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