Scarlet Robe Creations

He opened his eyes, although he wasn't certain they were ever really closed.  He sat in a chair, neither comfortable nor uncomfortable.  An open field surrounded him.  Green grass and wild flowers of yellows and purples stretched to the horizon.  The only interruption, a blemish, on the idyllic scene, was another man in a chair facing his. The other man seemed out of focus.  His features were unclear.  The first man, the one who had just opened his eyes, tried to identify the man who was little more than a blemish against the meadow. "Who are you?" He asked, not expecting an answer, as the idea that he was in a dream brought on by... that was it... the accident.  He'd been driving too fast.  He lost control of his Ferrari. 'That was a fantastic car,' he mused, forgetting about the man, without discernable features, sitting across from him. "What have you done with that which I have given you?" The out of focus man finally spoke. The Ferrari, yes, ...

This story is a prequel to the novel 'Afternoons with Mister D'   An early October day.  The leaves were changing.  A maple, marking the location they arrived at, had turned golden a few weeks ago.  Already it had dumped nearly all of its ornamentation.  Two young men, friends since the days of grammar school, stood beside a rectangular boundary of light green grass, planted at the end of summer. "I'm joining the seminary," One of them said.  His name was Jimmy Klein.  He'd graduated high school a little less than a year and a half ago.  He delayed going to college.  His friend, the one beside him, Nicolas, was beginning his second year at a state college. "You talked about taking that road when we were Freshmen in high school," Nicolas said. "Yeah... then second year came... Cross Country..." "I remember." Nicolas scuffed the grass with the soul of his shoe.  To everyone around him, he was known as Nick, or Nicolas D.  No one eve...

She lays upon the plain white sheets, ones that crinkle with every movement, but she hasn’t shifted a muscle in three days.     How long does the body last without water… food?   That’s all she has, a body, trapping a mind not quite ready to slip off into oblivion.   She has fought for every second, every minute, every day.   Still, for all her clinging, the inevitable bears down on her, a darkness she can’t conquer.   She hears voices, some distant and unfamiliar.   Her Jonathan is there, sitting by her bedside, as she told him he should be.   His purpose is to care for his mother.   He never married.   She wouldn’t let him.   If he had found a woman he would have become like his older brother, James.   Her eldest son has a wife and two daughters.   She has only a handful of pictures as memories of her only grandchildren.   Her daughter-in-law is to blame, turning a son against his mother and toward relig...

  The trail led less than a half mile from the road.   He crossed the gorge over the scenic bridge and followed the path on the far side until he reached Falls Pond.   He sat on the moss covered bench at the water’s edge and placed his backpack on the seat beside him. Abby loved this place. The solitude of a late spring morning surrounded him.   In the summer, vacationing families will claim the trails.   Children will run to the water’s edge, then quickly move on, bored with the reflections of mountains on the water’s surface. ‘You’re alone?” He heard her voice, though she was not present. “A veteran?” She asked.   A soul scarred by tours into hell. He unfastened the clasps on the front of his backpack and removed a wooden container.   He surveyed the trails to his left and right.   He did not want to be interrupted. He closed his eyes and held back a small tear.   She was wounded as he.   She had scarred her arms in the desir...

I was at a funeral service this weekend  for an individual who believed that death was nothing more than death.   The lack of God in life, the lack of God in the afterlife.   It's impossible for me to relate to that way of existence ,   to believe we are nothing more than the foundations we have built on this soil. Salt without flavor, the spiritually lost, standing only on the ground where you toil, without faith, without the embrace of eternal love. Can salt regain its taste after being trampled underfoot in littered streets? Is death simply death without being preserved by salt? You are the salt on the earth. Your desire to believe makes you vibrant, a great joy in the eye of the Lord. Go out and enhance the faith of other, but do not lose your knowledge of God, setting your foundations on things of the soil and not Heaven. copyright 2017 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./auth...

Death, where is your victory? Where is your sting? 1 Corinthians 15:55   Death, you have me no longer in your withered grasp. The lamb has been slain and risen again in more glory than darkness will ever perceive.  You have no victory. He has defeated every effort made against Him. Your sting is but a mild irritant, because His tomb is empty. Death, you have no claim on me. Break me, fill me with vile disease, still I will rise to walk beside my Lord in the garden once forsaken.  copyright 2017 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author