The Coffee Hour

The Golden Oats

( So I'm going to say that I took off the story because I hate it, and it's something I wrote when I was maybe 13; so yeah, the whole thing was just a hot mess. However, I made this, so I hope you guys enjoy it. )

     I remember sitting in the field of golden oats, gazing at the white clouds that sail across the blue ocean sky, feeling the howling breeze of the upcoming winter that brought the bumpy scales upon my fresh skin, making me hear the calling of my once ill mother. Who now found her forever second home passed the golden gate to the kingdom. That day, I felt her soft but frail hands combing down my long hair while speaking words from the Holy Writ. "He sendeth the springs into the valleys, which run between the mountains. They shall give drink to all the beasts of the field, and the wild asses shall quench their thirst. By these springs shall the fowls of the heaven dwell, and sing among the branches. He watereth the mountains from his chambers; and the earth is filled with the fruit of thy works (Psalm 104:10-13)." She would speak this verse while she glistened her eyes upon the land our Lord created, reminding us that we must manage this land as a found gift from him. So the time after the angels have taken her, I would come day by day to this golden oat range to speak this verse to portray her. For this sense, I would feel the welcome of her tender embrace while her smile bestowed countless blessings. 

     I yearned for those days to wrap back within my arms as I now viewed the once oats engulfed with the devil's touch. Sinners, roaring out of excitement, their blind eyes looking over to the false preacher, who speaks his words from His Book. I could hear the cries of the Martyrs, screaming out their pain and suffering, as tears verge downward on the ashes of my face. My vision blurred as it glimpsed at the girl's once chastity, that now laughs with thy appearance twisting to be the pure spawn to cast the black plague, the feeling tightening of my stomach by the rope that pricks as if it was thorns. I could breathe the burning passion of the flares as the warmth my body felt became cold and numb. I look out to the blue ocean sky once more to see the gloomy grey getting darker as the wrath of God will portray upon the sinners. But then, through the demise, I shall forgive for it isn't their crime, but their souls cheated by the dwelling that was once Gods. And accordingly from the Holy Writ, I shall; "Let all bitterness, and anger, and wrath, crying, and evil speaking be put away from you, with all maliciousness. Be ye courteous one to another, and tender hearted, freely forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake, freely forgave you (Ephesians 4:31-32)." Soon enough, I felt a familiar warmth than the sudden deadness from my body.

     My eyes locked to see none other than my mother beaming down on me. Her words brought tears into my sights as she designated that we were once again on the field golden oats. Though it wasn't the same field before, it gives off anew, like me, like my mother, and as the surrounding of this profound land. I give out a long exhale of all the strain that has gone away. The sky was back to the gorgeous blue, as the clouds were pure as white like a dove. A smile gaze upon as I took in the words that now attached to my spirit. "Welcome home."