Chocolate snow

Dedicated to my one and only. I love you. ♥
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You held my hand and pulled me close. The snow was falling one by one, covering the whole place with a blanket of white. You rested your head on my shoulder as we lay on our porch swing. We sat in silence for a few minutes.

This was our first Christmas together as us, not just you and me. The wind blew gently enough to rock the swing and keep the snow away from us. On the table to our right sat two mugs of hot chocolate with the tiny marshmallows, just the way you like it.

Despite the cold surroundings you kept me warm to the touch, being covered in blankets and all. I hugged you tight and kissed your forehead. You looked at me, a bit surprised by my actions, but you didn't say anything. You just smiled.

When I thought it couldn't get warmer, it just did. That smile of yours sent a warm shock from my brain down my spine and spreaded through my whole body, then I smiled back. I leaned forward and gave you a small kiss on the cheek. You positioned yourself to sitting down. I stood up to get our mugs to have a drink and keep us a bit warmer.

I looked carefully at the white beyond our porch and the moon overhead. It was a beautiful scenery, but its beauty is nothing compared to yours. One by one the snow fell in an endless bliss. I took our mugs, walked back to the porch swing, and gave you your mug.

You took a few sips and made your way to lying down with your head on my shoulders again. I took your hot choco and placed it on the table to the left, much closer. The wind blew a bit harder and you squirmed just a little bit closer for warmth.

You looked at me. Your silver-like eyes were shining under the moonlight, almost blending in with the snow. I held up my hand to your cheek and gave you a little kiss on the forehead again. You pushed my hand away and went straight for my lips.

What little body heat you have left was transferred all to me. Your lips were freezing cold, chapped by the winds, but that was probably the warmest, softest kiss you ever gave me. I could feel a bit of soft snow and taste a bit of chocoloate on your lips.

You pulled back and it was like the warmth in me was sucked out. You nestled your head back to my shoulder and I wrapped the blanket around you. I looked at your petite face, blue from the snow and moonlight's reflection, so fragile under my touch. A smile cracked on your lips, you leaned up to my ear and whispered,

"I love you."

Wake up

'Wake up.' the voice whispered. 'It is time to wake up, my child.' The voice spoke in a hushed tone, like a father to his child. It was the most relaxing thing on earth. Hearing each word would lull you to sleep, but it had authority. It spoke with power and might. Like once he spoke, it's final. No questions asked. All that with saying wake up. "Who are you?" I asked. The man gave a bellowed laugh, more like a smirk. 'I am your friend, your brother, your father.' He didn't exactly speak, so to say. More like he was speaking telepathically. I can read his mind or something.

But, first thing's first, I don't even know where I am. I remember sleeping, and now I'm in the middle of nowhere. I looked down at myself and I was wearing white. Plain white shirt, plain white pants, and I'm barefooted. What I'm standing on? I don't really know. It felt like cold snow, soft grass, warm soil, rocks, clouds, water, and a whole bunch of other things. I looked around and saw the same thing when I looked down: white.

I'm in some sort of room, yet it seemed to go on endlessly. There was a door a few feet ahead. It was on a wall, yet it wasn't. The man was beside me. No, he was in front. Maybe behind me? He's above me. No. He's everywhere, and yet, he's not here. But I can see him, I think, looking at me like he was my boss or my brother.

I tried asking again, "Who are you? Where am I? Why am I here?" The man sighed, smiled at me, then took a step closer, 'I am your father. You are with me. I have called out to you.' Called out to me? What for? I wanted to ask him. 'Because I need you, my child.'

I stared at him again. He looked like my dad. Yet he didn't. He looked like a teacher, a pastor, or maybe a bodyguard. He looked like a knight, a king, a president. He looked like a very important person. He looked like an ordinary man. Yet he didn't. He looked like, he looked like, "God." I whispered under my breath. 'Yes, my child, it is me, your father.' I stood stiffer, straighter, at the thought of what this could mean. "Am I... dead?"

God laughed again, but it didn't sound cruel like he was teasing me. More like surprised or amused. 'No, my child, you are alive and well. Let me show you.' As he said that, we were suddenly somehow transported to my room. "Is that me?" I looked at him and all he did was nod. 'See, you are safe. Now, I need to talk to you, my child. You have been drifting from me. Why is that?' A feeling of guilt stirred inside me, more like a sudden hit than a gradual build. "I... I don't know."

'You have fallen into temptation. I do not want to lose my child as it is.' I hesitated, "I don't want to leave you, father." He smiled, like out of pity. No, not pity, mercy, 'I know you don't, yet you are.' "What should I do? I want to go back to you. But I..." 'There is no need to feel unworthy of me, my child. I love you unconditionally. I love you eternally.' "Which is-" 'Not a reason to feel unworthy.' "I understand." I said in grief. God is with me. I should be happy.

I am happy, it's just that I'm guilty, too. I took a deep breath and loosened up before our Lord. 'Feeling better, my child?' I nodded, 'Do you love me?' Another pang of guilt hit me. 'Why are you hesitating, my child?' "I feel guilty, too guilty, to answer the question. I mean, even if I say I do, I know I don't show it."

'You are young, both physically and spiritually. There are many things you have yet to know. Worldly things will come to you as I have planned. Your spirit, your love for me is a bit different. You have to nurture it. How long has it been since you last read your Bible, my child?' I didn't answer, but apparantly we were back it the white room. 'I see. How long has it been since you have prayed? Do you spread my word to those who need to hear it?'

"How do you expect me to do that? I'm a kid." 'Do not condemn yourself because you are young. You will do great things in your youth, as had my son, Emmanuel, whom you call Jesus. He has done great miracles, as would you.' He walked up to a table that wasn't there before. I followed. On the table was a painting, a painting of a field with sheep and a herdsman. 'You may have heard this before, but you are the sheep. The lamb that needs guidance. I am the herdsman, who guide you.' "Jesus is like the sheepdog, guiding us to you." I said, without thinking no less. God gave a small chuckle of amusement, 'Yes, you could say that. As for the wolf, that is Lucifer. He decieves, destroys, and kills. He does not build anything except worries. Those worries I turn into trials. You could learn a thing or two from him, but never anything good. He is the enemy.'

"The forever hungry wolf." 'Indeed. The wolf attacks the sheep. Those strong enough will escape his grasp. Those still weak or young, they are the ones who fall. As he is about to eat the young sheep, the dog, as you put it, will come and scare the wolf away. He will lead you to me once more, and I shall heal.'

As I was staring at the table painting, it shifted from a lush green to bloodshot red. Blood was everywhere, well, at least around the pole. I looked at the painting close, then I realized what it was. "Your son's crucifixion." 'Yes. Mankind has crucified him for their pleasure, but he has died for you, for your sins. My son has died for everybody on this planet, from everyone his time to future generations! As long as you believe. He has risen for all my sons and daughters, sadly some still think that my son is still on the cross.'

The painting changed again. It became silver white with dashes of gold and blue. At the center of the table was a man flying towards heaven. 'As you know, three days after his crucifixion, my son has risen from the dead. He defeated Lucifer, gave all of you a clean slate. I am very proud of him,' He looked at me and smiled that fatherly smile, 'and I am proud of you.' "Why should you be proud of me? I've done nothing but disobey." 'That is all written, my child, I know that it would happen. I also know full well that this would happen.'

'I am proud of you, remember that. Do your best, my child. I want you with me when I do the curtain call up in heaven one day. Emanuel was born for you. He was crucified for you. He has risen for you. His part is done. Now your part is to be done, and only by your hands. There are people that will not know me if you do not tell them. Do you want that?' I shook my head slowly, still staring at the painting, 'I believe you don't. But! To spread my word you must know my word. Therefore, what must you read?' "The Bible." I whispered. 'And you must pray, talk to me my child. I always have time for you. Spread the word, my word. Tell the world of my love for them. I trust you on this one.' "Yes, of course, father. Thank you." God gave another chuckle, 'Anything for my children. Now, run along. Go back to bed, you have a wonderful day ahead of you today.'

"Go to bed? But-" I woke up with a start. I sat right up breathing heavily, then I cooled down. I looked at my clothes and I was back to my baby blue shirt and my shorts. I stood up and went to the window behind my study table. Looking down on the table, I saw a Bible and a note under the morning sun's light.

Good morning, my child. Make me proud.

Signed,

your Father.

So, yes, I'm flying

Right beside me was a plane and down below is the Earth fifty thousand feet from my chest. I soared past the plane and right through a white, fluffy cotton. I soared up even higher that all I could see was cloud and sky. I looked over my shoulder. Nothing. Just my clothes. So, yes, I'm flying.

I dove downwards and flew through a greenery, a paradise. Field and trees as far as the eye can see. On coming mountain, I thought. I tried gaining more speed. "Faster," I whispered. As I sped up, I went higher. I scaled up the mountain. Almost there. I sped up a little more and, I don't know if I'm showing off to no one or instinct just came over me, but as I raced over the mountain I was spinning like a kid on the ground twirling around screaming 'Helicopteeerrr!'. But either way, I'm above the giant obstacle. I hovered right above it, just a tiptoe's length away. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and counted down from five.

Five, I can smell the ocean.

Four, I can hear the waves crashing.

Three, I can feel the wind beneath me.

Two, I opened my eyes.

"One." All I saw was blue.

Under my breath I zipped through the soft wind. Spinning, tumbling, going high, flying low, I just sped up. Wind through my hair, water splashing onto my face. The sun shining brightly on everything. It was the time of my life! Well, up until I realized I can't control the speed anymore. I was going faster and faster, faster than a motorcycle, faster than a race car. Faster than the fastest thing on earth that my skin might just be pealing off. "How do I stop!" I screamed to no one. Of course, it was only the me and ocean. Then I tripped. How can someone trip on air? was my last thought. I tumbled to the ocean. Water crashed onto my face like I was hitting cement at five hundred miles a second.

I sat straight up, dripping wet. I can barely breathe. I remember now. I'm travelling with --- "Wake up, sleeping beauty." I looked over my right shoulder and saw my best friend. I was dreaming. I smiled at her, relieved I wasn't dead. "What are you smiling for?"

I shook off the excess water from my head, flipped my hair back and stood up. "Good morning to you, too." "Go dry up and change clothes," she said, handing me a pink, cotton towel, "We're going on an adventure."