly and said, "Don't worry. Our baby will be strong like me. But we should be careful."

"When did you know?"


"But I thought you were on the pill."

"I stopped. I was worried that you would have to leave. I wanted to have your baby inside me before you went."

"You never told me!"

"I wasn't sure how you would take it," she uttered. She cringed on seeing the pain in his eyes.

"Is my love not strong enough? You are my everything. I have no one waiting for me anywhere. This is my home. You are my family, Yvonne. Why don't you trust me?"

Tears welled in her eyes. "I am sorry, Tim. Hold me, please."

He came next to her and embraced her in his arms."You saved my life, Princess."

She pointed to her midriff. "No, he did."

He leaned and kissed her stomach whispering, "Here breathes our Savior." Sitting up, he said. "It's not a he. I want a girl." He put a finger on her chest."Like you." She chuckled and played with his hair.

He bent again and faced her belly. "Your Mom wanted to send me away," he complained to their unborn baby.

"So that he could live to claim his family," she explained to her baby, caressing her stomach.

He went down on one knee and curtsied. "Marry me, Princess."



On July 4th, 1994, nineteen days after Timothy Clayton made his miraculous escape, the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF) led by Paul Kagame captured Kigali and ended the genocide. Yvonne and Timothy got married on the same day to commemorate the event. On Dec 25th, 1994, Yvonne brought their Savior, baby Francesca to the world. Her parents were overjoyed that she was born on the very day they had first met. The couple moved with their child to Kiriyari to live on their coffee plantation. Yvonne's brother escaped arrest and fled to neighboring Congo. Yvonne maintained no contact with him.

Many were not as lucky as Yvonne and Timothy. The genocide lasted 100 days and claimed an estimated million lives. Half a million Tutsi women were raped. In most cases, the women were first forced to see their families being massacred. Many of these war widows suffer from HIV.

Rwanda, today, struggles to brush off its colonial and ethnic past. Commendable efforts have been made to rebuild the economy based on coffee and tourism. Yvonne and Timothy live in Kiriyari with their four children. Occasionally, they spend time in their Kigali house where the above incidents unfolded. Their coffee business is flourishing.

Word Count: 4986

© Copyright 2010 Prof Moriarty (profmoriarty at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1680517-The-Savior