The Light In The Darkness Series ~ Book 1
A Tale Of Transformation
Alexa Stewart
Bryne Press
© 2012 by Alexa Stewart. All rights reserved.
SECOND EDITION – Revised
Bryne Press functions only as book publisher. As such, the ultimate design, content, editorial accuracy, and views expressed or implied in this work are those of the author.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any way by any means - electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise - without the prior permission of the copyright holder, except as provided by USA copyright law.
This publication is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or publisher.
Unless otherwise noted, all Scriptures are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com.
Scripture references marked KJV are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
The Light in the Darkness Series: A Tale of Transformation was previously published by WinePress Publishing (Aug 2011)
ISBN 13: 978-1-4675-3467-3
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 2012944588.
Dedicated to my grandfather, a pastor from Scotland –
whose love of writing verse and short stories runs deep within my heart.
Contents
In The Dark
Back Home
Emma’s Choice
Life with Emma
Quest to Know
Winds of Change
Room of Waiting
The Next Day
Saying Goodbye
The Return
Deep Love
Other Books
In The Dark
DO YOU KNOW the difference between a dream and a vision? Ann didn’t. But the difference would transform her life forever. This is what she experienced.
* * * *
Everything was black when I opened my eyes. It was impossible to make out where I was in the darkness - merely that I was in an alien place completely unfamiliar and strange to me. This wasn’t the world I knew and I had no memory of how I had gotten here.
Crouching behind a large boulder, shivering from cold and fear, I looked around. All I could see was a vast darkness, casting the space around me into oblivion. Against this black void plunged an enormous curtain of light, falling from unseen heights, the ends vanishing far into the distance on either side of me. My breath came in deep gasps of vapor, as it floated in the dark.
I watched mesmerized as the iridescent entity fell out of the black sky in crystal streams of ebbing color… shimmering… pulsing. It was like sitting in a vast, cold, dark room with the light from the television illuminating the things around me, only I wasn’t home. I was in an alien world, submerged in the dark, with the living curtain of light the only illumination.
Where am I?
Why am I here?
Then the thought… Am I dead?
Every cell of my body tingled with dread. I felt unprotected behind the cold, hard surface of the stone, as I felt the light calling me, drawing me, urging me to come. I fought the desire. It called to me in a way that was hard to resist, but I did.
As I cowered there, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. Tearing my gaze from the light, I looked to my left and in the dim glow, saw another face lit by the pulsating light.
Suddenly, I realized I knew him. It was Mr. Tennyson, a nice teacher I had had at Trinity High School, many years ago.
What’s he doing here?
Is he dead too?
I glanced to my right and saw, stretched out in a long, irregular line, more stone boulders melting into the dark, with dim faces lit up by the living curtain. All were looking at the light, drawn to it.
My eyes returned to the fluid light. I couldn’t move. I just couldn’t, I was so frightened and uncertain of this place.
Movement drew my attention back to Mr. Tennyson as I watched him slowly stand up and walk around the stone, the dark swallowing his legs like a black fog. He glided toward the light with an unreadable expression, his hands stretched out in front of him. I watched transfixed as he stopped in front of the living curtain, hesitating, just a breath, before touching it. The fluid light rippled over his hands, sparkling, and spitting light embers. His countenance lit up with a large smile, joy emanating from his face. Gliding forward, he allowed the light to flow over his arms, his shoulders, and finally all of him was engulfed by the liquefied light.
The transparent curtain, like a living crystal prism, showed him emerging on the other side, as though through a wavy, distorted window.
Gripping the icy surface of the stone, I screamed in horror, but I could hear no sound in this alien world. Mr. Tennyson had emerged on the other side with his flesh eaten away to reveal a hideous, deformed creature. Sinew and bone were now rearranged into a gruesome mass of distorted flesh. Huge bulging eyes and a ravenous mouth dominated his repulsive features.
Why, dear Lord?
What’s happening?
Silent sobs shook my body. The creature’s countenance was twisted into unadulterated hate. It looked as though it needed something to devour, something to destroy.
Tears streamed down my face.
What am I going to do?
What’s going on?
I felt so powerless, small, and alone in a world I didn’t understand. Shrinking down behind the boulder, I tried to conceal myself. With my heart pounding I thought… There’s no way I’m going near that curtain!
Suddenly, movement to my right revealed a child in a wheelchair pushing herself toward the light. I held my breath, observing her move ever closer.
It’s going to mutilate her! I can’t look!
Morbidly I watched.
I called out to her, trying to stop her, but no sound carried on the air. All I could hear was the wild pounding of my heart. I tried to stand to my feet, but my legs wouldn’t obey me. They felt like lead, rooted somewhere in the darkness beneath me. Helplessly, I clung to the hard, frigid surface of the stone and stared, transfixed.
Stopping in front of the living curtain, she reached out her hand, touching its liquid surface. Drawn into the light, like Mr. Tennyson, she too was transformed, but this time no monster was revealed. Instead, an angelic, beautiful young woman, healthy and whole, stood on the other side with a gentle expression on her face.
Sounds couldn’t be heard here, I realized, but a strange sensation came unbidden and strong… a feeling that she was good and kind, finally at peace from her tormented past, and somehow I discerned it to be true.
Relieved at her transformation, I was beginning to realize what was happening.
Slowly I let out my breath…
What had been Mr. Tennyson started to leer at the young woman. Dread filled me, as I wondered what he was going to do. She seemed so defenseless against the ugliness and hate that I could see on his face. However, neither of them moved.
My terror subsiding, I watched in morbid fascination as more and more people walked toward the falling curtain of light, touching it, transforming.
Either I’m having the worst nightmare I’ve ever had… or I have died, and this is death.
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But how can this be a dream? It’s so real and I can feel the cold. The stone is hard under my hands and I can taste my fear.
I must be dead. But, if I’m dead, is this a place of transition from one life to the next? Is the curtain a device that reveals our true nature? This can’t be heaven. This isn’t at all what I learned in Sunday school! It’s so unfamiliar, so strange.
Please, let it be a dream!
I stood there, in a world that wasn’t mine, frightened, and wondered what is going to happen next. Was there more to the other side than just the transformation? I looked around for a way out, an escape, but I couldn’t find any.
Ducking down again, as low as I could get, I wrapped my arms around myself, holding my shaking body. I wiped fresh tears from my icy face with my arms, reluctant to let go of my trembling form.
I want to get out of here!
Almost everyone was transforming into demonic creatures, so few into angelic entities. What’s going to happen to me? It’s calling me, drawing me, pulling me. The urge is so strong. It’s like needing to breathe.
I closed my eyes.
But, how can I go? I know I’m ugly inside. I just know it! I can’t stand myself. I’ve done some awful things in my life. I’m not worthy… I don’t want to find out what I’m really like inside. Not this way. I’m not going… But how long can I stay here?
I wonder how God sees me?
I realized I didn’t know… I mean really know. My heart quaked in my spirit with the fear that I had not connected with Him well enough in my life. Was I his servant or mine? If the religious men of Jesus’ day, who worshiped God, and dedicated their lives to being men of faith, if they could miss the mark so badly, have I? Didn’t I just have a fight with my mother a while ago and tell her I hated her? Was that what God would want me to do? I concealed my anger and hurt toward my ex-husband, my mother, and my life. I never gave any of it over to the Lord or learned to forgive. What kind of a person am I, really? It’s too late to find out now!
The idea of going through that curtain made me ill, but I knew I would go… eventually… and I trembled.
Mr. Tennyson appeared to be a good man. I know he was a good man and yet… I didn’t dare look at the monster who had once been my teacher. He had been nice to me and all the students in his class. I really liked him. Why had this happened to him? It didn’t make sense.
Curling up into a tight ball, I wanted to disappear, to get out of here, to go home! I closed my eyes and cried again as I thought about the life I had lived, and I fought the pull from the pulsing, living light.
My mind wandered into my past. I had been so alone in life, raised by a domineering mother, in poverty, and want. I ran from her, as soon as I could, unknowingly into the arms of an egotistical, selfish, and heartless man. I seemed to be destined to live life in pain, loneliness, and unworthy of love. Why didn’t I do more to serve God with the life and time I had been given? Why can’t I feel His love, now? The only way to find out the truth is to walk through that light.
Glancing over the stone, through my tears, I could see the demonic crowd mingling, swelling, and encircling the few beautiful people who stood there. I felt the evil crowd’s hate and desire to destroy. Their demonic faces burned with anger and resentment, as they drew ever closer, snapping their teeth and snarling.
Dread sprang into my heart for the angelic few, but what could I do? I’m afraid of what will happen to me. What if I become deformed? What if it shows my anger and hate?
I couldn’t move. With a coward’s heart, its rhythm ever pounding, I pressed my cold face against the hard surface of the stone, closed my eyes, and wept.
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