Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Impossible

Peter knew it was going to be a bad day when the women burst into the house in screaming, laughing, crying hysterics. Actually, he'd known it was going to be a bad day ever since Friday. Running in fear, cowering in shadows, hiding his face whenever anyone came near...it was no way to live, but this weekend it was the only way to live.

And now came the hysterical women, telling wild stories of angels and grave robbers and gardeners who aren't really gardeners. I need this foolishness like I need more holes in my nets, he thought. There was no way out of it, though; he and John were going to have to visit the grave, simply to pacify these crazy women.

Okay, so maybe they weren't crazy; the stone that guarded the tomb entrance was definitely not in place. And the Roman soldiers, who guarded the stone that guarded the tomb - they were gone also. Peter stepped fearfully into the dim, eerie shadows of the grave, and felt the shiver of the horror of death in his bones.

But there was no death here - only the skin of death, the limp and wrinkled shroud that should have contained a body, but did not.

Peter scowled. John laughed. That's the difference between us, Peter thought, John never takes anything seriously. It's all a joke, even in the face of death. But John was not laughing for mirth alone, his laughter had the power of faith and the hope of eternity ringing in every peal.

Peter scowled again, and walked away shaking his head.

Later, as the eleven - twelve, minus the evil betrayer, a dozen less the cowardly traitor - sat around in the shadows of a locked and curtained room, talking in perplexed and frightened whispers, the shadows scurried to the corners of the room and a dazzling, glorious apparition appeared in front of them.

Peter stared. His eyes were wide, his mouth was open, and his knees buckled under him. He tried to speak, but no words would come out of his mouth; only one sound made it past his lips. And now he understood the source of John's pealing laughter.

Peter knew it was going to be a bad day, but...

Sometimes, when life goes from bad to worse, and from worse to impossible, the impossible becomes the playground for the greatest victories.

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