This short story is a retelling of the Bible story from Luke 1:26-38. Readers do not need to be familiar with the Bible to understand and in no way am I trying to convince people to convert to Christianity. Direct quotes from the Easy-to-Read version of the Bible are present. Mary had never considered herself special. She was like most girls her age in Nazareth. She was a dutiful daughter. She tried her best to be faithful to God. Like many of her friends, she was about to be married to an older man. There was one thing Mary did that she thought made her unique, but she wouldn't go as far as to claim she was "special." Some days, when the sun was searing the rough, dusty earth and her parents did not need her assistance, Mary would slip off to the cool shade of the palm tree hidden behind her father's shop. Her father had paid a fortune for this little refuge and Mary was determined to make good use of the haven. She would often see the other girls in the city with sweat slipping down their foreheads and she would feel grateful, although guiltily, for her hideout. Today though, more than just the desire to escape from the sun hovered in the back of her mind. The future was finally sinking in. She was being married. She threw herself onto the gravel. Pebbles buried themselves into her belly, but Mary hardly cared. Although the familiar shadows of the palm tree embraced her small body and painted her simple brown tunic a richer shade, she felt like she was burning. This retreat was usually a place of content and coolness, a location only she and her parents knew, but on this day, this shelter could not console her. She watched an ant crawl across a stone. I'm being silly, Mary thought to herself. Most of my friends are being married, too. Some of them already are and they're fine. A pang of sadness launched into her stomach. She would be separated from her parents, from this tree. "Hey, are you okay?" Mary's heart jumped in her chest and she whirled around to see who had spoken. A glowing figure floated a few feet above her. Terror rushed into her brain and she backed up against the scaly bark of the palm tree. Trembling, she gazed up at the person. "Wh-who are you?" she stammered. The figure, which Mary now noticed had large white wings, smiled down at her and continued to glisten warmly in the air. "I am a messenger. The Lord has sent me. You are very special to him." "What?" Mary breathed. She gripped onto her tunic in hopes to calm her quivering hands. "I'm sorry. I don't understand." The messenger, still shimmering, lowered to the ground and crouched before her. They peered up at her, their dark brown eyes gentle. "It's okay that you are frightened, Mary. I am here to comfort you. God is very pleased. Listen! You will become pregnant and have a baby boy. You will name him Jesus. People will call him the Son of the Most High God, and the Lord God will make him king like his ancestor David. He will rule over the people of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end." Still shivering, Mary knelt in front of the messenger. She stared at the coarse ground. "I don't think that is possible. I've never had a baby before," she whispered. "I'm still a virgin." Plus, she thought, there's nothing fascinating about me. All I have is a palm tree. Mary expected the messenger to laugh, but instead they shook their head. "The Holy Spirit will come to you, and the power of the Most High God will cover you. The baby will be holy and will be called the Son of God." The messenger glanced around them, as if to check for eavesdroppers, before continuing. "And here's something else: Your relative Elizabeth is pregnant. She is very old, but she is going to have a son. Everyone thought she could not have a baby, but she has been pregnant now for six months. God can do anything!" Mary chuckled and the messenger grinned at her. "Really?" she asked. Her body had stopped shaking. "It's true," they said. Mary sat down on her bottom. She knew what the messenger was saying was preposterous. How could she, an average girl from Nazareth, ever become the mother of someone so great? Then again, Mary had been taught at a young age to listen to and respect God's wishes. Only God would have the ability to send a sparkling messenger to Earth. "Okay." Mary looked up and met the messenger's kind eyes. "I am the Lord's servant. Let this thing you have said happen to me." The messenger beamed at her and then faded away. With that, Mary was, once again, alone at the base of the palm tree. Thank you for reading! If you like my story, please don't be afraid to give it a share. Comments are always welcome and I love hearing your thoughts. Question: When was a time you felt scared of the future?
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Rosa loved to paint fishes. Everyday after school, she would trot back to her house with ideas swirling around in her mind. She pondered the exact shade of pink she would use that day. Whether the background would be a sunset or the stars. Most importantly, she debated where her masterpiece would hang. In Rosa's bedroom-- well, the bedroom she had to share with her three-year-younger sister Tsunami-- the walls were plastered with her paintings. Her fathers teased her about it incessantly, however, they never refused when she prompted them to hang up another one. Today, Rosa knew exactly what she was going to paint and where she would place it. With her heart bouncing, she scurried down the sidewalk and away from her elementary school. The late Winter wind rustled her frizzy black hair and Rosa felt light as if she could drift off with the breeze. Before she knew it, she was at the door of her apartment house. She scampered up the stairs and threw open the door. She let her backpack thud on the welcome mat and she brushed past her father (or tatay, as she and her siblings called him) as he tried to ask her about her day. She dashed into her bedroom and slid into the smooth, wooden chair at her desk. Finally, Rosa pulled out her watercolors and paper from the drawer and began her piece. Two hours later, Rosa was finished. She smiled down at her newest fish, a bright gold one inspired by the pictures of koi her second grade teacher had shown the class earlier that day. The background was light blue and Rosa yearned to float alongside the fish in that tranquil, shimmering water. I'm going to get a snack, she thought to herself. She left her seat and slipped past four-year-old Tsunami who was just entering Rosa's bedroom. Rosa turned left into the kitchen where her tatay was at the table typing on his laptop. He looked up as she entered. "You were in a rush today," he said, smiling. Rosa nodded. "Yeah. I had a really good idea. Ooh, can you help me hang it up later?" "Sure," her tatay said. "Where?" "Right on the window so it can get the sun's light." After Rosa had washed her hands and gotten herself a small bowl of Goldfish crackers, she returned to her bedroom. She glanced at the desk. The painting of the golden fish was gone. Immediately, Rosa jerked her head in the direction of Tsunami. The younger girl was sitting on her bed with the art piece. Rosa marched over to her little sister. "That's my painting! I'm the one who made it." Tsunami gazed up at her with wide dark brown eyes. "But it's so pretty. You left it on the desk." Rosa slammed her bowl on Tsunami's bed. A few Goldfish fell onto the sheets. "But it's mine!" Tsunami crossed her arms. "You never share your paintings." Rosa stalked over to the opposite side of the room and with a sharp tearing noise, she peeled off the wall a drawing of a green fish. "You can have this one then." "But I don't like that one, Rosa. I want this one." Rosa opened her mouth to retort, but the thumps of footsteps stopped her. She twisted around to see her tatay enter the room with his hands on his hips. "Tsunami, Rosa, please keep your voices down. There are people upstairs." He sighed. "Now, Tsunami, can you explain to me why you both are shouting?" Tsunami glared at Rosa. "She won't give me her painting." "Because I created it," Rosa hissed. "Also, she just snatched it." Their tatay took a deep breath. "Tsunami, Rosa did spend a lot of time on this drawing, so please make sure to check with her before taking it." Rosa smirked at her younger sister. "But, Rosa," their tatay continued. "You make so many beautiful things and I can see the love you put into your work. It's a shame you don't share your pieces." With that, he left the room. Rosa's heart sank lower into her body. She didn't want to give up any of her paintings. She had put so much effort into them. Why couldn't she simply share her Goldfish with Tsunami instead of her artwork? But Rosa knew her tatay was usually right about things and he had always supported her painting. It was because of him she had that desk and those watercolors and paper in the first place. Also, it wasn't like Tsunami hated her art piece. "Hey," Rosa said slowly. Her sister peered at her. "You can have my painting." Thank you for reading! If you like my story, please don't be afraid to give it a share. Comments are always welcome and I love hearing your thoughts. Question: When was a time you gave up something you loved?
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AuthorI'm Darcy Ridge, creating stories that all revolve around family and identity in a myriad of ways. In the past, I have shared multiple stories and published a novella online. You can find me on Wattpad and many other social media websites. They/them [Image Description: black background with the words "Social Justice and Mental Health Resources" in white in the center /end ID]
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