A College Seeress' Diary

Escape Tournament

Dear Jesus,

Roughly thirty seconds passed. It felt to me like a century.

When I didn't feel the rough pain from the impact of the blade cutting through my skin, throat and bone that I was expecting, I decided to risk a peek. 

I had already drowned out the cacophony of sounds—the demonic chant of those men in a drunken state, and was that John sobbing?—in anticipation of hearing the heavenly voices of angels welcoming me home.
I was therefore expecting to open my eyes to the pearly white gates of Heaven, thinking maybe you'd made me slide into eternity without even feeling pain.

Lo and behold, what I saw before me was Mike, still holding up the axe in a grip so tight that veins were bulging out of his biceps. He was frozen in place, trembling and grunting as if he was struggling against an unseen force.
An alarmed expression was etched on his dark face.

Suddenly, as if a spark of lightning had cut through the thick, foggy darkness that befuddled my mind, I heard you speak.

"IT IS NOT YET TIME, DAUGHTER!"

The loudest clap of thunder I had ever heard reverberated through the sky as you spoke. It was followed by a sudden flash of lightning that momentarily illuminated the cave walls to reveal strange writings and symbols; most prominently, the symbol of the thorn ring and lion in the middle.
The shining moon overhead got covered with a thick dark cloud. The wind outside began howling mournfully. The candle lights began swaying precariously, casting eerie shadows on the rocky walls.

Your voice and the thunder were so striking and yet relieving at the same time that I just hung my mouth open in awe. It echoed through the walls of this open-roofed cave and rang in my ears.

I think everyone also heard the voice because everyone fell silent. You know, akin to what happened to Paul and his companions on his way to Damascus.

I couldn't see anyone's face except Mike's, thanks to the way I was tightly tied down to face in only one direction. But from the tense silence, I could imagine the shock and agitation that would be drawing lines on their faces.

Slowly, my lips spread thin into a cheek-aching smile.

You're here, O Lord. How could I have thought otherwise?

Just as your voice came, I watched with unblinking eyes as the accursed axe was flung out of Mike's hand to the farther edge of the altar like a paper tossed by the wind.

He took two steps back, spewing obscenities under his gasping breath. His eyes were as wide as coconuts.

"What by the devil is going on?" said Mike's uncle/occultic godfather. I could tell from the sound of his voice that he was putting up a bold front to mask the trepidation and horrific confusion he was feeling just like the rest of the cult members.

I could hear his stamping feet approaching me. He intended to finish off this slaughtering business by himself.

I caught a glimpse of the knife he aimed at me. I think I also saw the engravings of the lion in a thorn insignia on its blade just like it was on the axe. But I wasn't afraid anymore.

Suddenly, Mike's uncle was knocked to his knees by an invisible force and he began to choke like someone was strangling him. He soon went limp.

The men who rushed to help him only confirmed him dead.

Agitated gasps and murmurs filled the air.
By then, my tears had died up and my mind was spinning as fast as my heart was racing.

This was amazingly unbelievable. I wouldn't be a martyr.
At least not yet, not like this. There was still so much for me to accomplish for you in this world.