(Short Story and Poetry Categories)

(scroll down and click on the names and titles to read their stories in full.  Discuss them on the forum)

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Poetry Category

ACM’s T.S. Eliot Award for 1st Place

Goes to Nancy Hance for The King’s Garden

ACM’s John Donne Award for 2nd Place

Goes to Sarah Andersen for My Name

ACM’s George Herbert Award for 3rd Place

Goes to Nancy Hance for Beneath the Robe of Righteousness

Honorable Mentions:

The Francis Thompson Award:  Kristina Benham for Purpose
The Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Award:   Stephen Kingsley for The Call to Worship

19 and up category

The Athanatos Christian Ministries C.S. Lewis Award (1st Prize)

Goes to Graham Kell for his story, Swimming Blind

Author of Hitler, the Holocaust, and the Bible, Joseph Keysor, is proud to sponsor the GK Chesterton Award (2nd Prize)

Which goes to Elizabeth Chance for her story, His Scars for Mine

Three Third Prizes- Presented in Alphabetical Order by Last Name

Athanatos Christian Ministries presents the Fyodor Dostoyevsky Award (3rd Prize)

To Derek Elkins for Theophany.

ChristianManuscriptSubmission presents the Leo Tolstoy Award (3rd Prize)

Which goes to Wallace Heller for Angel’s Mercy

An Anonymous Sponsor presents the George MacDonald Award (3rd prize)

Which goes to Katherine Thompson for They Left us the Moon.

Honorable Mentions

The Dante Award: Goes to Kathleen Moulton for Unfinished Bridges
The William Shakespeare Award: Goes to Sally Bishop for Shattered Neon

The John Wycliffe Award

Not given this year.

High School Category

The Athanatos Online Apologetics Academy JRR Tolkien Award (1st Prize)

Goes to Jennifer van den Bogerd for The Rain Sequence.

The Confident Christianity Dorothy Sayer’s Award (2nd Prize)

Goes to Caroline Carmichael for Belleau Wood.

Third Prizes- Presented in Alphabetical Order by Last Name

The John Milton Award (3rd Prize)

Goes to Rebecca Chance for The Dissenters.

The William Blake Award (3rd Prize)

Goes to Cody Milner for The Viking

The Sojourner Leatherwork Flannery O’Connor Award (3rd Prize)

Goes to Myra Stull for The  Cabin

Honorable Mentions

The Graham Greene Award: Goes to Meghan Gorecki – Thus Far .
The Charles Williams Award: Goes to Hannah Lowie - The Call .

To contact any of these authors for any reason you may request their contact information through the contest administrators at director@athanatosministries.org.  Most of them have indicated that they are available for interview.  Anthony Horvath, the executive director of Athanatos Christian Ministries, which is the host of the contest, is also available for interviews.

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The 2010 Anonymously Sponsored

George Macdonald Award

Goes to:

Katherine Thompson

The Plains, OH

Third Place

(category:  19 and up)

Bio:

Katherine Thompson is a punster who always wins family poetry contests. Writing is however, an endeavor that can only be pursued in the corners of her life. She has strong opinions about humor and has made an intellectual hobby of refining and defining her sense of the absurd. She really enjoys Agatha Christie and is in the process of writing a book length analysis of the Christian worldview found therein.  Her foremost vocation is music, specifically the violin which she plays (odd word for it!) whenever and where ever (except nudist colonies) anyone will pay her. She just finished her MM in violin performance and will be working at Shar Music as she auditions for orchestral work.

To contact Katherine Thompson you may seek his contact information through the contest administrators by sending an email to director@athanatosministries.org.

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They Left Us the Moon

Katherine Thompson

“More teeth than IQ, for all the people’s plaudits,” muttered old Professor Doctor Billy T. Kidd to himself as he read the evening news.

“These people! What a mindless mob of plebian drones…don’t they see that the fluctuations in the magnetic field are probably normal? How many thousand years have people populated the planet? Now, they think they control the magnetic field. A few years of data on what may or may not be a dwindling field is hardly enough for the panic of the politicians and the prophets of the people! Worst of all, here is this pathetic, pompous, half-baked, pickle-faced…..personage…. going to the UN with a possible “solution” to take 5 years and 42 quadrillion credits from all over the earth. I wonder what kind of solution he has.”

———————

Three days later the world went wild over the Great President’s plan to preserve the magnetic field. The world breathed a sigh of relief. They could stop the shifting and dwindling of the magnetic field. It was, after all, a worldwide crisis; one for which every last human on earth was responsible. Not since the popular demise of the doctrine of original sin had the collective whole of humanity felt such a dense burden of individual wrongdoing.

The weight of transgression was oppressive and the grief of the multitude unthinkable. Their radios! In their cars and in their homes, their offices and laptops: their lives! Their lives and their fathers’ lives before them.

Their radio waves were causing such a strong atmospheric disturbance that the whole magnetic field of the entire world was dwindling. It was their fault, theirs and their fathers guilty radio waves that, in the next ten to seventeen million years, would ultimately cost our lovely home planet our beautiful moon. Yes, and without the moon, our eco-structure would implode and we would surely die.

It was possible, the prophets of the people proclaimed, that those first people with radios were ignorant of the depth of ecological depravity they were sinking us into. They are no less to blame, proclaimed the prophets of the people. They perpetrated and perpetuated a perfect calamity upon posterity. The fault is our parents’, though we willingly participated. Until now!

Salvation from the great Unified States[1]! The luminous Great President and his sagacious staff of scientists had discovered a way to redeem the earth’s magnetic field and wipe the slate clean! Five years of penitential toil, the world over, and the wealth of the universe for the redemption of the people, but the whole world wholeheartedly and unanimously agreed. It was a small price to pay. It was the least they could do.

In the 24th year of the luminous Great President, the Unified States presented the world with the Global Magnetic Repositioning System. The unified people’s party of Republicrats praised the perspicacity and unprecedented perseverance of the President and his sagacious staff scientists. The plan, patiently produced by the premier physicists of the President’s panel, was to dig a hole to China. It sounded like a child’s dream, but it was the whole plan. Apparently, if a preposterously prodigious passageway were produced, spanning from Pennsylvania to Peking[2], the problem would correct itself perfectly, permanently and promptly. The dirt was packed off to Holland, Louisiana, and Venice to shore up the seashore and preserve the historical anomalies that had particularly fond memories for the Great President and his counterparts in Europe, Asia and Africa. (No one asked the continent of Australia for input. Doubtless they agreed.)

———————

Meanwhile, back at the ranch… the Texans were deeply concerned. In July of 2036, Texas had unanimously voted to secede from the Union. The Great President was distressed and insulted and consequently decided to allow the secession. And so Texas was no longer a part of the Union, but the President did not give up his sovereignty. Instead, he decreed all Texans outlawed; denied them the right to vote and fenced them in. Since then, Texas had served the Unification as a penal colony and general cesspool.  Over half the military force of the Unified States was stationed at the Texas border to prevent the outlaws from getting out into the law.

After that date, all heretical dissenters were sentenced to life in Texas. New arrivals were summarily baptized by whichever branch of Christianity picked them up first (unless it was redundant).

By the year of Our Lord 2051, or the 24th year of His Luminescence’s reign, Texas was crowded with every imaginable sort of dissenter. The principal dissenters were the Christians, but there were a fair number of old Hippies, anarchists, and various outraged intellectual individualists as well.

Two old gentlemen from the first wave of convicted thinkers sat stewing over their dinner and the problem of the presidential solution. Professor Doctors Billy Kidd and Wilton Lettuce had ignored the roast in the oven while agreeing and counter-agreeing that the whole situation did not ‘withstand the test of reasonableness’.

“It doesn’t withstand the test of reasonableness!”

“That’s not English, Billy, what do you mean?”

“Of course it’s not English. It’s something Candy says when her arithmetic explodes and gives an extraordinarily stupid answer, like 2057 minus1988 equals 969.”

“Your sister is a piece of work.”

“No kaka Sherlock-ah.” Professor Doctor Kidd sniffed the air and opened the oven. Waves of smoke rolled in like a vengeful tide.

“Crappety-crap, we’ve killed dinner.” He choked.

“It was dead to start with!” Professor Lettuce never missed an opportunity to present the facts.

“Well, now it’s very dead. And we will be too, if we can’t stop his Lunacy the President.”

“But we don’t know what’s wrong yet.”

“We’ll figure it out. We’ve got a little while before the Braunschweiger hits the fan. This is a five year plan for the new redemption of man. It looks more impressive than the old Redemption, but it will accomplish nothing.”

“If we’re very, very lucky.”

“Eh?” Professor Kidd poked the beefy brick meditatively, wondering if it were still somewhat edible.

“We’ll be very, very lucky if it accomplishes nothing.”

“Oh.”

They ate at MacDonald’s that night before returning to their lab to begin to commence to start unraveling the knotty problems in the sagacious staff scientists’ singular solution. They didn’t hurry. They were old.

Three years of thinking, experiments and Candy’s mathematical ‘help’ passed quietly in Texas while the digging of the Ecstatics continued in the world outside.  The pride of the President in his well run world was prodigious. His panoptic network of people’s prophets reported that the populace was well pleased with the President’s proactive plan. The Pennsylvanians were two thirds done with their half of the tunnel, and the Chinese were two thirds done with theirs. That ought to mean there was only one third left: in the center of the earth. It’s reasonable. At any rate, the end of the tunnel was in sight, though there was no light yet.

“Eureka!” Professor Doctor Lettuce was galvanized into dance. He jigged around in the glory of discover like a mad Pan. He sang hymns about the end of the world. He hauled Professor Doctor Kidd off his lazy posterior portion and galloped arm in arm around the laboratory without telling Professor Doctor Kidd why they were rejoicing.

“Oh, mine esteemed colleague! Oh, brother in arms! Oh, frabjous day! Oh! CRAP!!!”

Reality hit Professor Doctor Lettuce across the solar plexus (not a good place for an old professor doctor to get hit.)

“Let go of me, you oaf! Explicate!” Professor Doctor Kidd was not as flexible a dancer as his friend and he was inclined to resented this sudden interruption to what he styled ‘his thoughts’. It was more nearly a nap, but why split hairs? Napping was good for thought, and thinking had long been his habit after lunching.

“It’s like this.”

Professor Doctor Kidd eventually got the drift of his friend’s learned discourse. He wanted his afternoon tea. Suddenly, all that seemed trivial and insignificant! Why, if his friend was right, and good old Lettuce was always right, why then…!

“Wilton! Dear friend! If this be true, we must warn the President. He’s the only one who can put an end to this and prevent chaos from ensuing! If only he had nearly as high an IQ as the number of shiny teeth he appears to posses! I hope he’ll understand your high rhetoric.”

“You are always saying that, but I think the President is a very savvy politico who knows exactly what he’s doing, and will listen to pure reason and its fruits.”

“Humph. Well, Watson, we can but try.”

“Are you quoting Sherlock Holmes again?”

“Obviously. Is your name Watson?”

———————

“Excuse me, your Luminosity, there is an urgent letter from Texas just arrived by pigeon.”

“Pigeon? That’s nonsense! Stop wasting my valuable time, Sebastian, can’t you see I’m preoccupied?”

“Yes, Sir, nevertheless, Sir, there is a letter, Sir, brought in installments, Sir, by carrier pigeon, Sir, and it does seem rather important, Sir, if you’ll excuse me, Sir.”

“Don’t grovel. Bring me the fragments and leave me to my preoccupations.”

“Yes, Sir, sorry, Sir, at once, Sir.”

“Oh, and Sebastian, I’ll probably need some tape while you’re at it. Sebastian? Sebastian? Oh, curse the idiot! He’s never where he should be!”

“Sir?” the accursed was at his side.

“Gah!!!!” The President had not known.

“Sir, if you will wait a moment, your staff of taping professionals will do that tiresome task for you, Sir.”

“Fine. Now get out!”

“Sir.”

———————

A few hours passed in Washington D.C. and suddenly a great peal of laughter resounded from the Conical Office[3]. It echoed off the improbable walls and wafted into the street. A stray passer-by wondered if the Great One had lost his mind. Shortly thereafter, the stray found himself in Texas, very wet indeed; having been dumped too near the full immersion Baptists and the conveniently located Gulf.

“Sebastian!”

“Sir?” from the omnipresent idiot.

“Gah!!!!” Sebastian’s proclivity for catlike movement disconcerted the Great President. He was a puppy person.

“I have a short message for the pigeons. Take it down, cut it up, attach it to the pigeons, and send it to these Professor Doctors of Hilarity.”

———————

The pigeons were the special pride of Candy Bahr, Professor Doctor Kidd’s elder sister. Her arithmetic was shaky but her house was clean, and that is more than could be said of her brother or his friend. The pigeons came back to her one Thursday afternoon, and she rejoiced to see her pretty poultry return.  At least for a little while the earth was normal, and Candy was a smiley person who looked for the bright, happy things everywhere.  She sang extracts of ironic arias to the little birdies while she fed them and untied the strips of paper from their scrawny ankles. The birdies cooed. Abruptly, she turned from the birds and began to unravel and tape together the Great President’s luminescent letter.

“Dear Professor Doctors Kidd and Lettuce,”

“You are unmitigated asses, both of you.”

“Your suspicions are those of lunatics and I will”

“not regard them further. I must say, however, th”

“at your concern seems genuine and though it is”

“unnecessary, it afforded me a pleasant afternoon,”

“so thank you, gentlemen and goodbye.”

“His Luminescence the Great President”

“of the Unified and Glorious States of”

“America”

Candy sighed. Her brother would be so very full of himself now. He’d run around and say ‘I told you so — the President has no brain’. He’d probably dredge up that old line about IQ and teeth. Hopefully he’d forget that he once equated the title “Luminescence” with the shiny-ness of the leader’s teeth.

Professor Doctor Wilton Lettuce came in from feeding the rabbits. Glancing at the table, he divined the problem.

“So, Candy, Billy was right.”

“Sure thing, old buddy old pal.” Candy shook her head and continued.

“Do you think it was a bad idea to send it by pigeon? Did that make it worse? I mean, would he have been more likely to take us seriously without the poultry motif?”

“Slow down, Candy. No, I don’t think he’d have taken us more seriously. I think he’d never have seen the warning at all. You know the ramifications of this plan of his. We had to try.”

“Actually Wilton, I have no idea what the ramifications are. You told the President in clear English, but you two old dodgers always try to tell me scientifically. What in tarnation ARE the ramifications?”

“Oh dear, Candy, sit down while you can.”

“What?!”

“In plain simple boring English,”

“English is not boring, Wilton. Be polite.”

“Yes. Anyway, without its lovely mathematic proof, the trouble is that this hole through the center of the earth will erase the surface gravity of the earth.”

“You’re joking!”

“No, I’m not. It’s true. Billy and I do not know if the trauma will be permanent, but there is no doubt that gravity will cease to exist at least for a while as soon as the Pennsylvanians and the Chinese meet each other at the center of the Earth.”

“Well, the Texans will listen to us. We still have a little while to strap ourselves down.”

“Well, straps are good, but a gravity machine would be better.”

“Got one lying around?”

“Goodness, Candy, don’t be silly. We’ll invent one.”

“You’ll need help. I’ll call Billy.”

———————

Far away, around the world, the digging and delving continued. People planned parties and invited their local prophets and Republicrat representatives. The President prepared his panegyric and the staff scientists were serenaded with songs of success. The day of salvation from the terrors of dwindling magnetism was at hand. The sweat of man’s brow would save mankind from the hell of the moonless apocalypse.  As the final year of work approached, more and more people proceeded to Pennsylvania to proffer their pennies and prowess to speed the progress of the plan of salvation from their own self-inflicted terror. Mass hysteria was replaced by mass pride in a job well done and few, if any good citizens of the Unified States of America were conscious of any doubt at all. The few who entertained such silly thoughts were sent to Texas and dunked. (The continent of Australia remained confused and hoped for the best.)

Happily blind, humanity sped toward destruction in pursuit of redemption.

———————

The whole world scampered with activity. The Texans invented straps, buckles and clamps while Professor Doctors Kidd and Lettuce created a gravity machine. The world dug furiously towards its doom. Australia shrugged her shoulders. Time passed. Two years, one year, and then the day dawned when God looked down on Earth and saw right through her, as through a cored apple. Heaven wept, for Professor Doctor Lettuce’s math, as always, was correct.

———————

“My fellow Americans! On this peculiarly hallowed day, we have achieved our goal! We, yes we, have overcome our past. We, we alone, have transcended our wrongdoing. We have erased the past and may embrace the future. The effect of the irresponsible radio waves is eradicated. We have created the remission of the past’s transmissions, if you will permit me to express myself so. And now, citizens of the world, in just 13 seconds the final break will be made and we shall know ourselves to be the conquerors of our world and even of our very nature!

Citizens of the world, I give you redemptiooooooooooooon!!!!!!!!!!”

———————

His Luminescence and all his fellow Americans, people’s prophets and sagacious staff scientists flew into the air, through the air, past the air, beyond the air, and met the Redeemer.

———————

“For goodness sake, Billy, turn the thingummy-widget on already!”

“Candy, if it’s on before gravity stops, there will be double gravity and that would be bad.”

“Understatement, Billy.”

“Yes, Wilton, and we could tell her exactly what would happen, but then she would get mad at us.”

“Fair enooooough!!! Hit the red button already!!!!!”

The Texans were strapped down and bolted in. Professor Doctor Billy Kidd whacked the red button on the new gravity machine one second after he probably should have, but they stayed on Earth until it was time to go Home to their Redeemer.

Australia held onto whatever it could find. Some folks lived long enough to invent gravity machines with one hand while flying around upside down. By and large, those were the Australian Christians, the old Hippies, and various outraged intellectual individualists.

———————

The damage seems to be permanent. The surface of the world continues without gravity of its own. The gravity machine business is booming and some parts of the world are being colonized again. We cannot reverse the process. They buried all the dirt under water in Louisiana and Venice and Holland. Until the end of time we will have to deal with the disaster of a human solution for the world. But, the magnetic field is stable. It appears the moon will be with us until the end of Time.

.

.

.

.

.

Postscript: Names slightly modified to produce the greatest comic effect. Also, I recognize my debt to a handful of great writers and comedians. My use of their thoughts is a tribute and not intended to damage, but rather bolster their well deserved reputations. This list is short but not included. If anyone wants to see it, write, and I’ll gladly provide the credits.

[2] “The Chinese reverted to the old Anglicized spelling to honor the Great President in the 12^th year of his light.” SourceofallKnowledge.gov

[3] Naturally there was some amount of remodeling done at the time of the Great President’s fourth inauguration.

SourceofallKnowledge.gov

is proud to present the 2010

C.S. Lewis Award

to

Graham Kell

Palmwoods, Australia

1st Place

(Category:  19 and up)

Bio:

Graham holds a Th.M from Dallas Theological Seminary and B.Sc in Natural Resource Management from Adelaide University. He loves writing almost as much as reading, and works as a tour guide in Israel and a teaching pastor at Chancellor Park Community Church on Australia’s Sunshine Coast. Graham is a wildlife ranger by trade, an avid student of Biblical history, and a self-confessed geography geek.

He has been married to Rachel for 18 brilliant years and has two boys Josh and Brad who love life and keep him busy with movie making and soccer coaching.

To contact Graham you may seek his contact information through the contest administrators by sending an email to director@athanatosministries.org.

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Swimming Blind.

by Graham Kell

copyright 2010, All Rights Reserved

Blue Mountains, New South Wales, Australia

Saturday

Looking at the rocks below, Riley couldn’t believe it had come to this, and he knew now that that was his problem—he couldn’t believe. Or wouldn’t. She had told him as much in her last words to him on Wednesday, right before the accident.

The accident—twisted metal, crimson asphalt. He shook his head, wouldn’t let his mind revisit the scene. Not ever. The visions had to end, and this was how they would. A single step into nothing and it would all be over. A step his stubborn foot refused to take.

Riley looked down again. Big mistake. The rocks too far below looked angry. Unforgiving. Exactly what he deserved, he knew, but still… The stream behind sounded soothing, inviting. It was his favorite place, this cliff top stream. One last look into its pools wouldn’t hurt he told himself, and if it did that was okay too. He deserved hurt.

His feet backed away from the edge more easily than they had approached it.

The stream was slow enough and the sky pink enough for his nocturnal friend to have ventured out. Watching the platypus in the evening light had always been his escape, but watching it in light of this week’s tragedy, it became a revelation of sorts. One he couldn’t escape. It was as if the animal’s behavior was mimicking his own. He could barely watch, yet he could barely look away.

The platypus closed its eyes and dived with the tiny telltale ‘plop.’ Riley’s heart sank faster than the animal as he looked on, as if through different eyes.

Why haven’t I noticed this before? I must have watched this guy a hundred times, but never really seen it…

He started to cry, which wasn’t uncommon since Wednesday, but this was different. This was over a platypus. Or was it something more? His daughter Bec would have called it a sign, or something like that. Fate maybe. But Riley had already decided his fate.

He staggered back to the cliff. His breathing was short, the body clearly resisting the demand being made by the mind to jump. It was a war and he was unsure who would win. If his mind won, then his body would suffer, albeit briefly. If his body won, then his mind would suffer, and who knows how long that would last? He wanted to kick himself for over-analyzing even this simple act, but he couldn’t lift his foot.

Riley you fool, you can’t even do this right.

The thought of the platypus swimming blind wouldn’t leave.

~~~

Sydney, five days earlier

Monday

“There’s design in everything dad, just open your eyes.” She was looking through her wardrobe but dressing for a fight. Again. He was dressing for work. Pants that matched his blue eyes, shirt that matched his mop of brown hair.

Riley knew he didn’t have time for this, knew he shouldn’t bite back, but the topic of Intelligent Design was bait he couldn’t resist, and Bec knew it.

“Open my eyes?” He hated the insinuation that it was him who was blind. He hated that Bec was a flaming creationist. He hated that he hated talking with his own daughter. He wanted to say Sorry honey, can’t we talk about something else?

Instead Riley said, “I don’t buy into your fairy tales Bec. It’s that simple”

It hit the button he intended but led to a religious tirade he didn’t. Her heart was in the right place he was certain of that, but her head clearly wasn’t. How could she believe this God stuff after all he had taught her? It must be her mother in her, he thought as she continued her God rant. Sue had been religious when she was about Bec’s age. Maybe it would wear off.

“Bec,” he interrupted with raised palm, “your very reasoning only proves mine.”

“Spare your lecture-talk for Uni dad.”

“I’m just saying… the evolutionary process is what led to the formation of ideas. So the very fact that you have ideas proves that that process is at work.”

The door slammed before he realized it was him who slammed it. Whoops. Still, he hoped it would shake off the tacky poster stuck to her door. The heavens declare the glory of God. Creation shouts His message. It was no doubt stuck there for his “benefit.”

Teenagers!

He was done for today, too tired to listen to this rubbish. Or maybe too proud, that’s what Sue always said. “You think you know everything Riley, and I hate it because you do!”

As professor of evolutionary biology, he was well learned and well respected. Proud perhaps but why not? People looked up to him everywhere. Except at home. Perhaps that’s why he spent so little time here.

“She driving you mad again Rile?” Sue asked from the kitchen as he flew past.

He backed up. “It’s not that we believe different things that bothers me. It’s that she belittles what I believe… what I know!”

“And you don’t ever belittle what she believes? What she knows?”

“That’s different.” He knew it would sound lame even before he said it.

Sue looked the other way and rolled her eyes.

“And don’t roll your eyes at me.” He knew her too well, “You know what I mean.”

She did because she knew him well too, and deep down, he loved his daughter. On the surface though, they clashed.

“I know the job consumes me at times and that’s her main beef, but it’s like… this is what I’m here to do. This is where I was created to be.” He hated even using that word but it was the best way to describe his conviction.

“So you were created to be a professor more than a husband and dad?” She said it half mocking, but he knew she was half serious. “What about home Rile? Isn’t this where you were created to be?”

“Don’t you start too. I’m going to the office,” he said, slamming another door.

“Surprise, surprise,” she said to no one in particular, and continued cutting carrots that he wouldn’t be home to eat.

~~~

Tuesday

Life on campus was much more predictable. His office was a home and much like his life—clean, organized, symmetrical. No dirt could be found, no unfiled taxes lay hidden, no pictures hung crooked. Like every portrait of Riley’s life, the frames on his wall were square and bright. The picture of his family was the largest. Him, Sue, Bec. They hung right above the sofa where she sat.

She had delivered the inter-office mail as she did every Tuesday, and each week she stayed a little longer. Her visits kept him from work but Riley didn’t mind because they also kept him from thinking about home.

Marie was his student, so she was out of bounds but she was nice. Kind. Interested in him. She was certainly no Sue in experience, but Sue was certainly no Marie in age. The truth is, this bright eyed student before him was not a lot older than Bec, a fact that bothered him but only when he thought about it. He tried not to. It didn’t help that Bec was staring him down from the picture frame.

Riley averted his eyes, which wasn’t difficult with Marie sitting in front of him. She wore a mismatch of multi-colored clothes but it worked for her. She was fresh and bright, the type of girl a guy would buy from a shelf if such shelves existed.

“I like your theory,” she said.

I like you, he wanted to say. “Which theory’s that?” Riley walked to the window and looked out, mostly to escape his daughter’s stare.

“The one that our progress puts us at the pinnacle of our own lives. ‘Captain of our souls,’ you called it. That there is no higher power, so we can decide whatever’s best for us. We can do whatever’s best for us… if you know what I mean.”

They’d danced a little closer in their conversations each time. Truth is, he was beginning to enjoy the tango and he could tell, so was she.

When he turned back to face her she was standing inches from his face. Neither moved and neither spoke until she took her mail cart and left, turning with a smile on her way out.

Whoa man, that was too close. Or was it? Shouldn’t he practice what he preaches? Isn’t he the captain of his soul, the decider of his fate? A folded note on the sofa pulled him from his thoughts. He opened it.

Marie’s phone number.

~~~

Wednesday morning

Breakfast was rarely enjoyed together, and this morning proved why. Sue was cranky. The look in her eyes suggested she knew about the note, but Riley had committed the number to memory and thrown away the evidence. Bec was brooding over her Bible. “Morning quiet time.” If only she’d stay quiet. Riley was unusually eager to get to work.

Walking out the door, toast in mouth, he said, “I may be late. Got my lecture on monotreme evolution at three.” Platypuses, his favorite subject. He used them often in debates with Bec, saying they built so strongly to the evolutionary tree he could build a house in it.

“You’re picking up Bec from basketball. Don’t forget!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Slam.

Bec was trying to hide her feelings. Sue wasn’t. “I’m so sorry dear, I don’t know what’s got into him lately.”

“It’s not what’s got into him mum and you know it. It’s Who’s got into me. Dad’s jealous of God’s place in my life…”

“Honey…”

“No, it’s true. He wants to be number one, always has, you know that. Top of the evolutionary ladder and all that. That’s why I fight him on it. I know I shouldn’t, but I want him to see that he’ll always be my daddy. He just can’t be my king.”

Sue smiled. “You’re a reflection of me without the wrinkles. I had that passion once.”

“What happened?”

“Your father. Now, get ready, and don’t forget your basketball shoes this time.”

~~~

Rehearsing his lecture in the car, Riley thought about spending his morning in the mountains. There was a stream near a cliff top that epitomized peace. It was the perfect place to prepare.  The young platypus that frequented the ponds provided him with most of his lecture slides. Riley looked over his shoulder to the back seat. No camera. Maybe another day.

He headed to the office instead.

~~~

Notes spread across his desk, he couldn’t concentrate. Marie’s number was playing in his mind like a song he couldn’t shake. He dialed and closed his eyes while he waited.

“Thought you’d never call,” she answered. Caller ID ruined his plan to hang up. No bailing out now.

“So you want some private tutoring?” He was blushing. What was he, 15 years old?

“Thought you’d never ask! I’m free later today.”

He jotted her address on his lecture notes. It was arranged.

~~~

Wednesday afternoon.

Riley ran his palms up the smooth mahogany of the podium that gleamed under the spotlight. The room was filling. This was his kingdom and these were his subjects, eager for wisdom. His wisdom. It was where he was created to be. He turned on his lapel mic.

“There are forces in this universe that direct life to inevitable ends.” Not even Riley could tell if he was talking about evolution or his own urges. An image of the cliff top creek faded onto the screen behind him.

“The platypus exists on an evolutionary limb so pure that it provides a clear window into the past. We all know this. My contention though is that it also demonstrates the power of evolutionary force, to have combined so many different traits from so many other limbs. The bill, the webbed feet, the mammalian anatomy, the electromagnetic sense, the poisonous spur. They all come together as a blueprint for what any species can do. Us included. No divine force necessary. This creature was the master of its own destiny.”

And so it went for nearly two hours, ending in applause matched only by the thunder outside. A storm was gathering.

Exhausted from the presentation, Riley figured he deserved a reward. He deserved some me-time. The drive to Marie’s apartment happened on autopilot. It was the force of the universe driving him to an inevitable end. No divine force necessary. Or wanted.

The rain started.

~~~

Huddled under an umbrella, Bec considered going back inside the stadium to keep warm. Where was dad? She fumbled for her phone and dialed his number. It went to voice mail.

~~~

Wednesday evening

The fireplace did nothing to thaw the coldness Riley felt inside. Questions flooded his mind. What had he done? Was he this sort of guy? What about Sue, what about Bec?

Bec! He’d forgotten to pick her up. He grabbed his phone. 3 messages. He reluctantly hit play.

Message one. “Dad, I don’t know where you are. I’m still outside basketball, but I’ll call mum to come get me. Guess your lecture went late. Sorry for the way I’ve been. I do love you, I just wish you’d believe. I guess you can’t. Anyway, this isn’t the time to talk. I’ll see you at home.”

Message two. “Riley I can’t believe you forgot Bec! Don’t worry, I’ll get her, the poor thing. She’s outside in the rain. Look, we’ll talk later. I’ll see you at home.”

Message three. “Sir this is Officer Kent from the Hills PD. Please return this call a. s. a. p. Thank you sir.”

The police? He didn’t even say goodbye to Marie.

The drive home was slowed by the rain and an accident up ahead. It was difficult to see what had happened through the rain. Why did he always want to look anyway? Flashing police lights lit a crumpled car in a ditch.

Police? Surely this wasn’t the reason for the message on his cell. The mere thought of it made his heart skip a beat. What he saw next made it stop. His wife’s car. Two covered bodies spilled on the road.

His world spun. The dash across the highway was in slow motion. His skin went white, his eyes couldn’t focus through the rain, or was it the tears?

He fell to the side of the first covered body just as an officer grabbed his arm.

“Sir? You’re going to have to back away.”

He pulled the cover from the body before the policeman could stop him. It was Bec. After that, everything went black.

~~~

Friday.

Thursday had come and gone. Riley could hardly remember what had even happened. The hospital. The police. Even the funeral home were involved, and of course the media. They hounded him to comment on the drunk driver who had stolen his family. He was too numb to fight, too burdened to blame anyone but himself.

He lay in bed unwilling to wake, unable to move. This was his fault. Had he not followed his passions and visited Marie there would be no covered bodies on the road. The police said it made no difference.

What did they know? It made all the difference.

No one knew his whereabouts at the time of the accident, not yet anyway, but they would. More importantly, he did.

He couldn’t shake the shame, or the visions of crumpled metal and crimson asphalt. They haunted him until dark. The nightmares that followed were no better.

~~~

Saturday

There was no escaping the guilt, but escape was all he wanted. The decision to jump was made rashly but it felt well reasoned, to him at least.

He drove to the mountains, not knowing exactly what he would do once there. Maybe drive off a cliff. Maybe jump. The closest cliff was near his favorite stream. Before he could change his mind, he found himself standing on the edge.

He couldn’t believe it had come to this, yet he knew now that that was his problem—he couldn’t believe. They were her very words in the message he had played and replayed. Her last words to him, and they were true.

He needed to end the nightmare but he also needed a reason to postpone the end. That’s why he visited the stream one last time. That’s where he saw the platypus. That’s when the revelation occurred.

It was as if the animal’s behavior was mimicking his own. He could barely watch, yet he could barely look away. He knew more about platypuses than most people knew there was to know. He had always used them to justify his beliefs, but never had he seen them as explaining his actions, never had he looked at them like this…

Insulating fur, webbed feet, rudder-like tail, the platypus was perfectly designed to live in the water. It was where the animal was created to be, yet it spent the majority of its time on land.

Riley, this home is where you were created to be. Sue’s words. Yet he spent the majority of his time in the office.

The platypus closed its eyes and dived. In the few hours they do spend in the water, platypuses completely close their eyes and their ears. They swim blind.

Open your eyes dad. Bec’s words. It was habit lately, to shut his eyes and ears to the needs around him, to his wife and daughter. Look where that led.

The water was so clear he could see the platypus shoveling rocks and sludge with its bill, hoping to find food. With its eyes and ears closed, all the animal could do was grovel in the dark. It was a furry submerged version of himself. He’d stubbornly rejected Bec’s God all his life, often over the claims of creationists. He thought he knew better. He thought he was the master of his fate. He thought a lot of things before Wednesday. In a silent sermon, this little animal spoke to him. For years he had used it to construct his defenses, and now this God of his daughter’s used it to tear them all down. He was looking at himself. His blind swimming through life, his ignorance of his purpose had led to the crash. There’s design in everything dad. Just open your eyes. Too late for that Bec. He walked back to the cliff.

Riley considered closing his eyes to jump, but he couldn’t do either. He couldn’t move his feet. He couldn’t close his eyes.

So don’t close them anymore Riley. Open them to Me. It wasn’t an audible voice, more a thought that Someone else had inside his head.

God?

Whatever was happening was beyond his understanding, and that was something Riley hated. But until he could understand it, he knew he couldn’t go through with this decision. He backed up just as the sun broke through the clouds.

The sun. The platypus.

Creation shouts His message. Bec’s poster now seemed to shout wisdom. How could he have been so blind?

~~~

The road home was long and difficult. Not nearly as much as the road ahead would be, Riley knew that, but he also knew there was more to discover down this road.

He no longer wanted to be the captain of his soul. He suspected that that was a position best filled by God. It was hard to know where to place God amongst all these thoughts swimming through his head, but Riley knew He deserved some place. He knew he could no longer afford to swim blind. He would look into God and decide for himself. He owed that much to Sue and Bec… and maybe to the platypus that their God seemed to send in his hour of need.

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