Authors: Connie Almony
Flee From Evil
At the Edge of a Dark Forest--Sample Chapter
Flee from Evil
By Connie Almony
and
Cracked Door Publishing
Copyright 2015
Cover Design by Cracked Door Publishing Arts
ASIN: B0157EGC0K
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, posted on any website, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without permission from the author, except for brief quotations in printed reviews and articles.
Scripture taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSIONS ®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved.
The “NIV” and “New International Versions” trademarks are registered in the United States Parent and Trademark Office by International Bible Society. Use of either trademark requires the permission of International Bible Society.
This novel is a work of fiction. Any mention of real events, businesses, organization and locales is intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality. Names of characters, incidents, and dialogues are solely the product of this author’s imagination and are not expected to be considered real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
To my three sisters, Jody Kilmer, Kelley Burcham, and Jan Wisooker. Your love and encouragement have strengthened me. Your wisdom has enlightened me. Your care has protected me … And your personalities have given me plenty of fodder from which to paint colorful characters!!!
Thank you, Jesus!
And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose. (Romans 8:28)
Note on autism:
The character in this novel who has been diagnosed with the developmental disorder known as autism is in no way meant to represent the characteristics of all those who struggle with the effects of this disorder or the family members who care for them. This disorder takes many forms and the challenges are all unique to those dealing with it. The character, Tibo, was inspired by only one young man who has blessed me greatly. I praise God for the opportunity to know him as I do, and hope others will see him for his gifts as well.
Prologue
Dear Diary,
I can’t sleep. I had one of those dreams tonight. I don’t know why I call them dreams when they really are nightmares, but they carry a truth I don’t want to believe, while preparing me to deal with what’s to come. And even now, I’m left with a weird mixture of fear … and awe.
It’s been over a year since the last one, three days after my fourteenth birthday. The one I now know was telling me Daddy would die, preparing me for the grief, and reminding me to focus on eternity in spite of my temporary loss. I’d written about it in my journal the next morning (at least three notebooks ago), but I can’t seem to find it now. I think I lost that book in the move from Philadelphia.
And yet, I need to remember …
In the first dream, my entire family—Mom, Dad, my little brother, Tibo, and I—walked through a lush garden on a beautiful day. The sweet smell of honeysuckle saturated the air, birds sang in the trees, and a soft breeze tickled my skin. It was amazing how a dream could stir every sense the way this one did. Mom and Dad swung Tibo by his arms. He giggled so hard I thought he’d turn blue. Tibo’s body never seems to warn him of its limits like other kid’s bodies do—one of the many dysfunctions that come with his version of autism.
The wind picked up, whipping through our clothes and hair. The fluffy white clouds grew dark and full then lightning split the sky.
I looked to Daddy. He squeezed my shoulder, and gave me the
it’s okay
smile. The one he’d wear while handing me tissues as a little girl having a tear-fest over a lost stuffed animal or a fight with my best friend. Somehow, no matter how bad things were, that smile made everything right. I knew, at least, my Daddy loved me.
Just as my pulse slowed with the gesture, the wind grew fierce and the black clouds formed into scaly, dragon-like creatures that swooped down and around us with extensive oscillating wings, lifting us off our feet, and setting us back to earth. After my toes touched the ground, I scanned the garden for my dad, only to spy him in the taloned grip of one of the creatures as it flew toward the sun. My heart took off again as my mother clutched Tibo in a fit of hysterics. But Daddy gave me the smile once more. A tinge of melancholy laced his voice as he called out. “We’ll be together again soon, Sweetheart. Until then, lean on your heavenly Father.”
The clouds broke open, and amidst the brilliant beams of the sun’s rays pouring to the earth, all four creatures erupted into a glistening white reflected against the silver scales that covered their bodies, radiating a majestic beauty. Somehow, I knew my father was in good hands.
I think about his words, to lean on God, every day. I need to remind myself each morning since I no longer have an earthly father to support me. But what did he mean that he’d see me soon?
Was tonight’s dream the answer to that question?
Once again the vision placed us in the garden—only Mom, Tibo and me, this time. My little brother spun in circles, as he always does, only in this dream the spinning seemed to possess a purposefulness they’d never had before. Again, the sky turned dark, and the clouds formed creatures. Again, I was lifted with the wind, but rather than being settled back to earth, I found myself in the arms of a beast. A stretching distance yawned between myself and my family. Where was this creature taking me?
As the ominous form carried me through the sky, darkness and light flashed around me as though the two fought a heated battle against each other. Were they fighting for me? Were the creatures my enemy … or my protection?
What is God trying to tell me now? I’m afraid to ask. Am I going to die? Will I see my Daddy soon as he’d promised in the other dream?
I feel peace in the possibility. But my only concern, if this is truly the case, is who will care for Mom and Tibo when I’m gone?
Sophie
Chapter One
Cassandra strode through the parking lot, her kids, Sophie and Tibo, in tow. “I can’t believe you still go to this church, Mom.”
Mom lifted her brow. “You mean the redneck church?”
“I didn’t say that.” Cassandra’s ten-year-old son turned in a circle—one of his many autism perseverations. She pulled him along.
Mom tucked her purse under her arm. “But that’s what your fancy friends at that Country Club used to call it.”
Cassandra ground her teeth. “They weren’t my friends, Mom. They were patrons. I waitressed there, and that was a long time ago.”
Mom waved her hand. “Didn’t you hang out with a few?”
Cassandra shrugged to stave off the shiver her body ached to do. She didn’t want to go there. Too many bad memories. Tibo took another circle. Sophie, his fifteen-year-old sister, prodded him straight this time.
“You know Jesus was a redneck.”
Would her mother ever understand that Cassandra’s choice to get a college degree had nothing to do with placing herself above her family, as Mom always seemed to suggest. She just loved the study of things, and knew God chose each to follow different paths with different goals, all for the same glory.
Mom’s chin hitched higher. “That’s okay. Since Pastor Vince started here, we’ve become very diverse. His goal was to make us look more like the body of Christ. You know, different parts with different functions, all working in the same body.”
Huh? Did Mom just pick those words from her brain. Cassandra might just like the new associate pastor.
“But even so, we’ve kind of adopted the term, redneck. It was first used for field workers with sunburned backs, so we take it to mean hard-working and down-to-earth. At least that’s what Pastor Vince always says. You’ll love Pastor Vince. I think he’s leading the sermon this morning.”
Cassandra sighed. The words
you’ll love Pastor Vince
seemed her mother’s mantra these days.
“He’s cute. He’s single.”
“Mom—”
“And he’s refined. Well educated. Just your type.”
So maybe he didn’t look like a Duck Dynasty knock-off. “And a former drug dealer as I recall you mentioning.”
“Yes, a forgiven sinner.”
Or a man capitalizing on his wastrel youth.
“Mom, I’m not looking to replace Tim.” There’d never be another Tim. He had everything the world could offer in terms of physical possessions and still willing to give it all away. That’s why his parents had always kept a tight rein on his earnings at their pharmaceuticals company. Why had Tim let them control his life? Cassandra guessed he’d hoped they’d come to know Jesus one day like he had in college.
Finally reaching the front steps of the church, Cassandra and her mom shook hands with the greeters.
Patting Mom’s arm, Cassandra said, “I’ll take Tibo to Children’s Church.” She released a breath. “And explain everything.”
Mom pointed. “Down that hall, first door on the right. I already gave the teacher the heads up about Tibo. He’ll be fine.”
Cassandra wasn’t convinced. She wished she’d interviewed the woman before they came, but with the move from the large home she’d lived in with her husband of almost 16 years, back to her home town of Water’s Edge, Maryland, she’d been a bit preoccupied.
She squeezed her son’s hand, and peered at the blond hair and profile so much like her late husband’s. “Your Daddy loved you so much.”
If only she could be certain Tibo understood.
“Much,” he repeated, as he usually did the last word of her sentences.
After introducing herself to the Children’s Church leader, and enduring the look of fear at the word
autism,
Cassandra assured the woman her son was docile and wouldn’t cause any trouble. Hadn’t her mother already explained this? More questions followed. Cassandra answered each, and gave the teacher her cell number, promising to keep it on despite the rule of no phones on during the service.
Exiting the room on a sigh, she glanced at her watch then stopped at the closed sanctuary door. The minister’s voice murmured from the other side. Not the familiar rasp of the senior pastor, Pastor John, whom she’d grown accustomed to as a child attending Water’s Edge Community Church. Something about the tone gave her gooseflesh. Smooth and silky—like a scam artist’s voice, selling a bill of goods she didn’t need to buy. Boy, she was predisposed not to like this guy. Was it because her mother wanted to fix them up?
