Daysong Graphics

A thunderclap jolted me from sleep. Pulling the blankets closer to my chin, I listened, hoping the storm would blow over. Another roll of thunder grew in intensity, as a line of drummers, building to the final cymbal clash. Glancing out the window, I could see no sign of a storm as the stars sparkled against the blue-black sky. I fumbled for my flashlight and shuffled down the hallway toward the kitchen, anger simmering as I thought maybe one of the kids was playing their music too loud again. Don’t they have any consideration for others who might be trying to sleep?

Halfway through the family room I noticed light streaming from beneath the closet door. I haven’t been able to open it since moving into this old house. Curious, I walked over and tugged on the handle and was surprised when it opened with little effort. A light so fierce radiated from somewhere deep within and pierced through my soul. I shielded my eye as best I could, fearing the intensity of the light. Its magnetic force drew me deep into the closet.

Mixed with the booms of thunder, I heard a voice, “Look up.”

Compelled to obey, I held my hand as a shield above my eyes and squinted into the light. Its brilliance remained, although less fierce. At last, I could see the source—a golden throne, pulsing with its radiance.

A man stood before me. His eyes, gentle, crinkling in the corners, showed his readiness for a good laugh. He reached out his hand for me to take.

“Where am I?” I could barely find my voice.

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Taking Care of His Wife

“What’s wrong with your brakes?” Brad strode into the living room with a small gift bag in his right hand.

“I didn’t notice anything wrong with them.” Megan sat in her favorite wingback chair, thankful that Brad knew so much about cars. She moved her feet off the ottoman and sat up straight.

“Well, they’re not working right. I was partway into the intersection before the car stopped at the red light.” He sat on the ottoman near her feet.

She tried to keep her eyes focused on his face and not the gift bag. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. But I’m worried about your going to your sister’s tomorrow with the brakes like that.”

The route to Heather’s house was over a long mountain pass with lots of sharp curves and long drops.

“Maybe I shouldn’t go—”

“No, no. You’ve been looking forward to this for a while now. I’ll check your brake fluid. Maybe that’s all it is. I parked your car in the garage so I could work on it.”

Megan smiled at her husband. Brad was always taking care of her. When they got married late last year, Megan’s mom said all that would change soon after the honeymoon.

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