Thursday, May 11, 2017


The Life I Hold

The day Miss Anne Sullivan asked my wife and I to take Helen away for a while was one to remember. It hadn’t started off very well, to say in the absolute least.

Breakfast was a vicious event. I may as well have been in the Downtown Pub. Both opponents strong-willed and stubborn. Rooting for a side and winner, I was not, rather I was trying to calm both down. Although I was not loudly exclaiming, I was firmly refusing the ways of our teacher hired for Helen, Miss Sullivan. My daughter, Helen Adams Keller, was being refused food by Miss Sullivan. Even though Helen was but a young child, only the age of nine years, she seemed to have the debatable strategies of a matured mind. Helen had unfailingly apprehended how to get her way. With us, she had unforgivingly succeeded, however, Miss Sullivan would have no pity towards our unstable, confined, deaf and blind daughter’s tantrums. In such a way that she refused our ways towards Helen! She told us we weren’t parenting her rightly by giving her what she wanted. But how, I ask, do we control such a wild and sadly separate child? I love Helen. I love my little girl so much and it ached my heart to unbearable pain some nights that I could not sleep, when I thought of Helen struggling in this world on her own, with no words or even the beauty of a garden to comfort her. I love her, but when she didn’t get her way she groaned, screamed and wailed at such high scales that my ears seemed to bleed at times. Sometimes Helen would hurt herself when we didn’t understand her or until we gave her what she demanded. You cannot blame me nor my wife for doing what we could to try and live a normal life with a deaf and blind child!

When Miss Sullivan asked my wife and I to take Helen and live with her by herself to teach her, for one month, my wife panicked. Kate babied Helen, and I must say I am sorry that I had done so as well. Helen was no baby and what Miss Sullivan claimed about our child being a spoilt one was upsettingly true, though neither I nor my wife wanted to face the fact of what we had truly done to Helen. I didn’t baby Helen as much as my beautiful, young wife. I did try to discipline Helen but again, it is hard to know what is right to do with a child such at Helen.

Kate begged me not to let Anne take Helen.
“I’m not sure. Perhaps Anne could teach Helen to behave. She would be better in communicating with her, as she was once blind herself. Did she not get Helen to eat off her own plate and with her own spoon at breakfast?”
“She can behave, Arthur!” she’d protested, “I can handle her.”
“By rewarding her with sweets each time to throws a tantrum, Mrs Keller? Helen needs not that to behave. That makes her misbehave!” Anne knew Kate’s love and pity for Helen stopped her from being able to bring Helen up the way a normal child should be brought up.
“She needs love! Not cold-hearted discipline! She won’t know what would be happening!” Kate had cried angrily. Her cheeks flushed and had gone bright red, her hair all out of place, I marvelled at her devotion.
“Miss Sullivan. I will allow you to take Helen to the old shed to live.” I had reported.
“Arthur! How could you!” Kate sobbed. “I want my girl with me!” Kate had gripped my collar and stared into my eyes with desperation. It really had pained me to go against my wife.
 I pulled my gaze away from the eyes that broke my heart with sadness and firmly stated to Miss Sullivan, “Though, you may not have her for a month, I permit you two weeks to see what you can do for Helen.”
“But sir that is hardly enough time to…”
I had cut her short by interjecting, “Take it or leave it Miss Sullivan. Kate will barely be able to live without seeing her for that long, let alone four weeks! No, Miss Sullivan. Two weeks will have to do,” I had firmly set my eyes on her. Miss Sullivan’s glasses she wore glinted steely as if even they themselves thought I was folly. She had said she would see what she could do, with no interference from me, Kate or anyone else in my household.

Anne had instructed us that very next morning to take Helen on a long carriage ride to confuse her bearings so she wouldn’t know where she was. After leaving Helen with Miss Sullivan, my wife and I had driven home. Kate had been quiet and tense. When I asked her questions, her answers were short and void of emotion. When we got back the house, she got down out of the carriage by herself, refusing my hand.
She had turned and stared at me.
“This is what is best, my lovely. She needs to learn to communicate.”
Again, she had just stared. Her beautiful blue eyes had turned to a dull grey colour and her skin and lips were pale. She hadn’t put on make-up and her hair wasn’t pinned as carefully as usual. Even though she looked sad, dull and closed off, I had seen all as beauty which showed the burning love she held for Helen. I had stepped towards her and she had stiffened, still staring at me. Her eyes were open, yet not open to her soul. The windows to her soul were closed, not allowing anything to come in. Not even me, which hurt me more than leaving Helen behind.

The days and weeks that followed, although it was quiet and peaceful without Helen, there was no life in my household. Kate had warned to me some but still wasn’t herself. This changed five days before we got Helen back.

Kate had been lying on our bed staring at the ceiling for hours. Even when I sat down beside her and put my hand on her leg, she didn’t move, didn’t blink. This coldness was enough to chill me and I had to get her back.
“Kate? Can I talk to you? You know that I sent Helen away to help her?” You know that I want what is best for Helen. You know keeping her with Miss Sullivan is best. I think you may be a bit jealous and that’s why you’re being this way?”
Kate turned to stare at me, sat up and had bluntly replied, “I love Helen too much to give her to another women to discipline her. I do not like Miss Sullivan as she has taken Helen away from me and I think you’re wrong.”
“Kate, I know you know, deep down, that what I chose is best.”
Kate had turned her head away from me and sniffed.
“I know you love Helen. You would do anything for her. I know you believe that some things you do for her doesn’t really help her but makes her more reliant and resistant.”
“Arthur! I do things because I love her! I want what’s best and she needs to be with me!”
I moved closer to her and held her cold hands.
“Please listen and hear me,” I had asked gently, “You are being stubborn. You are being selfish. You know Helen doesn’t need you as much as you want to believe. Let go.”
Kate had then broken down into fits of sobs and kept crying out, “My girl! I know, I know! My baby is not a baby anymore!”
I had cradled her until she stopped and made me look at her.
“Arthur, how can you forgive me for being so stubborn and cold towards you? But please forgive me! I’m so sorry!”
I leaned in to kiss her forehead and said, “I know, I have already forgiven you.”

We soon brought Helen home. Such a difference Miss Sullivan had made! She kept manners when eating and when asking for what she wanted. Miss Sullivan taught us how to communicate to Helen by spelling words into her hands. Anne Sullivan had been a miracle from God!

Monday, March 27, 2017

Love Can Do It

Rebecca and her father hadn’t always had a close relationship. The friendship and love they held for each other was grown and had taken a long time to do so, only because Rebecca had taken her time. Her father was a compassionate man, a man who held others up and if need be, came down to do so. Rebecca loved her father, and this day she sat across from him, watching him eat. She studied his face. His strong jaw line clenched as he ate, making his jaw muscles bulge. Rebecca looked up to his dark, wavy, course hair. Rebecca smiled to herself, seeing the grey colour at his temples. Her father always said that grey hair was a crown of glory and found atop the heads of righteous living people. She tried to tease him about it, but he always smiled and said, “Well, at least I have a visible crown!”
“What is it, Rebecca? You’re making fun of my hair again, aren’t you?” the voice of love penetrated through her thoughts.
Rebecca smiled into his loving, deep brown eyes. Sometimes she thought her father knew her better than she knew herself.
“Why do you say that?”
“I can see it in your smile and your eyes. You give yourself away!” her father chuckled deeply.
He smiled at her, warming Rebecca more than the warmth of the fire in the dining room. She grinned and looked down at her food. Food fit for a king. Everything Rebecca had was the best, her father wanting nothing less for her. She picked up her shiny, golden fork and stabbed at an equally golden potato, popping it into her mouth. She closed her eyes in pleasure at the taste of it. Opening her eyes and chewing slowly, she gazed at her father again. Her smile faded as she remembered herself before his love, the days where she ruled herself, no one loved her and when she thought about death more than any young girl, or any person, should ever dwell upon.


Rebecca ran. Her arms and legs pumping hard. Her breath heaved heavily as she tried to leave the coppers behind. However, cars are faster than any ten year old girl could ever run. Thinking quickly, Rebecca disappeared into an alleyway the cars could not fit into. She glanced behind her. No cops yet… Climbing up onto a dumpster bin, she leaped from there onto an overhanging awning. In the dark, she slipped, smashing her shin. She cried out then quickly glanced back again to the alleyway opening and saw the cars screech to a halt. Rebecca sucked through her teeth. Pulling herself up, she faced a window in front of her and struggled to open it. Panting as she tried to shove it open, the window slowly moved ajar. I guess now it helps to be small, she smirked. Slipping through the opening, she then turned and pushed hard to close the window again.
“They’ll have to try all the windows to try and find me,” she whispered triumphantly to herself.
Spinning around, she tried to make out what was in the dank room. She looked down and kicked at a book. Light streamed into the tiny room and Rebecca dropped to the floor, eyes wide. She heard shouting. Man alive! Rebecca, are you really as dumb as you look? the voices in her head taunted. Rebecca frowned and crawled across the floor to the door. She tried to yank it open but the handle wouldn’t budge. She tried to flip the lock but it was jammed. Stupid! You didn’t think at all! Only senseless idiots would do something this brainless! Rebecca gasped as she saw the lights flashing in through window. Someone shattered the glass and men jumped into the room. Trapped, Rebecca hid her agonizing pain and glared into the light. A man gripped her hard and yanked her away from the door. Someone broke down the door and Rebecca was led out towards yet another prison, but none the worse than how she was bound in her head.

Ten months later, now eleven and after seven months in juvenile detention, Rebecca was once again running. Not from the police this time, but from the only men and women in her life. People that didn’t love her, but people who used her to get what they wanted and if she didn’t produce, she was hunted. The worst that had happened to her was having broken bones from the consequences of not giving. Rebecca was tired. Tired of running, tired of being unwanted, tired of being tormented by the people in her life and the voices in her head. Rebecca would not show that to them, though.

Rebecca came to the rich and wealthy part of the city. Stopping for a short moment, she glanced around at the houses. That house! The third one on the left! The man who lives there deserves to have his house ruined by a little girl! Rebecca took off towards that house. Seeing no car, and the door locked, she jumped the fence and ran around the back of the house. She stopped again, taking in the beauty of the garden set before her. Someone really cares about this house and this garden, she thought. No! Wreck it, pull and shred it and send it to the people after you! Save yourself and go inside and find the most valuable item you can find and take it back to them! the voices shouted at her. Heeding to their command, she ruin the garden and broke into the house and ran up the stairs to find the master bedroom. She was tearing through every draw and taking down every picture frame when she heard a door close. Oh no, oh no, oh no! Rebecca kicked herself for not being quicker or taking more care. She heard thumping as someone came up the stairs. Sliding under the bed, she bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out as she hit her head on a metal bar. She watched the shoes from under the bed. She squeezed her eyes tight, hoping with all her might he would not look under the bed. To her complete dismay, the man‘s hands and knees came to the floor. Rebecca shimmied as quietly as she could back out from under the bed. She crawled around the bed, cautiously, wondering at the chances of the bed being too big for her to be seen from a crouching position! When she got to the end of the bed, she slowly peered around the corner to see the man reaching under it. Quickly pulling her head back and staring at her hands on the floor, she debated when to run. Now! Just go now, you fool! the voices screamed. Looking up, ready to sprint, she saw polished brown shoes and grey slack pants blocking her way. Screaming out in fright, she took off around him, down the dark wood stairs and out of the double French doors at the front. Glancing back at the house, she saw the man. She quickly looked ahead, spooked by the look on his face. His face revealed pain, sorrow and something else she couldn’t read. Busy in her thoughts, she almost ran into a cop car as she rounded a corner. In shock, her body didn’t move and once again she was handcuffed and thrown into the back of the car.
“Well, this just made our job easier. No chasing a girl through fences and windows! You ran straight into us!” one of the policemen laughed.
The other grinned and said to her, “Good thing Mr. Amor has good friends and neighbours to point out if some little child tears up his garden.”

Again in this dumb courtroom! I’m probably gonna be sentenced for life for vandalizing this rich dude’s house! Rebecca rolled her eyes. Not listening to anything being said.
“Miss Parkes?”
Rebecca glared up at the judge, “What?”
“Do you have anyone to pay you bail?”
“What do you think?” Rebecca snapped.
The judge turned to one of the people from The Department of Child Safety, “Mr. Tumbler, is this the case? The same as the other times?”
“Yes, sir, Judge.”
“That is not true. I’m going to bail her out!”
Rebecca whizzed around to face the rich man who was smiling at her. Quickly looking away, she stared up at the judge.
“I see this is quite a surprise to you, Miss Parkes? Mr. Amor, are you sure? She is a criminal and one who vandalized your own home!”
“I am sure.”

The months that followed first involved Child Safety taking her to her new foster home and parent, Mr. Amor.  Rebecca fought against Mr. Amor all the time. She would run away and the cops would bring her back to him. He would look after her and love her, and she would reject him and run away, committing crimes. Deep down she liked being with Mr. Amor, because she finally felt loved. However she didn’t know how to deal with it and the voices in her head always told her to do the opposite of what he wanted. No matter how many times she could have gone back to juvenile, Mr. Amor would pay her bail and get her back home. One night, Rebecca’s mind was being racked with the voices. You need to break his heart! Then we’ll see how much he loves you! they screamed.
“Shut up! Just shut up! I’ve broken his heart so many times and he still brings me back!” she shouted at them. You haven’t! You’re still here! No one loves you! No one could ever love you! Just give up!
“Stop!” she cried. Throwing herself onto her bed, she sobbed loudly and she didn’t hear Mr. Amor walk in. Sitting on the end of her bed, he laid his warm hand on her foot. She whimpered and sat up, facing him.
“Help me! Please, Mr. Amor! I don’t know why you keep me when I do everything wrong and the opposite to what you say. But these voices in my head! They gang up on me! Please, I don’t want them anymore! I’m scared!” Rebecca covered her face as she broke down in tears again.
Rebecca tried to stop crying as she looked up at him. Again she saw the face she saw when she first ran away from him. Pain, sorrow, and still she couldn’t tell what else. Mr. Amor smiled at her and opened his arms. Rebecca burst into tears again and made her way into his arms. His arms around her and her head on his chest, she quietened.
“You want to know why, Rebecca?” Mr. Amor asked quietly, “It’s because since that first day I was upset that a young girl was going through the torments of death and I saw a young girl scared and in need. I love you, Rebecca. That is why nothing you do or don’t do can make you leave my home, or my heart.”
Rebecca looked through her tears, into his eyes and finally saw what she hadn’t understood. Love.
“I’m so sorry.” she cried. “Can I… can I call you my father?”
Mr. Amor beamed at her and hugged her tight, “Of course,” he whispered.


Rebecca broke out of her thoughts and realized she had finished her food and her father was staring at her.
“You saved me from them, Father. From the people who wanted to hurt me and from the voices that hated me. You loved me when no one else would.”

Rebecca pushed back her chair and stood out from the table. She walked around to her father. Looking into his eyes, Rebecca adoringly said, “I love you so much, Father.”

Thursday, February 16, 2017

No Fear

The last place Steve Tunglo wanted to be was in a smoke-ridden, rat-infested pub at night. Yet, that was exactly where he was. Steve gagged on the fog as he stood quietly in the entrance. His eyes had always been better than average, but however good his eyes were, he struggled to make out anything through the immense cigar smoke. Steve ran his fingers through his wavy, dark brown hair and exhaled slowly.
“Come on, Tunglo!” he whispered to himself.
Steve straightened his back and tensed his buff arms. He strolled, in what he hoped, was a confident stride towards where he thought the bar would be. Through the smoke he could make out a long bench and sighed with relief that at least he looked like he knew where he was going. Stopping in front of the bench, he leaned down to look a short man straight in the eyes. The man stared up at him, then glared, realizing who he was.
“Get lost, boy,” he sneered. “I wouldn’t disturb Lengálou, if I was you. You may get worse than what you have already gotten.” The man shuffled into a nearby room.
Steve’s mind started to race. What if I don’t get out of here? Alive? It doesn’t matter. You need to do this, Tunglo!
The short man stood in front of him again, grinning a smile that could rot your teeth. He bowed mockingly and reached out his hand.
“Lord Lengálou will see you, Tunglo,” he cackled.
Steve clenched his jaw, in which a shave was way overdue, and boldly walked towards the man who had murdered his family.

The difference in room décor and smell was distinct and worse than the pub. Statues of demonic-looking immortals stood in each corner. Pictures of graphic murders lined the dark purple walls. Even though Steve felt like vomiting, he held his head high and focused on what was important. Helping Lengálou. He was talking to his Father God, when the door behind him opened. He didn’t turn, but he could feel the weight and evil that came in. A man in a suit of purple and black hovered to his desk. Literally above the ground about seven inches. Steve inhaled, and rolled his eyes.
“No need to show off, Lengálou. I am perfectly aware of the power that holds you,” was Steve’s smart remark.
Lengálou laughed heartily, and sat in a claw-like chair then turned to face him. Steve was taken aback by his eyes. You could have said that the whole of the world’s evil lay inside them. Lengálou smile a perfect grin. Perfect white teeth, perfectly ironed clothes, perfect russet-coloured hair. He acted publicly in gestures of kindness, and anyone would think him a good man. However, under the cover of darkness he was beyond any evil anyone could understand. Lengálou was good at blinding people.
“I believe you’re mistaken, Stephen. It is not the power that holds me. I hold the power.”
So you think, Steve thought.
“You are here on what business, Tunglo?”
“One from my Lord,” Steve replied.
Lengálou’s face hardened and his eyes flared with hatred. He glared at him from under dark eyebrows.
“Your family was gullible,” Steve stiffened and grit his teeth. “They didn’t understand. If they had just obeyed me nothing would have happened to them,” Lengálou stated matter-of-factly, turning his palms to the ceiling. “I wanted something small. Something that only needed one breath to reveal to me their reliability. They didn’t have it. They didn’t want their god to send them to hell for rejecting him. A god that would do that is no worthy god. Now, I am the worthy god. I have had people who have needed to deny me in order to get what I want, and they are still alive.”
Steve’s hidden tongue moved side to side quickly in his mouth, as he did when he was angry. Lengálou saw that he had done a good job in working the man up and raised his eyebrow and grinned devilishly.
“My family was not weak. My family was not gullible. My family did not think that of our God. You know perfectly well our God and you are definitely not Him! My family would rather have been murdered by you here and get a better reward from heaven! Jesus said we would be persecuted here and we have no fear of pain here, but fear God only!”
Lengálou eyes betrayed the demon inside of him and he screamed a scream from hell itself.
“Shut up! You stupid human! You are a hindrance to me. You don’t know anything about me and God!” he screeched. No longer was Lengálou in this equation but the devil in him speaking of his own account. “I have every right to say and do anything I want! You cannot stop me!” The demon sneered, “You fear me. I see it.”
Steve shook, not from fear but from anger. “Enough! That is enough from your darkness and your devils!”

The short man who tended the bar shook uncontrollably. It wasn’t cold, but he felt so cold and deathly he felt he wanted to just fade away. No one sat in the bar any longer.
Lengálou had stumbled out of that room screeching and wailing. Steve had calmly walked out behind him.
“It is finished, Lengálou. You are under bondage no longer. Snap out of it!” Steve had commanded.
No one had ever told his lord to do anything, yet all his lord could do was cry out “I want them back!”

Steve talked to him about things the bartender couldn’t comprehend. He did hear the name Jesus, though. Then his master had started to sob violently, speaking gibberish and it seemed as though Steve could understand. After about a half hour, both men stood, hugged each other tightly and left, leaving the bartender dumbfounded and scared of what had just happened in front of him that night.

By Amariah Corowa

Thursday, January 19, 2017

Combined churches worship night 15th Jan 2017.

Me and my sister did these dances for a combined church night this month.

Tomorrow by Tamia

Can't Live Without Jesus by Jon Gibson

Monday, November 21, 2016

A Thorn in Their Side - a short story

In the island of Vinstelle, its inhabitants were having a presently normal day. Eat, murder, more evil, repeat. These people were thorns among roses. They lived on a beautiful island, however the air rotted with the smell of the dead. Evil was ever present in every heart and mind. Each person lived for no one but themselves. This place may as well have been hell on God’s created earth.


Despite the evil that dwelled about a day’s sail from the calm shores of Stellavin Island, Christians lead their normal, simple, day-to-day lives. Amidst these, Mr. Raz Sty, voted for as the most inspiring, honest, loving, compassionate, devoted man from most Stellavinians, was, that particular day, to be crowned the president of Stellavin. The ceremony was one of colour and joy. People, happy to have a man such as him to be their leader, laughed, jostled and jumped to get to a spot where they would be able to have a good speculation of the event. With all that said, there was one small group of people who did not, in the least, agree with the choice their Island was making. One of those people stood out from the rest. He was taller than the average guy, with a body that’d make trees cry out with jealousy. Dominic, was not a proud man, and lived his life all out for His Creator.
“This is one decision I know will be largely regretted by our people in time to come.”
A young woman, standing beside the towering man, glanced down at his hands, which were opening and closing into fists.
“You need to calm down Dom. Our Father knows what we need to do, and we will do what He wills us to do.”
Dominic stared at Raz who was up on stage ready to receive his certificate of appointment over the Island. One of the men in the circle ran his bronzed hand through his light brown hair. “Amen, Sister Momina. Father does not want us to act on our own anger, yet in his love.”
The eldest of the group, a huge, black man with fiery hair, slapped Dominic’s back “You know what Bonifacy? I say let him get angry! Righteous anger was what our Lord had. He drove people away with his own whip!”
“I know that. I said ‘our’ own anger, Baldwin.”
“Sh, sh, guys. Look.” Momina’s black curls bounced as she turned her head towards the stage.
“And so, we, as a body of Christ, family together in oneness on this blessed Island, hand you, Mr. Raz Sty, the honour and responsibility to watch, teach, train, love, and show us the right way as our first and new President of Stellavin!”
The whole crowd of congregation shouted and cheered, throwing hats up into the sky. People hugged each other and smiled, all trying to invite the new president to their house for dinner. Raz beamed and shook their hands, thanking them kindly and gently refusing their offers. As he was gradually walking down the stairs, Raz tripped on someone’s shoe and fell the rest of the way down and landed on the grass with an audible thud. Everyone gasped and stopped what they were doing. Dominic bent down, picked Raz, who had fallen into his strides’ way, up with ease and set him up straight.
“Thank you, ah…?”
“Yes. Thank you, Dominic. Bless you. Perhaps you would like to entertain me at your house for dinner?”
“Sorry, sir, but I have business to attend to.”
Raz’s face reddened with surprise at this unexpected refusal to eat with him, the president. In a huff, Raz stalked off to his awaiting car with his newly found paparazzi following close behind him.


“Are you sure? It could have been, I dunno, a tattoo from his youth life.” Bonifacy shovelled lasagne into his mouth.
Him, Dominic and Baldwin were all feasting on Momina’s delicious meal, a few days after Raz’s ceremony. Momina, washing up dishes, came up behind Dominic.
“If Dom says that’s what he saw, that’s what he saw. Now you,” she leaned around to look into her husband’s eyes, “Have responsibility to look into this and find out if what you say is true. And you guys,” Momina straightened and focused her gaze into each or their eyes too. “Now we all have to make sure we aren’t making assumptions that may not be correct. We need to be, veracious.”
“Huh?” Baldwin displayed a blank look on his face.
Momina sucked her teeth and went back to the sink. “It means we need to speak truth.”
“You are right, Mina,” Dominic concurred, as he set his cutlery down. “It is time we found out about the man everyone’s thinks they know all about.”


Down at Port Rudder, on Vinstelle Island, two men moored their boat to its shoreline and jumped out of their watercraft. A group of savage-looking men greeted them with spears, growls, and hatred that burned from their eyes. One of the men, in a great, tall top hat held up his hands in a peace gesture.
“I am Raz. I am expected by your chief.”
The fierce men frowned and motioned for the two other men to follow them. Deep into the jungle forest they tread, once and a while falling upon dead bodies. Soon they opened to a clearing and in the middle stood a grand hut-like house. From the smoking hut came crazed children with formidable-looking mothers chasing them around with sticks.
“Are you sure they will not attack us?” the man that had accompanied Raz to this forsaken Island asked, shaking from within.
“No, Tomlin, I am not.”
One of the fierce men called out in a language unknown to Tomlin. Then, a man, round in all aspects, came out from the hut. Tattoos covered his whole being. The only piece of clothing he had was a cloth covering his front middle.
Raz stepped forward and bowed, “Chief Shiva, I have come bringing news of my achievements.” Tomlin stood straight, staring at his president, not understanding a word being uttered. “You sent me on a quest when I was but a young man. To bring down the Christians, and show the ever present power of our high spirit, Destroyer!”
With that phrase, all people within ear shot let out a string of chants and curses. Tomlin went pale and looked like he was about to faint. Shiva strode to stand right in front of Raz. He whispered something into his ear, stood back, turned to Tomlin and struck him with a mighty blow to his head with his club. Tomlin dropped dead, surprise forever etched on his innocent white face. A man stepped down and threw him over his shoulder and marched into the dark cave of a house, followed by sleazy, creep, Raz Sty and his commander, Chief Shiva.


Back on Stellavin, Dominic had found out much about their so-called “loving and compassionate” new president. He had hunted down every document with his name in it, every book that ever mentioned Raz or Sty. He even had found people, scared into hiding, who had known Raz in his younger youth and had uncovered truths that had turned his stomach into knots. He had talked with one old lady who had housed Raz when he first came to Stellavin.
“He never told anyone where he had come from or what he wanted from coming to this Island,” the lady had told Dominic.
“How then did you come across your conclusions to where he has come from?”
“Well, every night he would be in his room by exactly 8 o’clock. By 8:30, I would hear mumblings coming from his room. He would get louder, but no one ever understood what he was saying. Then we had a preacher come to board and he stayed in the room beside Raz. After many nights, the preacher came to consult me about what he thought to be. He had deliberately went to his room at the same times Raz had and listened to him talking.”
“A little nosy?” Dominic stated, writing notes.
“Perhaps. Or maybe just a concerned brother. As a preacher man, he had been to Vinstelle in what we all wish to do is to bring the Gospel to those savages. Anyway, he had stayed on that Island for a while, hiding and speculating their ways. I do not know how he was not found out, but he wasn’t. He told me that the talking sounded very much like the language of Vinstelle. Of course, I didn’t really believe him. No one from there would want to come here, especially by themselves. Eventually I had complaints about Raz and I had to kick him out. I had not seen him since, until, that is, he has become our president in which I am very wary of.”
“You and me both. Thank you very much for your time Mrs. Stradle.” The lady nodded. “I believe that this brings more truth to my findings.”


“I am sorry. You cannot be in contact with Mr. Sty. He is, out on business.”
Baldwin scratched his beard and frowned. Where does a small island President go out on a business trip? He put the phone on loud speaker. “Okay. Miss, it is very important. Is it possible for you to tell me where I could reach him?”
“Sorry again, but I don’t believe his accommodation has reception.”
Bonifacy raised his eyebrow at Dominic who shook his head.
“As a president, he doesn’t have a satellite phone?”
“Sir, please, I am not authorized to give out specific details of his whereabouts or his personal belongings.”
“He doesn’t have assistants with him to aid him on this trip he has taken?”
“I am not authorized to give out details of personnel.”
“I understand, Miss, maybe you could help me then?” Dominic nodded and pointed to a piece of paper in front of him.
“That all depends on what you ask and what answer it forms.”
“Yes, Miss,”
“Please, Dotty is fine.”
“Okay, Dotty, I am doing a report on our new, first president and I just wanted to know what he was like before he got into this campaign?”
“Sorry, perhaps I could forward your line onto someone who knows a little more than me?”
Dominic shook his head and pointed to a place on the sheet of paper. Dotty Lang’s name was among some of the few names he had uncovered for having some sort of relationship with Raz, which meant she was lying in some ways.
“Dotty, I am sure you could help. I have reason to believe you did have contact with Mr. Sty while he was at college. Am I correct?”
“Ah, I’m sorry. I wouldn’t say…”
“You, in fact, um, courted him for a while, yes?”
“Courted? I am sorry, you must be mistaken. I don’t think…”
“Well, not courted then. Dated him? Went out with him? A close relationship, I have been told.”
“Yes. For a small while. Close would be an overstatement. He never shared anything close with me. I do not know why I went out with him in the first place. Now, please, I have said enough and you have no right to be scrounging around in my personal affairs.”
“Affairs? Now that brings me to my next question. You were secretly married to him and…”
“Let me finish. You both were married, then he had an affair and you broke your marriage. Now Raz has become the president and you two have become close again. This is not something hidden, Miss Lang. It is a matter of pure truth and a situation one could not deny.”
There was silence on the other end, then a beep, beep, beep came from the phone, signalling she had closed the discussion.
“Well, there you go.” Baldwin leaned back on his chair and grinned. “I’d say I did a mighty good job, wouldn’t you?”
Bonifacy nodded and looked at Dominic. He was gazing over the paper he written on, and on the other sheet he had noted on during the conversation.
“This confirms much. By her silence, her apologizing and her statements, she has established what we thought. We, as brothers, have searched for the truth in this and we have found it. Along with the tattoo Raz has in his side and all this information, it is very much safe to say the Mr. Raz Sty is a Vinstellian. Now, I think that my wife will be very proud of us all.” Dominic smiled wide and closed his eyes. “Thank you, Father, for the truth. Holy Spirit you have lead us into all truth. You told us to beware of false prophets, of wolves that come in sheep’s clothing. Father you showed us already what to do and all we needed to do was follow you. You have given us permission to judge those inside Christ’s body. And Father that is what we now will do. You have given us your power and dominion through Jesus and by Him we will use it.”
“Amen, brother.” Baldwin and Bonifacy chorused.


“What?!” Raz jumped out of his big office chair and stomped up to Dotty Lang. She stepped back under the smell of his heated breath.
“Well, sir, you were gone a long while, so, this Dominic man and his gang have been stirring up the people against you. Also, somehow, they have achieved their goal of cutting you out of office. People have believed them, and I guess, finally listened to Holy Spirit. They have voted you out and there are supposed to be men coming to remove you any minute.”
Raz seized Dotty’s arms and stared coldly into her wide eyes. “You do something about this right now, or you will regret ever setting eyes on me.”
Dotty squirmed under his strength. Yanking herself out of his grip, she stepped back again, glaring at him. “Nothing I have done or not done would I change. You are man of evil and care for only yourself. I regret right now ever setting my eyes upon your beastly bulk.”
Raz’s eyes burned in anger. His face turning as red as beet, he launched towards Dotty’s throat. Dotty moved, causing Raz to lose his balance. He stumbled upon a bookshelf. From behind, Dotty kicked him hard behind his knees. Raz fell, crying out. He turned abruptly, grabbed Dotty’s leg and pulled her down. Raz hurled himself onto her.
Squatting over her legs, his hands pinning her arms down he breathed, “I will not fail my chief nor Destroyer. If I go, you will go too.” Raz smirked. “A shame really that my small Dot should die this way. We were close, I shared my heart with you, yet you decided to be rid of me. However, I want to show a mercy to you, my Dot.”
“Don’t call me that,” she hissed.
“Okay, fine. But as I was saying, I will save you. If you help me, I will keep you. Is that a bargain or what?” Raz chuckled.
Dotty spat in his face. Raz frowned and mechanically lifted his hand to wipe his face. Dotty used her chance to lean into his other arm and bit down hard, also kicking him in the groin. Raz screamed out in pain. Dotty swiftly slid out from under him and ran towards and out of his office doors. She throttled right into the chest of Dominic.
“There. In there,” she sobbed.
Momina rushed to her and pulled her into her arms.
Directing the policemen with him, Dominic instructed, “Let’s remove Raz Sty. No more will my brothers of this Island be ruled by his hand. It is finished, Raz!” Dom called into the office. There was as ear-shattered smash and they all rushed into the room. Across the room they saw their last glimpse of Raz Sty.
He jumped out of the smashed glass window, falling and shouting, “I will not fail!”
They maneuvered their way through the shattered glass and peered out of the window. Five storeys down, the Vinstellian man lay motionless.

“There is now no one he has failed but himself,” Dotty murmured.

written by: Amariah Corowa 

Saturday, August 6, 2016

Words most definitely have power

I did an experiment on the power of words. I got two cups of normal, un-tampered with water, out of the tap, bore water, and spoke to them. One one cup I wrote "cursed: and on the other cup I wrote "blessed". I spoke blessings to the "blessed" cup, like, "You are pure", "You are perfect and amazing", "You are good to me". To the "cursed"cup I spoke curses/down putting words, like, "You are stupid, and dumb", "You'll never amount to anything", "You are horrible, you good for nothing water".
After speaking to them, I put them in my freezer on a flat surface for about one day. Then, I took them out and assessed the results. And you can physically, without a microscope. see the power of words. My uncle did the same experiment, and his results were relatively the same. Although, when we looked at his results, the word "cursed" on the cursed glass had almost come off, when the blessed glass still had "blessed" on it. The water in the cursed glass was a bumpy on the top, while the blessed glass was all smooth. Also, when the water thawed out, the cursed glass actually broke!
So, my results were a little different, but all the same in seeing that the cursed cup was worse of than the blessed cup.
There is scientific proof of words having power, as well. You can see one website here.

This is a video of my experiment.

Or go to this link : Power of words experiment

Obviously, if you just believe the Bible, you do not NEED scientific proof, or an science experiment to know that words indeed do have power.
"Death and life are in the power of the tongue: and they that love it shall eat the fruit thereof" Proverbs 18:21

There is also the scripture, "But I say unto you, that every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give account thereof in the day of judgement." Matthew 12:36

Be careful little mouth what you say!

Friday, May 6, 2016

Don't waste your life!

In a present day situation, two young men, Alex Mirandette, 22, and his brother Erik, 18 years old, were so filled with the love of Christ, that they set out on a very risky motorcycle adventure. They would start at the very southern tip of Africa and travel north more than 8,000 miles, all the way to Egypt.
The brothers' trip was not just a sightseeing expedition. They would be sharing Christ and God's love with the poorest of the poor. They travelled through eleven countries, many with unstable governments. They encountered two civil wars and five groups of rebels. They slept in mud-and-thatch huts, eating what little was available, in order to tell people about Jesus.
The trip took four months. Finally reaching Egypt, they were in an open market when a terrorist's bomb filled with nails, exploded. When the smoke cleared, Erik remembers lying in a daze, trying to pull out hundreds of nails that had penetrated his body. Some had been driven into his bones. Both Erik and Alex were taken to a hospital in Cairo, where later that day, Alex died.
Erik has since endured some 30 surgeries to remove nails, reconstruct his disfigured shoulder and arm, and to repair his seriously injured legs.
In spite of his suffering and the loss of his brother, Erik has chosen to magnify God. He has chosen to forgive those involved. In televised programs which were heard throughout the Arab world, Erik was telling his story and saying, "I forgive those who did this harm to me." The love of Christ expressed like this is sure to touch the hearts of thousands of people in that region.
Was Alex’s life wasted? No it was not. Only God knows how many people will be in heaven someday as a result of the love and testimony of Alex and Erik. Jim Elliot, one of the five young missionaries who were martyred in Ecuador, said, “A man is no fool who gives up that which he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose.”

Don’t waste your life!

Don't Waste Your Life - Lecrae