Sunday Psalms: Fictional Narratives Inspired by the Psalms, Proverbs, & Other Biblical Works
I’d taken every measure to ensure I was untraceable. I left my phone, my credit cards, my house key. Anything connecting me to my past life was completely forsaken.
I’d been planning this day for months, and as night set in, a surge of exhilaration raced through me. I had intentionally waited until dark before making the drive to a poorly lit area on the south end of town. The neighborhood was home to low-end strip clubs and ramshackle bars. Too much heinous activity for the cops to keep up. The perfect place to ditch my car.
I selected a narrow alley behind an abandoned warehouse and parked in the shadows of an old dumpster. As I slammed the door, a momentary hint of sadness crept up. There were a lot of memories behind that steering wheel. I really would miss my car.
I walked the mile to the bus stop that would carry me over the state line. Somewhere in the distance, a siren blared. A police car, I think, and I instinctively ducked my head as I walked. I hadn’t noticed any surveillance cameras in the area, but you never could be too sure.
The black hood of my jacket was perfect for blending in with the slew of anonymous faces the driver would see that night. I selected a seat near the back and popped in my headphones, pretending to be asleep. The last thing I needed was some friendly stranger recognizing me when my face showed up tomorrow on the evening news.
It was late when we finally crossed the border. Close to two in the morning when I disembarked and continued the rest of my journey on foot. I was grateful for the new shoes I had purchased. I would be walking for a while.
During the planning stages of my escape, I came to see that there are different types of running. One kind of running is based purely on emotions — a reaction to prove a point. Kids do it, spouses do it, everyone probably does it in some way or another. At the end of the day, you really want someone to care enough to come find you. You long to be appreciated, to be missed. You want to know that without you, life is incomplete.
But then there’s another type of running. This kind of running is calculated. Deliberate. A prisoner escaping incarceration. A caged eagle spreading its wings into free air. Disappearing isn’t something you just do. It takes careful planning. Patience. Reverence.
My running was the latter kind. I did not want to be sought out, did not want to be found. I wanted to vanish.
As the night grew colder, I pulled my jacket tighter. Leaves crunched beneath my feet, and I breathed in the smell of the road. A bit of pride filled my lungs as I considered what I had done. I had successfully escaped. I was gone without a trace. By this time tomorrow, my picture would be all over social media. My family and friends would never suspect that I was behind it. They would never guess that I was my own kidnapper. And yet, in spite of all my strategic planning, there was still something nagging at me.
“I see you.”Like a whisper on the back of my neck.
I had tried to deny it, to pretend I was just imagining things, but I could not shake the strange sense that I was being watched. Alone, in the middle of nowhere, not a person in sight, and still I was not alone. Nipping at my heels, tugging at my heart. Regardless of how hard I tried to flee, a presence continually follows me. Hiding is futile. Try as I may, I cannot escape. It is with me always. I am seen. I am known. I am found.
O Lord, You have searched me and known me. You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
You understand my thought from afar. You scrutinize my path and my lying down,
And are intimately acquainted with all my ways…
Where can I go from Your Spirit? Or where can I flee from Your presence? Psalm 139:1-3, & 7 (NASB)
-Read Previous Sunday Psalms: Season One Episodes
Written by Heidi Sadler, Inspired by Psalm 139. Copyright © 2015, 2016 by Heidi Sadler, All Rights Reserved. “Scripture taken from the NEW AMERICAN STANDARD BIBLE®, Copyright © 1960,1962,1963,1968,1971,1972,1973,1975,1977,1995 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission.”
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