Buried Alive (for miracle)

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me. My eyes widened in shock, like two doors flung open to reveal a astonishing surprise, as I took in the scene. It was as if time

small face, like a delicate porcelain doll, was aglow with a mixture of surprise and delight, as if he had stumbled upon a hidden treasure or discovered a secret gar

ever let him go. I hugged him so tightly, my embrace like a shield protecting him from the world, my heart overflowing with love and re

nt of suspended animation, her mind struggling to process the sudden turn of events, like a computer rebooting after a crash. Until, all of a sudden, Sammy called her name, his voice like a spark igniting a flame, jer

open, like two shining stars sparkling in the night sky. Her little legs moved quickly, like a tiny bird in flight, a

e breeze on a summer day, soothing and comforting, a symbol of the deep bond between siblings, a connection that only grew stronger with each passing day. As they embraced, their fac

othly over rounded rocks, as she gazed at him with eyes full of concern and compassion, her gaze p

pths of her emotions, as she searched for clues, for hints, for any sign of what he had endured, what he had faced, what he had

in a tranquil harbor after a long and turbulent journey. His eyes, like two stormy seas, began to calm, the waves of worry and fear slowly subsiding, as he pr

ir intentions shrouded in mystery. They took me to the back of the palace, a place of secrets and shadows, where the king's whispers held sway. I

ating began, a relentless rain of blows that left me black and blue, my body a mass of bruises, my spirit crushed. The king's orders were cle

presence, a being of light and love. A man came to me, dressed in white, his face shining like the sun, his eyes full of compass

ernity, until the early hours of the next day, when this pastor, a good Samaritan, found me and brought me to this place of safety and refuge. And

y eyes shut tight as if to savor the moment, my heart overflowing with joy and thanksgiving. My hand rose spontaneously, as if drawn b

o the background, and all that mattered was the connection between my soul and the divine. The words "Praise th

yes shining with tears of joy and appreciation, my heart still racing with the excitement of the moment. The world around me came back into focus, and I saw

son, a beacon of hope and kindness, his face radiating a warm and comforting smile. His eyes, like two shining stars, twink

ht words to express my thanks. His selfless act of kindness, his unwavering support, and his unshakeable fait

and compassion. And so, I said it again, with all the conviction in my heart, "Thank you sir", my voice

tude, his eyes shining with a sense of wonder, as if still try

me and rest our weary souls. And as soon as we sat, the weight of our emotions sinking into the soft cushions, Sammy

ain, like a river overflowing its banks, as the pain and grief that I had been trying to hold back came rushing forward, threatening to engulf me once more. The question hun

hen shifting to his sister, who sat beside me, her body shaking with sobs, her face contorted in anguis

ng in a sea of uncertainty. The urgency in his tone was like a jolt, snapping me back to reality, and I immediately

rs, the worries, the pain, and the tears that had been shed. I told him about the journey we had been on, the struggles we had faced, and the hopes we had held onto.

g to come out. I stuttered, my mouth dry, my mind racing, as I struggled to find the right words to tell my son t

y, as he gazed at me with an expressionless face, like a mask hiding his true feelings. "Did something happen?" he

into sobs, my body shaking, my heart aching, as the pain and grief that I had been trying to contain finally overflowed. The wo

stormy night, shattering the fragile calm that had settled over us. The words hung in the air,

spark igniting a flame, as the shock and pain of the revelation spread through us all, like a wildfire raging out of control. The room seemed to spin, like a vo

, his mouth agape in disbelief, as if the words had struck him like a thunderbolt. His eyes widened in

urst of pent-up emotions, as he grasped for answers to the tragedy that had unfolded. His hands trembled

s, as if the weight of the memory was still too much to bear. The word "yesterday" hung in the air, like a stark remin

anguish, as if the words were being torn from his very soul. His face contorted in agony, like a r

el shattered by the weight of grief. He broke down in tears, his sobs racking his body, as he th

my arms around him, trying to absorb some of the pain, to share the burden of his grief, as we both succumbed to the torrent of emotions that had been unl

ching for any hint of uncertainty, any glimmer of hope that this unimaginable horror might not be true. His gaze was like a

ad nodding in affirmation, as if to confirm the unspeakable fate that had befallen my beloved husband. The word "yes" hung in the air, like a

d us. His expression contorted, like a reflection of the pain that gripped his heart, as he struggled to comprehend the unimaginable suffering that his father had

now sitting at the edge of the couch, his eyes fixed intently on me. The question hung in the air, like a chall

his people had him killed" I continued, the sentence hanging in the air like a dark cloud, a stark reminder of the brutal fate that h

till have this strong belief that he's not dead" I continued, the words tumbling out, like a confession, a declaration of faith in the face of overwhelming despair. The pastor's

deep sense of concern and compassion, as he leaned forward, his eyes fixed intently on me. The question hung in

General overseer too, and some church elders" I continued, the words tumbling out, like a plan, a strategy, to address the wrong that had been done. The mention of the G

As I spoke, I wiped tears off my face, the gesture a reminder of the pain and grief that still lingered, but also a sign of determination, of a resolve to see this through, to ensure that my husband's sacrifice would no

bling out in a passionate plea, as if the very thought of delay was unacceptable. "The Kingdom of God suffereth violence, and only the violent take

he stood up, his movements swift and decisive, like a man on a mission. "See, wait for me, let me quickly take a shower. We are hea

as right. The police station, once a daunting prospect, now seemed like a beacon of hope, a place where justice might finally be served. And I knew, in that

ion, a touch of uncertainty, as if seeking guidance, seeking approval, before taking the next step. The question hung in th

ome like this without doing anything, even God in Heaven will punish me" He said, his words a stern rebuke, a reminder of the gravity of the situatio

to ponder his words, to reflect on the weight of his responsibility, the burden of his conscience. The silence that followed was like a solemn reminder, a call

that the right thing to do?" I quizzed, my voice barely above a whisper, my words laced with uncertainty, as if questioning the wisdom of our acti

piercing, intense, like a window to his soul. His eyes were already so red and swollen, a testament to the tears he had shed, the

ed to ask, "What else can we do, Mother? How else can we seek justice for Father?" The silence that followed was like a so

engulfed us. "If you tell the G. O. now, what else do you think he will do?" He continued, his voice laced with skepticism, as if questioning the efficacy of seeking help from the church le

grief was crushing him. The pain in his voice was like a raw wound, a bleeding heart, that see

h a hint of curiosity, a desire to understand, to piece together the events that had led to this tragedy. The question hung in th

en shaken to the core. And then, as if the pent-up emotions could no longer be contained, I let out a very loud scream, a primal wail that

that had taken hold of me. "He was buried right before our very eyes" I said, my voice now cracking with sobs, the words tumbling out in a torrent

respite, no escape. My daughter's eyes welled up with tears, as if she too, felt the weight of that moment, as if she too, was reliving the h

rise!!!" The pastor sang, his voice booming, his words echoing through the room, like a clarion call to action, a battle cry against the forces of darkn

eemed to take on a new meaning, a new urgency, as we pleaded with God to arise, to scatter our enemies, to bring justice to the wicked. The air was electric wi

tion, our feet marching in unison, our hearts pounding with purpose, as if we were an army of righteousness, determined to confront the forces of evil, to brin

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