Buried Alive (for miracle)

ed Al

mir

sod

hear me from afar, but only the silence replied. I rushed back into the house, my heart racing with worry, to ask my children if they knew his whereabouts, or if he had mentioned to them that he was going somewhere, but none of them had any idea where he had gone. They all shook their heads, their faces etched with concern, as I questi

hildren, and we'll never see him again?" I thought to myself, my imagination running wild with all the worst-case scenarios. I felt a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead as I thought about all the things that could have happened to him. I was consumed by a sense of desperation and helplessness, feel

en trying to support him. So, it doesn't make sense that he would just vanish like this," he continued, his words trailing off as he shook his head in disbelief. "Did he mention anything to you, Mom? Anything at all that might give us a clue about where he might have gone?" He asked, his eyes pleading for any information that could help us unravel the mystery of his father's disappearance

he van driver's abrupt departure earlier that morning had only added to our unease. He had left without a word to any of us, which was unusual, and it had only added to our growing sense of unease. And now, these knocks on the door, firm and insistent, were making my heart race even faster. My children and I turned swiftly to look at each other, our eyes wide with

sorts of possibilities, from the familiar face of his father walking back in, to the unknown presence of a stranger who might bring news, good or bad. His body was tense, his small frame straight and stiff, as if bracing himself for whatever was to come. I could see the fear and uncertainty etched on his face, the same fear that was grippin

n. As soon as I heard her name, my heart skipped a beat, and I felt a surge of relief wash over me. I knew Layla, she was a kind and trusted friend, someone who had been a source of support and strength in difficult times. I couldn't help but wonder what she was doing here, at our doorstep,

vents of the past day, the sudden disappearance of her father, and now, the arrival of this unexpected visitor. Her small face was etched with concern, her lips slightly parted, as if she was about to ask a question, but was hesitant to do so. I could see the wheels turning in her mind, trying to make sense of it all, and my heart went out to he

a quick turn, she had the door unlocked and swinging open. The creak of the hinges seemed loud in the silence, as if echoing through the room, as Layla's smiling face came into view. My daughter stepped back, her eyes still fixed on Layla, as if unsure what to make of this unexpected visitor, but Layla's warm smile and gentle demeanor quickly put her at ease. Layla's eyes met

ckly across the room, as if she had a mission to accomplish, her tiny feet pattering against the floor like a gentle drumbeat. Her long, curly hair bounced with each step, and her dress fluttered behind her like a tiny cloud, trailing behind her like a banner of joy. She was a whirlwind of energy and enthusiasm, and her presence was like a breath of fresh air, filling the room with a sense of hope and possibility. As s

d each of us with a personalized greeting, her voice rising and falling in a gentle cadence. Her words were like a gentle breeze on a summer day, soft and soothing, filling the room with a sense of warmth and welcome. As she straightened up, her dress fluttered back into place, and her curly hair bounced with the movement, like a joyful springs burs

welcome and belonging. Our voices were like a soothing balm, calming and reassuring, filling the room with a sense of peace and tranquility. As we spoke, our faces smiled in unison, our lips curling upwards in a gentle curve, our eyes crinkling at the corners with warmth and kindness. The little girl's face lit up in response, her eyes sparkling with delight, her own smil

ess or distress, my gaze warm and encouraging. My smile was like a ray of sunshine, bright and uplifting, intended to put her at ease and make her feel comfortable opening up to me. The question hung in the air like a gentle invitation, a chance for her to share her thoughts and feelings, and for me to offer support and g

my Daddy say that some elders are already in the palace planning on how to chase him out of there with weapons." The words tumbled out like a sudden storm, a burst of revelation that left me feeling shocked and disturbed. She scratched her head, a nervous habit that revealed her inner turmoil, like a leaf rustling in the breeze. Her eyes clouded with worry, like a shadow cast by a passing

ly sound was the soft hum of understanding slowly dawning on us. Our heads swiveled in synchrony, like three puppets on the same string, as we turned to face each other, our gazes locking in a shared moment of incredulity. The shock was palpable, like a physical force that slammed into us, leaving us reeling and gasping for air. Our minds raced with questions, like wild horses galloping across t

anxiety that threatened to overwhelm me. My eyes pleaded with my companions, like a beggar seeking alms, as I implored them to take me to the church, to the place where the pastor's words would bring solace and comfort. My body trembled like a leaf, my hands shaking like fragile twigs, as I reached out for support, for a guiding hand to lead me through the d

ing a shepherd, our feet moving in unison, like a well-rehearsed dance. We trailed behind her, our footsteps echoing through the quiet streets, like a solemn procession. The church loomed ahead, its tall spire reaching for the sky, like a giant's fist punching through the clouds. Its stone walls seemed to radiate a sense of peace and tranquility, like a calming balm for our troubled souls. As we approached, the heavy wooden doors creaked open,

ke with passion and conviction, like a warrior fighting for a noble cause, his words piercing the air like arrows shot from a bow. The intensity of his preaching was like a wildfire spreading rapidly, consuming every obstacle in its path, and we were drawn to it like moths to a flame. As we entered the church, his voice enveloped us, like a warm embrace on a cold winter's night, and we felt the power of his words, like a strong wind l

onfusion, the crowd of people, the weapons and angry faces, and my heart sank, like a stone cast into a deep well. I felt like a shipwrecked sailor, clinging to a fragile liferaft, adrift in a stormy sea, as I struggled to comprehend the magnitude of the disaster unfolding before me. The church, once a symbol of peace and tranquility, now resembled a battleground, like a war-torn city, ravaged by the conflicts of humanity

ur faces etched with concern and worry. We surrounded him, like a protective shield, our eyes pleading with him to explain the turmoil that had erupted like a volcano. Layla, however, stood by the corner, her slender figure silhouetted against the wall, like a statue carved from stone. Her eyes remained fixed on the scene, her expression unread

rting around the room, like a wild animal searching for an escape route. "We need to leave here now!" I repeated, my voice rising in pitch, like a siren wailing in the night, as I tugged him harder, my fingers digging deep into his flesh, like claws grasping for purchase. The children clustered around us, like a brood of chicks seeking shelter under their mother's wings, their eyes wide with fear, like two full moons shining in the dark. Layla rem

r seeking an oasis in the desert, as he tried to make sense of the chaos that had erupted, like a tornado tearing through a peaceful landscape. His eyes narrowed, like a hawk focusing on its prey, as he studied Layla, standing by the corner, her face a mask of calm, like a still pond reflecting the sky above. He turned to me, his eyes piercing, like a sword cutting through uncertainty, as he tried to read my expression, l

ks in every corner of this place. But instead, I find you here, in the midst of chaos, like a shipwrecked sailor clinging to a sinking vessel." My gaze locked onto his, like a magnet drawing metal, as I pleaded with him to understand the gravity of our situation. "The little girl came to inform us that you were here, and that they are currently planning at the palace to come attack you with weapons. Please, we must leave now," I urged, my voi

he divine. "This is my armor, my sword, my protection," he said, his voice filled with a deep faith, like a river flowing from the heart of the believer. "I will not be intimidated, I will not be swayed, for I know that I am here on a mission from God," he proclaimed, his words echoing through the space, like a clarion call to battle. His e

her voice rising in protest. "Does it mean that our lives and yours don't even matter to you?" she demanded, her words piercing the air like a dagger, as she struggled to comprehend his unwavering resolve. "Are you so blinded by your faith that you're willing to sacrifice everything, everyone, for this cause?" she asked, her voice cracking with emotion, like a vessel strained to th

, his face twisted in a mixture of anger and indignation. "How dare you question Dad's faith?" he growled, his voice low and menacing, like a predator stalking its prey. "Don't you know that God is on our side, that He has chosen us for this great purpose?" he demanded, his

y children, don't fight," I pleaded, my voice cracking with emotion, like a tree branch snapping under the weight of a heavy snowfall. "We're all scared, we're all confused, but we must stick together," I urged, my words falling like raindrops on parched earth, seeking to quench the thirst of uncertainty. "We'll ge

prayer, as I sought to convey the gravity of our situation. But he just stood there, smiling, like a statue carved from stone, his expression unyielding, like a fortress wall. His eyes seemed to gleam with a fierce determination, like a warrior ready for battle, as he defied the danger that lurked around us, like a lion tamer facing his fiercest beast. I felt a chill run down my spine, like a cold win

t, as he defied our pleas to depart. "I will not be silenced," he seemed to say, his jaw set in determination, like a rock unyielding to the tempests. "I will not be swayed," he implied, his gaze unwavering, like a beacon shining bright in the darkness. "I will finish what I started, no matter the cost," he seemed to declare, his

nd reason, like a gentle rain shower nourishing a parched garden. "Don't you see?" I asked, my eyes locking onto his, like a magnet drawing metal, as I sought to pierce the veil of his conviction. "There's no one here to receive your message," I emphasized, my voice gentle, like a summer breeze rustling the leaves, ye

d, like a slow-moving river, to settle upon me, his eyes locking onto mine with an unnerving intensity, like a magnet drawing metal. His stare was piercing, like a shaft of light illuminating the darkest recesses of my soul, as if he could see beyond the façade, into the very depths of my being. I felt a shiver

t even have seats to sit on," he continued, his eyes gleaming with a fervent intensity, like a beacon shining bright in the darkness. "They will stand outside by the windows

ke a storm cloud gathering on the horizon, "just know that like Christ, I have been persecuted." His words hung in the air, like a challenge, a declaration of his willingness to suffer for his beliefs, like a martyr embracin

hing?" I asked, my tone incredulous, like a person hearing a ridiculous proposition. "We're a family, we stick together, no matter what," I declared, my voice firm, like a rock unyielding to the tempests. "We've been through so much already, and now you're talking about being persecu

nt, you need to give this a second thought. Mom is not ready to leave

s point, you need to give this a second thought," he continued, his words dripping with reason and logic, like a calm river flowing through a peaceful landscape. "Mom is not ready to leave without you," he

he sought to penetrate the armor of conviction that had taken hold of his dad's heart. The room seemed to hold its breath, like a held breath waiting to be exhaled, as we all waited fo

r flowing around a rock, enveloping me in a sense of safety and security. "Let's go," he said, his voice low and husky, like a soft whisper in my ear, with a smile that crept up, like a sunrise slowly illuminating the horizon. His eyes crinkled at the corners, like a well-loved book, as he gazed at me, his expression softening, like a summe

delicate flower blooming in a cracked pot, as I kept turning and looking around, my eyes scanning the crowds with a mixture of fear and paranoia, like a rabbit constantly checking for predators. I was lik

s lay ahead. And for the first time, I doubted God's love, like a crack in a mirror, a small fissure that threatened to shatter the entire reflection. The thought crept in, like a thief in the night, stealing my peace and replacing it with uncertainty, like a dark cloud casting a shadow over my soul.

own my spine, like a cold wind blowing through a winter's night, as I wondered if we were truly alone in this fight. The Palace people, with their zealotry and intolerance, seemed to be the embodim

we walked away from the Palace, our footsteps echoing off the walls like a death knell. The words swirled in my brain, like a maelstrom, churni

small boat, adrift on a turbulent ocean, tossed about by waves of fear and confusion. How could a loving God allow us to suffer so, like a parent standi

n a nightmare, with no escape from the darkness that seemed to closing in around me. The questions swirled, like a vortex, pulling me down into the depths of desp

s, a constant presence, like a shadow that refused to leave our side. As I reached out to open the front door, my hand hesitated, like a bird hovering over a ne

ind, like a siren blaring in the dead of night. I couldn't believe it - our sanctuary, our haven, had been breached, like a fortress wall crumbling under siege. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, like a cold wind whisperi

a detective scrutinizing a clue, as he took in my expression, like a canvas painted with a mix of emotions. My face must have been a pi

eaves, yet insistent, like a river flowing relentlessly to the sea. His words hung in the air, like a challenge, a call to reveal the secrets that my face seemed to hold, like a locked treasure c

ard it, my finger extended, like an accusatory finger pointing out a crime scene. The words hung in the air, like a dark clo

p, like a puzzle solver trying to make sense of a complex clue, as he took in the damage, like a doctor assessing a patient's wounds. The lock's once-smooth surface

ouch. His eyes met mine, like two old friends sharing a knowing glance, and I could see the unspoken questions dancing in his mind, like a swirling storm of thoughts and emotions. Who coul

evealing a different emotion. He looked at us one after the other, his eyes scanning our faces, like a searchlight probing for clues in a dar

, as he seemed to be asking, "Could you have done this? Did you have a hand in this?" Then, he turned to Layla, his gaze softening slightly, like a summer breeze caressing

s to happen?" The questions swirled around us, like a whirlwind, as we stood there, each of us lost in our own thoughts, like three separate islands in a stormy sea.

ck whose mechanism had jammed. He had been circling around the yard, laughing and shouting with glee, like a bird singing its morning song, his tire screeching

. The little boy's eyes, like two shiny marbles, sparkled with curiosity, like a detective investigating a crime scene. He seemed to sense that so

umped off the tire and ran towards us, like a messenger delivering urgent news. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice like a gentle breeze on a summer day, his eyes wide with concern, li

rush, like a waterfall cascading down a rocky slope. And then, like a rabbit released from a trap, he sprinted away,

from view, like a leaf blown away by an autumn gust, leaving us standing there, like statues frozen in time. The silence that followed was like

he would reveal, like a puzzle waiting to be solved. And Layla, like a flower trembling in the breeze, seemed to sen

summer breeze carrying the scent of blooming flowers. The words were spoken softly, like a lullaby, but wit

t that pierced my heart, like a ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds. The simplicity of her response bel

sappearing from view, like a leaf floating away on a stream. The words hung in the air, like a lingering f

y ahead, like a traveler standing at a crossroads, unsure which path to take. The memory of her smile, like a snapshot in my mind, lingered

ought of entering our violated home, like a sanctuary desecrated, filled us with dread, like a dark cloud looming over us. But my husband, like a brave

shot, untouched and unblemished, like a work of art protected by a glass shield. The furniture, the decorations, the personal treasures, all remained in their rightful places, like soldiers standing at attention, w

choed in our minds, like a refrain in a haunting melody, why? Why would someone go to the trouble of breaking in, only to leave everyth

obe, seeking answers to the puzzle that lay before us. His eyes, like two shiny marble

arting from one object to another, like a bee flitting from flower to flower. My mind was a jumble of

a detective, searching for the missing piece, the key to unlocking the mystery that had unfolded under our roof. My son's question hung

e of purpose. "We're leaving tomorrow," I added, like a punctuation mark emphasizing the gravity of the situation. They both nodded, li

ible point, like a sailor lost at sea. His silence was palpable, like a heavy fog that refused to lift, and I

eat. But, to my dismay, I discovered that our gas, foodstuff, and water were nowhere to be found, like a magician'

impervious to weather, but his eyes flickered, like a candle flame dancing in the wind. We all ran back into the kitchen, like a team of detectives searching for clues, scouring eve

d shaking the very foundations of our sanity. "As soon as the day breaks, we're out of here!" I thundered, m

frustration. The floor creaked beneath my feet, like a groaning sigh, as if the very house itself was protest

t to escape its walls, to flee from the memories that lingered in every corner, like ghosts waiting to poun

he familiar, the comfortable, and the known, and venturing into the unknown, like pioneers exploring uncharted territory. The thought sent

nance. But there was nothing we could do, like prisoners trapped in a cell with no key in sight. My husband had gone out e

fallen asleep, like two flowers wilting in the scorching sun. But I remained in the living room, sitting in one of the

, gentle voice, like a summer rain shower on a parched earth, and it sent shivers down my spine, like a cold wind on a winter's night. I froze,

with fear, like a wild animal trapped in a cage. I was so frightened, like a chil

also laced with a hint of urgency, like a secret message delivered under the cover of darkness. She spoke in si

rtain, like a revealer of secrets, and peered out into the night, my eyes scanning the darkness, like a searchlight probing for a hidden truth. And th

h from my lips in a mixture of shock and disbelief. My eyes widened in wonder, like a door flu

ke a hunter on the scent of prey, as I sought to uncover the source of this unexpected bounty. I leaned forward, like a detective

led with a hint of mischief, like a playful imp hiding behind a mask of innocence. Her smile, like a sunrise breaking ove

eful meadow, soft and soothing, yet laced with a deep empathy and understanding. Her words were

e continued, her voice like a whispering wind carrying secrets and stories from far-off lands. Her eyes s

kindness, "because I know you must be hungry." Her voice was like a gentle melody, a symphony of love and gen

ng us that even in the most difficult times, there is always hope and always kindness to be found. And in that

h a mix of gratitude and humility. "Never mind, Layla, please go and eat your food," I said, my voice like a soft breeze on a summer day

thm of her determination. Her eyes, like two shining stars, sparkled with a fierce light, like a beacon guiding me through t

ve eaten too." Her words, like a gentle rain shower nourishing a parched garden, watered my heart, and I felt a surg

atement of unwavering determination, leaving no room for negotiation or compromise. Her words, lik

beggar receiving alms from a generous stranger. That little portion, like a precious gem, was all

uld make ends meet, how we would survive this difficult time. But then, I looked into Layla's eyes, shining like two bright stars in the dar

s that even in the darkest times, there is always hope, always kindness, and always love to be found. And as we ate, like a family sharing

rustling in the breeze, to tell him that we should leave, that it was time to depart, like a bird taking flight. But he refused, l

lifeline, clutched in my hand. But when we reached the parking spot, like a oasis in the desert, the car was nowhere to be found, like a mirage vanishi

a shipwrecked crew on a deserted island. The kids looked up at me, like two frightened rabbits seeking shelter, and I knew I had to think f

cont