A Painted Smile On a Plastic Face

A story of reality, please read only if you plan to finish, hear all that I have to say, it doesn't have to be at one time just finish it.

            Let me tell you a story. I must warn you though, this is more than just a story. With a story you can laugh or cry and when its over go on with your life. At the end of this story you will have to make a choice, you will have to choose a path. No more will you be able to use ignorance as an excuse, no more can you live in your apathetic bliss. I warn you reader that even now you are making a choice, a choice to continue to read and test yourself, or attempt to continue in your bliss but always wonder what the final choice is. I ask only one thing in return, when you start reading you hear me through and do not stop till all is said.The choice is yours reader...

This is a story about an average teenage boy. He lives, breaths, goes to school, acts and thinks like all average guys do. He has the same daily routine just as everyone else does, he wakes up, he eats, he showers, he goes to school, survives the mundane classes and the pains of living in high-school. His name is Jake

Now reader you might be asking why I am telling you about such an uneventful person such as Jake, there is a reason to this however. You see Jake wears a mask that he never takes off before other people. This mask is different from the masks that you are used to reader as it looks just like a human face. It smiles, it laughs, it moves and does everything that a real face does. Jake wears this mask at school at, to the skatepark, to the coffee shop, at home, anywhere other people are around and no one is the wiser. No one knows about the mask, in fact most people don't notice Jake. Jake only takes off the mask when he is alone. Alone in his room he walks into his bathroom, turns on the light and looks into the mirror. There is something different though when Jake sees the mask. Jake doesn't see what everyone else sees, no, everyone else sees a face, Jake sees a crude plastic mask with a face smile painted on it. He hates the mask, because he knows its false. Alone in his bathroom Jake grabs the edges of the mask and struggles to pull it off. He fights and pulls and claws until he finally tears it from his face and flings it across the room into a dirty corner. Again he looks into the mirror. This time he sees a scared little child, afraid, alone, hurting.  He looks at the mask in the corner, its crude resemblance of his face with the corners of the painted mouth twisted into a wicked grin. It laughs at him because it know he needs it. He needs to to hide his pain, his failures, his weakness, and his fears. To hide them so know one knows. No one can know about them or the mask. the secret must be kept in the solitude of his room. The mask whispers in his mind. it speaks in a hoarse chilling voice.

"You let me sit here now but tomorrow you will pick me up and put me back on, just as every other day."

"Shut up!" Jake yells as white hot tears sting his eyes. "I hate you!" 

"But you need me." the mask rasps in reply. "You need me, without me you are nothing. No one wants to see your real face, and you don't want them to. The reason is because no one cares about your problems, no one cares about your feelings. If anyone saw your real face they would laugh at you for being weak. If you let anyone know they will use you, wad you up and discard you like a the piece of trash you are. No you can't leave me here, you need me." Jake slams the bathroom door locking the mask inside. He can still hear its voice in his head. Thats the problem with things that only talk in your head, no matter how loud you turn up your music, no matter how far you run, you still hear it. 

"See you in the morning Jake," the mask says to him, "you know where to find me." All night long Jake tries to sleeps but he ends up tossing and turning in bed.  He can't escape the words of the mask as they replay over and over again, boring into him like a rusty dagger plunged to the hilt and twisted over and over again. The painted smile ever present in his minds eyes, laughing, sneering, mocking him until finally the black oblivion takes over and the pain fades into numb complacent sleep.

The alarm clock pierces the apathy like shrapnel, bringing warm darkness into the cold harshness of that little thing we call reality. The pains of remembrance from last night and nights past come rushing back turning his stomach sour. He walks into to the bathroom steps into the shower. Icy water lunges out of shower head biting stinging, a bitter reminder of his current state. His parents were divorced, his mom wasn't able to pay her bills sometimes so the hot water was shut off to save on electricity. The water stole his breath at first but he got used to it, sort of. You never get used to the pain, no matter how long it hurts it will always be there, a dull ache at best. He steps out of the shower and looks into the mirror, his eyes make contact with the eyes of the boy in the mirror but then he looks away. He can't bear to look. He reaches down picks up the mask without a thought. In the fluid motion of routine he slips it on. It molds over his face in a fluid motion. This is how it is this is how it should be. He felt the mask take over him as it did every morning. Instead of red eyes and tearstained cheeks he sees the mask mock a regular face. He hated looking at it as well. 

"Do you have your bag packed for your dad's tonight?" His mom asks as he walks into the kitchen. He mumbles an affirmative in reply. Breakfast passes quickly as he wolfs down the food in order to get out of the house as quickly as possible. He didn't like being at home, if you could call it home. It was quite now. the silence was almost as unbearable as hearing his parents arguing at night. His mom would say something, his dad would yell back they would start arguing, every once in a while he would hear a dish shatter followed by the slamming of the garage door and the engine of his dads truck start up. One night he just didn't come back. He stayed in a hotel until he found an apartment. Then worse than arguing at home was the process of the divorce. His parents and lawyers battling it out for whatever they could get out of the other. Every week he went back and forth between them. His parents didn't know about his sleepless nights listening, that he had heard every word, every breath that past between their lips. He remembered who said what, every outburst, every cold silence. It was scripted like a play in his mind. A play he knew by heart. that he was the audience doomed to watch over and over again, glued to his seat unable to leave unable to escape. They didn't know because the mask concealed it. The mask kept secret the pain, the hurt, the anger.

 

The door slammed behind him. The wind was cool as it touched his skin. He walked down the street the way he did everyday. He didn't even process what was happening, the mask walked more than he did really. He past people who didn't know him, didn't care, didn't notice. He wanted to tell someone. He wanted to grab one of the strangers and yell at them, tell them to pay attention, can't they see that I'm wearing a mask? But he keep walking as the mask wanted him to. He put one foot in front of the other just like he did everyday. 

"Hey son!" a voice called out. It was a middle aged man dressed in a green button up shirt and slacks, in his hand he held a black leather bound book with shiny gold trimmed pages and gold letters on the spine. 

"Son, has anyone ever given you a gift?" the man asked.

"Yeah pops its called birthdays and Christmas" He heard his voice snap back. Yet it wasn't him saying it it was the mask. It was the mask that was just passing outspoken stranger by. Something in him wanted to talk to the man. Why did he notice. 

"Hold up son, don't you have a minute? the man asked, 

"No!" says the mask in sharp reply "I'm late for school." 

"Well heres the best gift anyone will ever give you. One for the road." Says the man as he hands Jake a slip of paper. "Oh and God bless"

"Thanks John Paul." the mask says as it takes the paper and crams it without a glance into Jake's pocket. The letters flashing gold burned into his memory. 

"Hypocrite Christians!" He hears the mask say in his head. Jake couldn't figure out what was different about that man. 

"What?" the mask shouts in his head so loudly it almost hurt. "You think that those Bible thumping goody two shoes would actually help you? After what you've done? With what you do? No they are hypocrites! they say they love everyone but only if you follow their rules, give them all your money and live life in as a monk thumping that book around," the gold letters burned in his mind, "and even then they don't even follow their own rules. The difference between them and you is they go to church on sunday." The mask was right he thinks. Its always right. Why would they care? they would just look down on him. That was the last thing he needed was the weight of a the shadow of a steeple bearing down on him and a whole group of people looking at him like he had the plague and was the portal to hell or something like that. Without the mask he was nothing. The mask was the only thing that kept him some what popular. He needed the mask.

Bang! the slamming of lockers ricochetted through his thoughts.  Just another day in school. Try to avoid certain people, hide the fact that his clothes were Walmart-clearance-quality, and draw as little attention to himself in anyway that could bring down the ridiculing remarks. This is where the mask came in. The mask was the only way he could be like them.  Like everyone else. everyone else was happy all the time, no cares about life except for next Saturday's party and who was dating who this week. None of them were hurting, they weren't fighting to survive tragedy. They were living the dream. They had all the friends, the looks, the clothes, the cars, and the girls. Girls didn't talk to Jake for the most part, they didn't seem to notice that he existed. More and more he tried to shape the mask in a way that would make them like him. 

More and more the mask became someone else, it wasn't him that walked through the halls, it was the mask. He had no friends, only the mask and the friends the mask had. The mask was everything to him. The mask was his only way to hide the pain and make everyone think that he was just like them, happy, fun, energetic. He had trained the mask to say the right things, walk and talk the right way. The mask had learned to play guitar to try to impress people. The mask listened to the music everyone else did so it would have something in common. It watched the TV shows, it told the jokes. Without the mask he was nothing. 

He survived the school day, when he got home his mom wasn't there. She was still at work. She was always working it seemed. It didn't matter though, he didn't need her, he didn't want to talk to her, the mask didn't want him to. He needed the mask. Jake grabbed his bag, locked the front door and headed for his dad's. When he opened the front door the rank smell of body oder mixed with burn't TV dinner and beer filled his nose.  His dad lay on the couch, passed out. The bud light bottle in his hand near the floor had emptied its remaining contents into a carmel colored puddle on the stained cement floor. He was drunk again. He had been this way since his parents had started fighting.  He would get drunk and sleep. That was on a good night. If Jake woke him up on a bad night it was a different story. Objects would fly, words would slur and fists would sling out. Jake walked quietly past him shut off the oven but didn't open the door, the last thing he needed was the smoke detector going off. He looked in the fridge for something that wasn't expired and hadn't been bitten into yet. He finally found an almost empty bucket of KFC in the back of the fridge. He walked back through the living room passing his intoxicated father. when he looked down something deep inside him wanted to cry, wanted to wake his dad up and say "dad its me, Jake, why are you doing this? Why don't you care?" but the mask ever present held that him back. 

"What do think he'd do? Open his arms wide and hug you? thank you for pulling his life together? Don't you remember? Have you forgotten the bruises? the scars from your fathers hands. All you are to him is a child support check. He hates you and you hate him. Don't you remember? He was the one who left. He left you and your mother. He doesn't want you. No one does. If you let him know you are weak he will destroy you. You wouldn't survive here with out me." The mask walked by Jake's father, the mask walked down the hallway, the mask shut his bedroom door, locked it and braced the chair against the knob and slid the little metal bar through the hole he had drilled into the oak door into the door frame. It was the closest he could get to having a dead bolt with out his father seeing it and dismantling it when he was gone. Again he was alone. he saw the mask in the little vanity mirror in the corner of the room. Its wicked painted smile ever present, ever a reminder of his need to hide. The mask walked over to the dresser and emptied his pockets onto it. It then slung jakes school bag down on the floor. and jumped landing smoothly on the bed. Had anyone seen it they would have been impressed, the mask was always smooth.

 It lay there for a few minutes. Then suddenly the calmness ended. Jake lunged at the mask grabbing it like a vicious animal clawing at his face, each time the struggle was harder, each time harder to be himself. The mask attached like industrial glue to his face resisting every attempt. Finally he tears it free and throws it across the room and begins to cry. Tears held in so long come out. But they bring no relief. No comfort comes from a salty rain when your heart is lacerated all over. It just burns like fire. All the while the mask looks on and grins, it laughs at his pain, at his sorrow. 

"Your weak" it mocks, "weak and pathetic, with out me you would be hopeless and gone"

"I hate you!" Jake screams "there has to be something better than this, better than you." 

"Wrong!" the mask taunts "nothing in your life will get better than this, I am the best you will ever get."

"But you aren't me! Your nothing like me! I am a person! I am someone!"

"No you aren't like me, and I am fortunately not like you! No one likes you, no one cares about you, I am the only thing that people like. No one ever has or ever will like you not in this life"

"not in this life." Jake mumble to himself, he rolled over to the edge of the bed and plunged his hand into the pile of clothes under the bed until he found what he was looking for. a shoe box, he reached his hand inside and grasped the cold steel object inside. His fingers slid around the grip slowly and unsure of whether they wanted to continue holding it or not. Then they clamped like a vice. He began to sweat and shake. Hot tears stung his eyes. He couldn't breath, he felt sick, he wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to throw up, he wanted to run. He wanted to pull the thing out from under the bed. But he couldn't, not tonight, not yet. He let go as if it were on fire, blazing hot. He grasped his wrist and stared at his hand as if he would see its shape burned in his hand. 

"Your weak," said the mask. "Your just weak." Jake just laid there, like an empty broken vase.

  The next day was like any other day before. Jake woke up showered. Got dressed. And like every morning, he put on the mask, he felt it reach out like tendrils and grip his face. Rippling as it melded over his features. No one else but him could see the wicked smile, its mocking sneer, painted in red over the mouth of the mask. Only he could hear it as it constantly reminded him of what he was and was not. Only he knew. More and more he felt that the mask was getting tighter, making it harder to breath, suffocating him little by little. 

The day was like any other. He walked to school passing face after face, non seemed broken, nor distraught, they seemed occupied and happy. Another day of school just like any other, but then chemistry came. the teacher was sick and no sub was available so everyone just had to sit and read their text books. In front of Jake was a girl with medium length reddish brown hair, fair skin and normal body type. Her name was Christine. Christine was everything that the mask hated and avoided being like. She didn't fit in. She carried a black leather bound book with shiny gold trimmed pages and gold letters. the same letters as the book man on the street had. She never swore, she didn't go to the parties, she didn't listen to the music everyone else did, she didn't watch the same TV shows.  She didn't make fun of people, she didn't even retaliate when taunted. The mask liked picking on her, it knew that it made him look better. No one else liked her, she was a Jesus Freak, she went to church, prayed before she ate, and read the book constantly. Today was the day though he had the opportunity to make himself a name among the others. the mask told him to do it. Christine got up and went to the bathroom. there was no one but other students in the room. the mask whispered again and again,

"Now's your chance, do it now and they will respect you."  His heart pounded as he slowly got up, all eyes turned to him, he picked up Christine's textbooks and walked to the edge of the classroom. He turned on the chemical wash sink and dumped the arm load in. As the books fell into their watery demise Jake caught a flash of the golden words. The words that burned in his consciousness, deeper than even the mask reached. the mask smile as everyone in the room hooted and applauded him. He was their hero, he had played the prank of the school year right then right there. He took his seat and people slapped him on the back. they all waited anciently for Christine to return to see the look on her face. The mask smiled wide, it was time to see how far the bible thumpers love reached. She would probably tell the principle and get him suspended but that would only give him more credibility. But it wasn't him, it was the mask, it was the mask that wanted it. He didn't want to do it but the mask wanted to fit in. Because of the mask he had done it. After a minute she came back. She walked to her seat and stood looking confused. Then she saw them in the sink. Sopping wet, pages tearing and falling apart. She walked over with an expressionless face. Slowly she reached down and picked up the black leather book. When she did the pages ripped out and fell into a wet mass on the floor. Laughter burst out in the class room, he heard his own voice among it but it sounded hollow to him, it was the mask laughing. Why had he done this? Sure it made him fit in but was he really capable of doing that? Of being so mean to someone. The mask was, the mask would do anything. Christine's eyes welled with tears, she slowly bent don and picked up the wad of saturated pages and put them with the rest of her of what was left of her books into her bag and walked out of the room. 

"Watch her squeal like a little rat, so much for love, haha! that was brilliant Jake! Brilliant! Now we have it made. I got you in to the in crowd. Two birds with one stone, your popular now and you broke the poser's guise"  Now he had only to wait. All through his classes he waited. Every time he heard the intercom he expect to hear his name being called to the principles office, walking down the hall way every footstep was that of a school employee coming to summon him to be punished. He waited minute by minute, hour by hour, class by class, and period by period. But nothing happened. No voice over the intercom, no person, no slip of paper. He walked back to his locker. It was the end of the day, he was footsteps from freedom for today. He turned the dial, until the lock clicked and opened the door. There on top of his stuff was a torn slip of paper, it had been shoved through the slots in his locker. He picked it up with trembling hands and unfolded it. there written in Christine's handwriting in black cursive letters, "I forgive you." Instantly the mask closed his hand crushing the paper. 

"We don't need forgiveness, we aren't even sorry. who does that Jesus freak think she is?!"  He slammed the locker door and walked out of the school. He felt like the mask moved his feet. The mask reached in his bag and pulled out his ipod put in his headphones and cranked up the music. Electric guitars shrieked through his head, base riffs pounded his ear drums, Double pedals thundered in his ears and snare drums ricochetted through his head like bullets. It was trying to drown out his thoughts. He didn't want to think about what he had done, or Christine's, or the gold words or the note. The mask was suffocating, it tried to squeeze the life out of him. His feet were like lead, his mouth like sand. Every second that passed was an eternity. everybody who passed seemed to glare at him. He felt sick. When he got home his dad was gone. It was a friday he was probably at the bar and wouldn't be home till late. Jake ran back to his room and locked the door, barred it with chair and metal rods. He ripped out the headphones and grabbed the mask trying to wrench it from his face. It seemed that every tendril he broke free from two more latched on. They seemed to take the flesh with them from his face. He felt to the floor and spasmed in a desperate attempt to get the mask off knocking over the night stand and sending the lamp crashing to the floor. To no avail. He could fight it no longer and lay panting on the floor in the dimming light. It began to taunt him. 

"Your weak Jake, weak. Are you going to let that stupid Christian ruin your victory today, she doesn't care about you, no one does Jake, I am your only friend. You have no one but me and with out me you are nothing!"  

"No!" Jake screamed, "there has to be better than this."

"But there isn't!  the mask yelled back its voice a horrible screeching grow "There isn't any better than this, who do you think would give you any better?

"Christine is different after what I did to her she forgave me! That man on the street is different! He wanted to talk to me even after I brushed him off!"

"You fool, do you really think the Christians would help you? No they won't! Not if they find out who you really are! Or have you forgotten Jake? Have you forgotten every night that you got on the computer and looked at all those things, all that porn? Have you forgotten how many times you have stolen money from your parents? Or things from peoples lockers when they forget to close them? Or all the lies you have told. What are you now Jake? What are those scars on your wrist? What are you Jake? You are a pervert! Your a dirty filthy, lying, stealing, cutting, pervert! And you thought for minute that they would accept you? No Jake your alone, you have no one but me! there is nothing better in this life for you, this is how it is, this is how it always will be, there is no such thing as forgiveness, no easing of your burdens. Nothing of the kind in this life."

 "In this life." Jake mumbled. Just like the night before he reached under his bed, all the pain anguish and sickness hitting him like a tsunami. He found the box. He reached inside. The mask guiding every move ensuring he did not stray from the course. The cold metal burned like fire as he closed his grip on it again. He pulled it out and looked at it. The black gun metal revolver glinted dimly in the bleakly lit room. He had kept it hidden incase his dad became to angry but now it wasn't his dad he feared. He opened the chamber and checked for the bullet. It was there. He locked the chamber back in place and slowly pulled back the hammer.

"Come on weakling!"  The mask shrieked, as loud as an amplifier in his head. "Come on do it, prove that you can at least do this."  Images flashed through his head at a dizzying rate. All the things the mask had said ran through his head, every word his parents had said in fights rang clear as if they were outside his door now, the pain he felt every time he looked in the mirror. The sickness he felt late at night when he was alone all of it came back as he felt the barrel of the revolver pressed to his temple. Blinding hot tears ran from his eyes. The gold letters flashed in his head again and again, over and over, the words 'Holy Bible' glinted in brilliant light, the note as well 'I forgive you' "you're worthless!" the mask screamed at him again and again. He opened his eyes and looked in the mirror. The mask was sneering with blood red lips. It wanted him to pull the trigger. It wanted him to take his life. It wanted him to have no hope. The mask said it was his only friend, but it wasn't his friend, it wanted him to hurt, it didn't want him to find a way out. He looked around the room for any escape. But there was nothing but darkness and grime.

"Son, has anyone ever given you a gift?" the man asked.

He felt his finger tighten on the trigger.

"Yeah pops its called birthdays and Christmas" He heard his voice snap back. Yet it wasn't him saying it it was the mask. It was the mask that was just passing outspoken stranger by. Something in him wanted to talk to the man. Why did he notice Jake? 

He looked desperately for something.

"Hold up son, don't you have a minute? the man asked, 

"No!" says the mask in sharp reply "I'm late for school." 

For a reason not to pull the trigger. Not to die.

"Well heres the best gift anyone will ever give you. One for the road." Says the man as he hands Jake a slip of paper.

Then light came into the room, it came to rest on his dresser. There in the setting sun light he saw a crumpled piece of paper. could think the gun flew across the room and shattered the mirror. The shards fell sending dazzling  sparkles through the room. The mask shrieked a high pitched scream deafening, but the last words the man had said were even louder. Why would the man give him a gift? What was this gift? The mask tightened its grip. He grasped the paper and uncrumpled it. On the front it said "there is no greater love than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." John 15:13 and "Love consists of this, not that we loved God, But that he love us and sent his son as payment for our sins." John 14:10. 

He then turned the page and read "'for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God'   "You have definitely fallen short with everything you've done" retorted the mask

'For the wages of sin is death.' 

"You hear that Jake? Death is what you deserve! Pick up the gun and finish it!" He read on

'God demonstrates His own love for us in this, while we were still sinners Christ died for our sins.' 

"Finish it Jake! This is all a lie! none of it is true! No one cares for you!"

'everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved' 

"Finish it!"

"Shut up!" Jake yelled, "Dear Go...

"Jake! Pick up the Gun!"

"Dear God! I have

"Jake!" it constricted tighter

"I have failed time and ti...

"You are worthless, you're trash!"

"again and again, and I am sor..."

"The only thing left is death Jake" Jake grabbed the corners of the mask struggling, striving, thrashing, the mask shrieked, it was ear splitting.

"I NEED YOU GOD! HELP ME GET FREE!"

Then there was silence, the room faded away, Jake found himself laying not on his bed but on dusty, rocky ground. He looked up and before him was a rough wooden cross. In one hand the track in the other the mask.

"This is the cross on which I died Jake." the voice came from behind him. He turned to see a man, dressed in white. Jake had never seen Him before in his life but something about Him, Jake felt as if this man is who he had been searching for all his life. this is the one person who cares.

"Jake I died for you on this cross, because I love you and I want you to be with me, to be my son."

"But why? Why me? After all I've done, all the times I failed, the mask said...

"Jake the mask no longer controls you, when I died I took your mask and the mask everyone wears on my self, I took their voices, their hatred, their malice, I took it for you and it all died with me. But I came back, and so have you."

"But how?

"It says in the in My Word 'Because if you confess with your mouths that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For with the heart one believes and is justified, and with the mouth one confesses and is saved' You called out to me Jake, you confessed your sin and you believed that I could help you. there is one last thing Jake 'Behold I stand at the door and knock, if any one hears my voice and opens the door, I will come into him.' Jake, I am knocking will you let me in? Give me the mask and you will be free." With this the Man reached out his hand and held out an upturned palm. In the center of his palm was a circular scar where His hand had been pierced. Jake looked at the hand then at the mask. He slowly reached out and placed it in His held out hand.

"Yes... Come in... Jesus.

"Jake you are now my son 'But all who did receive Him, who believed in His name, He gave the right to become children of God.' Welcome home son."

Jake is an ordinary kid, with ordinary problems, ordinary 

cares. But there is something different about Jake. He no longer 

wears a mask. He lets the world see his face, and in his face he 

lets others see the grace of God who saved him. Reader Jake thought 

he was alone. that only he wore a mask.Jake is every person that live, 

hurts and has problems. Jake is you, Jake is me, jake is your next door neighbor. that  

But the truth is that every-one wears a mask. this mask is our attempt 

to put on a false front,to make everyone think that we have everything under control 

and nothing is wrong. This mask keeps us from letting anyone know that 

we are hurting because we think that we are alone. But we are not

in 1st Corinthians 10:13a it says "No temptation (sin, hurt, or problem)

has seized except what is common to man." That means that nothing that

happens to you or that you do is something that you alone have done

there are many people out there that are struggling with the same thing,

and many people have come to know Christ and find healing in His sacrifice

Here reader is where you make the choice. This is the choice that 

will lead down two very different paths. The choice is to continue wearing

this mask, trying to pretend to be happy and content as you are, that 

you can make it on your own, or give it up and lay it before Christ.

I must warn you that the two paths have serious consequences if the 

wrong is chosen. The first choice leads to the path of destruction, the

Bible calls it Hell, a place of torment and suffering,make no mistake

if you choose this path Hell is the only option, Revelation 20:15 says 

"If anyones name was not found written in the book of life, he was thrown

in the lake of fire." The only way to have your name written in the 

book of life is through Jesus Christ John 14:6 "Jesus said to him 

'I am the way the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except

through me'" This path leads to an eternity in heaven with God. 

This choice is not a conversion, it is not a religion. It is a 

relationship with the creator of the universe who cared enough to

give his life so that you could be saved. Make the choice wisely reader

There is but one way, one truth, and one life.

Author's Note

The passages of Scripture used in the text were not referenced to prevent their taking away from the flow of the story, They are as followed Romans 3:23, Romans 6:23a, Romans 5:8, Romans 10:13, Romans 10:9-10, Rev 3:20a, John 1:12
The story of Christine is real and happened to a young girl from Pennsylvania in the fall of 2009. She did not turn in the people who destroyed here books and only told one other person, a friend of what happened and only to borrow the other person's
bible. This story is dedicated to that girl as well as everyone who has ever experienced pain, loneliness, and hopelessness... I guess that means everyone. If you have any questions or would like to learn more please I urge you to contact me I will answer any question you have to the best of my ability with all the resources I can find.

Reviews

[Alexanne Dauntless]

As a whole, I really liked this. I like how you use the story to convey your message. You have used excellent narration and dialogue.

There were just a few minor things in the stylistic area such as "In the fluid motion of routine he slips it on. It molds over his face in a fluid motion." Using "fluid motion" this closely twice in succession sounds out of place.

There were also a few spelling errors and you use the wrong form of "you're" several times (you use "your" instead). But overall I really liked this. It was very well done.

[Color of the Iris]

Have you ever felt like that, William? I can say I have at one time or another...

[raining]

This Mormon (LDS) Christian liked your story alot. You have alot of writing ability. thanks. Raining.

[deeps]

Whoa! This is so wonderful, I like reading this write alot.
You put alot of time and effort in this write.
This is really outstanding I like it.