A young woman cheerleader comes up out of a creek and finds herself in a brand new rustic paradise called "the land." Her name is Red Sangria. Lo, here in the land, Red discovers her boyfriend from the world of before here. He tells her of her need for the Saviour in order to get saved from her sins. She believes him, and she prays and gets born again also, herself. Alas, a third person comes into the land--a woman in a black one-piece swimsuit named Tracy Zephyr. Flanders backslides, follows her and forsakes Red, and is slain by the femme fatale Tracy.




(By Mr. Morgan P. McCarthy)


She felt herself coming up out of waters and standing waist-deep in a flowing creek. She did not know of a time before. Now was as a beginning. She saw before her a bank of land. Curious, she climbed up out of the creek, and she beheld a wondrous and a wide world of the beauty of nature. What a new world this was; so strange and mysterious a paradise she found herself in. She saw plains of green, meadows of field grass, and sundry fields alive under the yellow sun. She called out to this countryside, “What is this world that I am in?” And she found her tongue saying, “The land.” This must be “the land” then. Curious about herself, she looked down into the creek. She was a young woman about twenty years of age. Her hair was red with gentle curls. She saw herself bringing her lips together in thought. Yes, she was happy at what she saw. She wondered if she were attractive to men. She hoped so. Her reflection showed her blowing a breath into her bangs. Then, straightening back up, she again looked out into this land, and she asked, “But who am I?” And her lips again answered her own question, “Red Sangria.” She said to herself, “This must be me then.” A gust of warm wind came upon her, blowing on her clothes, and she looked upon her attire. She found herself dressed in a red pleated skirt with white double-pleats, a long-sleeved red and white sweater with diagonal and crisscrossing stripes, red knee socks with white stripes, and red sneakers with white shoelaces. She put her hand to a red pleat of her skirt. This material she could not remember ever having on before. She then put her hand to a red cuff. She did not know about this, either. “I’m a cheerleader,” said Red Sangria. She liked this cheerleader uniform. It felt good on, and it was comfortable. She even felt a little daring, dressed like this. What if a guy came along and saw her like this? She romanced a fantasy in her heart of a cute guy coming up to her in the land, beholding her in awe, and saying, “I can’t believe you’re dressed in that! Whoa, girl!” She laughed merrily at herself and did a cheer. She then asked the land, “Was I a cheerleader before I came here?”

Just then, in the next field, arose a vast fluttering of wings. Looking up, Red Sangria saw a flock of Canadian Geese rising up from behind a single line of box elders and soaring high into the skies. And an other appeared, a walker, a man. He saw her; he waved; he called out, “Hello, there.” And he came toward her. She watched, her fingers crossed; and, sure enough, he was cute. His eyes were either gray or blue—she couldn’t tell. His hair was brown, straight, with bangs, and reaching to the bottom of his ears. He had a brown mustache that ran down the sides of his mouth. And he had a brown beard like a billy goat’s. His nose was large for his face. And his teeth stuck out in an overbite. Red definitely liked what she saw. He was dressed in blue jeans, a plaid shirt untucked, a brown leather vest unbuttoned, no socks, and penny loafers with pennies in them. And on his head was a Jiffy brand hat. For a man, he was short—about her height--and he was a thin man. His words to her now were, “Whoa! I can’t believe a girl can dress like that! I almost wish that that were mine.” And they both laughed. He then said, “I am Flanders Nickels.”

She said to him, “I am Red Sangria.” 

He said, “I never thought that I would meet anyone else here. I’ve been here for a month now. How long have you been here?”

“I just got here,” she said. “Flanders, was there a time before this land?”

“The world,” he answered her. “We came from the world. It will slowly come back to you the longer you’re here. I can only myself remember bits and pieces.”

“I kind of remember something,” she said.

“Red Sangria, you look familiar,” he said to her. She began to tug on a red curl, trying to make it straight. “Yes, I remember you, Red. You remind me of something before the land.”

“Somebody like me?” she asked. “Did you have a girlfriend back before here?”

“Somebody like you,” he answered her first question. “And you were my girlfriend, Miss Sangria.” She smiled a grin at him. Surely this was too good to be true. He spoke further, “Red Sangria, you were a classy girl.”

In a coy flirt, she looked up at him and said, “Flanders Nickels, am I still a classy girl?”

“With a female’s wiles, Red,” declared Flanders, “a girl truly meek...demure...chaste...kind...and pure. A nice girl. One man’s dream.” She could hear in his words a great and sincere admiration for her traits. Flanders Nickels was not like others she had met before. Maybe he was a born-again believer, a Christian man living for his God. She had to confess to herself that she did not know such a God as he seemed to.

She went on to ask him, “Flanders, was I a cheerleader where we came from?”

“I can’t remember,” he said, “yet I don’t think so.” He said to her, “But you look great, Red.”

“Thank you, Flanders,” she said, beaming. She then asked him, “What was it like for you, when you first came to the land?”

“Well, water was dripping down my head and into my eyes, and I saw a bank of a creek, which I was standing in.” They laughed.

“Same here,” she said.

“And when I looked around the land I saw a paradise,” he continued. “But I did not see Jesus—this land is not Heaven.”

“Tell me about Jesus,” she said.

“Jesus is the Messiah, the Saviour of the world,” he preached to her eager ears. He sat down in the field grass and beckoned her to join him in the meadow. She gladly sat down at his side, spreading out her cheerleader’s pleats skittishly about herself.

She laughed and said again to him, “I really don’t remember having on something like this before—dressed like a cheerleader and all, Flanders.”

He smiled fondly at her and began to preach beautiful words to her, “Red Sangria, ‘In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by him; and without him was not anything made that was made. In him was life; and the life was the light of men. And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.’ John 1:1-5.”

She thought for a while, then asked, “Is this ‘Word’ Jesus?”

“Yes, Red,” he said unto her. “He is Jesus the Lord.”

“The Creator of the world we just came from?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, nodding. Looking off into the skies, he recited to her again, “’He was in the world, and the world was made by him, and the world knew him not. He came unto his own, and his own received him not. But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name:’ John 1:10-12, Miss Sangria.”

“Is Jesus the Lord of this land, too, Flanders?” she asked. She was still trying to figure out her apparel.

“Yes, He is,” said Flanders. “Jesus Christ died for our sins, and He rose again the third day.

This is the good news of the saving Gospel of Christ Jesus.”

In discomfort in her lower regions, she stood up. Groping about herself, looking for something, her hands settled on the back, just above the rump. “I think that I finally figured out this cheerleader’s uniform, Flanders,” she said. “I’ll be right back.” She ran over to a large tree, hid behind it, and said,

“Don’t look right now. I had a lot of tea just before I got here. That much I remember.” As she did her business, she heard Flanders laughing. She confessed, “I remember: It was a large dark blue mug of Lipton peach tea, Flanders—two tea bags, a spoon of Realime juice, and four sugar cubes.” Then, properly covered again, she came up to Flanders, waiting for him to say something smart.

And he said to her, “Red, I could have told you where the zipper was in your cheerleader skirt if you had asked me.”

A silly memory from the world passed through her mind, and she put her hand to her mouth to try to hide her laughing. ‘I think that I know why that is, Flanders Nickels,” she said, knowing something.

“Why?” he asked. “What do you know that I don’t?”

Laughing through her nose, she said, “Flanders, you know how on Halloween, people go trick-or-treating?”

“Halloween is the Devil’s holiday. It is an evil day,” he said to her.

“You didn’t always say that, though,” she said to beguile him. She lifted the edge of a red pleat to her skirt. “Look familiar, O Flanders?” she teased him.

“I don’t get it,” he said to her.

She held out her arms from her body, her hands outward, the red cuffs of her cheerleader sweater covering her wrists. “Now hold out your arm next to mine.” He did so. Both arms were the same length. “Just as I thought,” she said. “And we are both about the same height, Flanders.”

“I am five feet eight inches,” he said.

“Yes,” she said in a tantalizing tone. She put her arms akimbo. “We are both nice and thin,” she said.

“Yes. We are,” he said. “You could probably fit right in my clothes if you were a man.”

“Put your foot next to mine,” she said.

He did so. “You have big feet for a girl,” he said. “They’re as long as mine are.”

“Did you notice how unfamiliar I was with my outfit?” she asked, giving away a knowing smirk.

“Yes, Red,” he said, “like it weren’t even yours.”

“Because this cheerleader’s uniform was yours, Flanders Nickels,” announced Red Sangria. “You had on what I have on now.”

“No,” he said.

“Yes,” she said. “For trick-or-treating.”

“Yes,” he said.

“And you really looked quite cute, Flanders,” she said.

“I was dressed as a cheerleader,” he confessed. “It’s all coming back to me now.”

“And I had on what you have on now and the exact same way,” she said. “That seems to me to be a long time back in the world, like a few years ago.”

“It was my first few weeks as a Christian then,” he said to her. “I remember now. I had a lot to learn yet in my new life with Christ. I had to learn that Halloween was wicked; and cross dressing, a sin. With God as my new Father, I got a spiritual spanking from Him, and He taught me the good and the right way.”

“How does God do that?” she asked. “How did He do that to you?”

“He took away from me the only thing more important to me than my cheerleader’s uniform—good prayer. I prayed daily, but felt nothing happening inside with my words, and all my prayers died.

Why, back then, I thought that I lost Jesus, and I despaired. This lasted nine days, until I repented. Then good prayer came back. After chastening me, He then showed me a Bible verse in my Bible-reading: ‘The woman shall not wear that which pertaineth unto a man, neither shall a man put on a woman’s garment: for all that do so are abomination unto the Lord thy God.’ Deuteronomy 22:5. After all this, I asked for His forgiveness, and He forgave me. I never slid back into drag since.”

“Amen,” said Red Sangria for her first time.

‘Besides, Miss Sangria, it looks a lot better on you,” he said.

“The land has dressed me just for you, Flanders,” she said. Then she asked, “May I hear another verse from the Bible that you memorized, Flanders? I want to hear nothing but verses.”

“John 3:7, Red,” he began, and his countenance turned serious. “’Marvel not that I said unto thee, Ye must be born again.’”

“Why do I have to be born again?’ she asked. “What happens if I don’t get born again?”

“Red,” he said, “’Jesus answered and said unto him, Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man

be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.’ John 3:3.”

“You mean Heaven?” she asked. He nodded. “How do I get born again?”

“’For whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.’ Romans 10:13,” he said, his voice fervent.

“Pray?” she asked. He nodded in zeal. “What do I say?”

“’And they said, Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved, and thy house.’ Acts 16:31, O Red,” he quoted. “I urge you. Jesus is waiting.”

“But what do I need to believe about Jesus?” she asked.

“It is written, ‘For I delivered unto you first of all that which I also received, how that Christ died for our sins according to the scriptures; And that he was buried, and that he rose again the third day according to the scriptures:’ I Corinthians 15:3-4.” His voice sounded as if he were praying to God.

“The Gospel of salvation,” Red Sangria said. “When’s a good time to get saved, Flanders?”

“Red Sangria, it is written, ‘(For he saith, I have heard thee in a time accepted, and in the day of

salvation have I succoured thee: behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation.)’ II Corinthians 6:2,” he sang out to her in affection.

But a doubt came upon her heart. And she told him this doubt: “I would like to be your girlfriend in the land, Flanders.” Sitting back down on the land, she brought her knees up, hugged her legs, looked up at him, and confessed to him, “But if I became your girlfriend, I would have to give up Halloween. We had great fun trick-or-treating. I don’t want to give that up, Flanders. I’d have to give up a lot of things. I’m not really ready for that right now.”

He looked sorrowfully at her, and he said, “Red Sangria, I have begged my God with tears to save your soul back when we were both in the world and dating. But God cannot bless a disobeying son. How lonely I must be in the land now, because I must obey my Lord. If only I had not been rebelling against Him back in the world.”

“Why, Flanders?” cried out Red Sangria. “Where are you going?”

“God’s Word,” he began, “Red Sangria, it says, ‘Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers.’” She understood what God had told him—according to the Lord, it was a sin for a saved man to date an unsaved woman. And indeed was Flanders’s God a stranger to her. Flanders took her hands in his and cherished them with lonesomeness. Then he said to her, “I cannot let myself fall for you in the land as I did in the world, Miss Sangria.” And he let go of her hands.

And Flanders Nickels left her. She watched as he departed. He did not stop. He did not turn back. He did not speak again. She knew that his heart was clinging to his Jesus with prayer. Her heart broke as she stood in the land alone. Yet Flanders, despite his same trial, had a personal Saviour to hold on to. He seemed to have a peace—both a peace with the Lord and a peace of the Lord. This Christian man who had come into her life in the land knew something she never knew, and he had something she never had. Yes, truly did he love his Saviour first of all. And, before too long, her boyfriend disappeared beyond the hill, and she could see him no more. Red Sangria was alone now in this land.

She felt the wind blowing upon her legs, and she looked and saw this wind playing upon the pleats of her cheerleader’s skirt. The weather was changing in the land. A whirlwind came up in front of her, and she brushed sand off of the front of her skirt and off of her sweater. The leaves of the trees shook with noise. A cloud appeared in the sky. She felt a drop of rain land on her head. The sun became overcome now with clouds and gray. And rain began to come down upon her here in the land. The wind blew a coolness through her body. A lightning bolt struck down upon the ground just a few fields away. And the clamor of thunder filled the skies. Then hail came down upon her, much hail pelting her head. Cool wind became cold wind. In fear, Red Sangria sat down in the grass, curled up, and covered her head with her arms. So frighteningly alone she was in the land. And Red Sangria began to weep. There in the midst of the storm, she prayed to God: “I’m sorry, Lord. I know Who You are, and I know what You did. I am a sinner. Please save me like You saved Flanders.” And the storm ceased. Red looked up. She wiped her eyes from sad tears. She suddenly felt clean now, cleansed in her soul, wondrously new in her spirit. Jesus had forgiven her all her sins. She was now born again. This was repentance, and it felt good. And God did it all. She sniffled and got back to her feet.

“Red!” her ears heard off in the distance. “Miss Sangria!” She looked up at the top of that hill.

Flanders was coming back for her! He said, “The land told me to come back. Are you all right?”

Red whispered in fervor to her new God, “Praise You! Praise You!” Then she called back to her boyfriend, “I’m all right. Yes, Flanders. Thank you. Thank you.” Running up the hill toward him, she said, “I’m saved! I’ve just been saved!”

“Amen!” exclaimed Flanders. “Praise Ye, the Lord!” When they reached each other, she threw herself sweetly into his arms, praising and giving thanks to the Lord. At a loss for words, Flanders said to her, “I’ve never hugged a cheerleader before.”

“That’s okay,” she said. “I’ve never been a cheerleader before.” Just then she perceived the call of the land. She took his hand in hers and said, “The land has just said something to me. Let’s go back to my bank of the creek.” Then she flirted, “And don’t gawk at my pleats,” and she knocked her hips against his, and they both laughed.

When they arrived, she looked upon the creek, her mouth agape. This was her origin in the land, but now it was churning up torrents. This once peaceful creek was now a rushing waters with a roaring in her ears. Above the sound of the rapids, she asked him, “Why is it doing this—the creek, Flanders?”

He yelled back above the noise of the waters, “I believe, Red, that the land, or the Lord, is saying to you that it is time you must leave. It is time for you to get to go back to the world.”

“What?” she asked, having heard what he said, but disbelieving.

Flanders said unto her, “All you have to do, Red, is to jump back in, and you are home again.”

She called out to him, “But what about you, Flanders?

He said unto her, “There is work for me to do here for yet a while. Your work is done now, O Red.” He bit down on his teeth. “It is time,” he said somberly.

She looked back at her expanse of creek. It was not so loud now. “It’s calming down now, Flanders,” she said.

“Now, Red!” he said in alarm. “Go back—you may never get another chance. Jump!”

“But I cannot, Flanders,” she cried out. The waters were now almost quiet again.

“Why not?” he cried out. “This is your last chance.”

“But I fell in love with you, Flanders Nickels,” declared Red Sangria. She looked down into the creek; all was again still, and this creek of the land flowed freely and smoothly again, as if nothing had been any different. Red was marooned here in this land for perhaps forever now. She closed her eyes, breathed in, breathed out, then opened her eyes again. As she looked down into this creek so much a part of this beautiful and magical land, she asked him, “Would you like a girlfriend at your side forever in the land?”

“I would be happy to become your boyfriend of the land, Red Sangria,” he said unto her.

Hand in hand, they left this creek behind, and they journeyed throughout the land, discovering many wondrous animals and all manner of living plants, and taking in the celestial magic of these skies. She and Flanders were going to be here forever and ever.

Soon they came upon a large sloping sand dunes. Flanders sat down in this sand and beckoned her to join him. Miss Sangria sat down, then quickly stood back up and brushed sand off of herself where Flanders could not see. She then sat back down, this time tucking her skirt underneath herself as she did so. In fun, her thoughts thanked her Lord for her more private apparel underneath. Then Flanders Nickels made a startling announcement to her: “Red, there is something wrong about the land. I have found that a thing of great beauty is missing here.”

Incredulous at his statement, Red looked around herself, and she saw not one thing that was not beautiful and that was not a part of God’s divine creation. “What’s wrong with the land?” she asked him. “What is not here?”

“The Holy Bible,” Flanders said to her. “I need the King James Bible.” He went on to say, “I have asked the land for one all day today, and the land has not answered me.”

Cocking her head to the side at him to beguile, Red Sangria asked him, “Ought not such a request be asked of God, Flanders? Did you pray to God for a Bible, O Flanders?”

He looked sheepishly at her. “Silly me,” he confessed. “You are right, Red.”

There in the sand dune, kneeling in prayer, they petitioned God for a K.J.V. Holy Bible. Then they looked up at each other. He said, “The Lord has answered our prayer. The land is calling me. Quick, follow me!” Side by side, they ran a great distance through numerous fields, and they arrived at an unfamiliar stretch of the creek. As they caught their breath, he raised his arm and pointed. “There, Red, over there. Amen. Amen!”

Across the waters, on the opposite shore, stood a podium with an open Book. “The Holy Bible!” exclaimed Red. “God is good!” Moved by the moment, he took her wrists in his hands and cherished her red cheerleader sweater cuffs. Red was not sure if this honored their Lord. Just then the creek stopped flowing, stood still for just a moment, then started flowing back from where it had come. In puzzlement, she said, “Flanders, the creek---it’s flowing upstream now. What’s that mean? Is one of us leaving?”

Letting go of her wrists, he turned to look, and he said, “No. I think it means that someone else is coming. We are getting a visitor into our land.” And they watched.

Then, up from the creek came a figure, slender, pretty, young, and attired in a black one-piece swimsuit. “Tracy?” Red heard her man say. “Tracy Zephyr!”

This young woman pouted her lips, and she said to Flanders, “What are you looking at?” Her eyes met Red’s looking to behind her, and Tracy turned back to see what Red was looking at. Miss Zephyr said, “A stupid stand here in wherever with a stupid Book on top.”

Red Sangria declared to this woman, “The King James Version Bible, an answer to prayer.”

“A stupid Bible from a stupid prayer,” said Tracy. She then climbed up onto that opposite bank, and she said, “Bon voyage, King James Bible,” and she kicked down the podium into the flowing creek. This precious and pure Word of God fell down into the creek and either sank or flowed away. Tracy Zephyr then shook her hips in flirt at Flanders, and she said, “I am a princess, aren’t I?”

“Flanders, do you know her?” asked Red.

Flanders made known to Red, “Tracy Zephyr was the most beautiful cheerleader I have ever known. To me, she was always ‘my Princess.’”

Miss Sangria looked again at this self-proclaimed princess. Tracy was smiling up at Flanders, but the smile was one with malice and evil guile. Red rebuked this temptress, “I don’t know you, but I don’t like you. Where did you just come from?”

“I was with a boy, and now I am in this desert,” said Tracy.

Red looked around and saw nothing but fruitful fields of living greenery. Flanders was not saying anything. “Flanders, say something,” petitioned Red. “Rebuke her with one of your Bible verses.”

Instead Flanders said, “She is quite pretty. Tracy, I saw you at all the football games.”

Tracy then leaped back down into the creek, waded across this creek toward them, climbed up onto their bank, and stood smugly before them. Tracy then spoke bluntly, “You are Red Sangria, the girlfriend to Flanders Nickels.” With a proud sigh, she said, “I was with a boy; a man would be better still.” She pointed to the opposite shore of the creek. She said, “Red, see that stand over there, all keeled over and all? Red, remember what happened to the Bible book, all sunk and all? That will be you. That will be you after I win Flanders to myself.”

Yet all that Flanders Nickels would say was, “A black one-piece swimsuit. You look good, Tracy. My princess. My Princess.”

Tracy Zephyr flirted with a wicked laugh, and she promised, “Follow me, Flanders, and I will show you things you never saw with Red.” And the black one-piece swimsuit temptress shook her hips before the young man.

And before Red Sangria’s eyes her boyfriend and her adversary walked away together, leaving her alone in the land. Red tried to call out, “Flanders. Flanders,” but her voice choked, and she could not speak. And now, just like that, Flanders was out of her life.

The last thing she heard him say was, “You’ve got pretty brown hair.” He had said those words to Tracy.

Red Sangria called out to the land the cry of her broken heart, “Flanders, be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers.” She then said quietly, “Remember?” And she whispered, “How could you forget?” Only her Lord heard her, however.

She sat down next to a maple tree and leaned her back and her head up against it. A happy memory from happy times from the world before came upon her heart, and she relived it and laughed through it:

“Red, what on earth happened to your head?” he had said.

“Oh, Flanders, it got caught in the rain,” she had said to him.

“It’s dripping off of every red curl you’ve got,” he had said.

“I’m a real mess. Shall I comb my hair straight?” she had said.

“Straight—yes--and brown, and be my ultimate woman,” he had said.

Miss Sangria sniffled as this bittersweet memory moved her heart. Looking down, she played with the folds of her skirt in her hand. The white of her double pleats was faded a little, and the red of

her outer pleats was frayed a little along the edges. Red tried to think upon God. She asked Him, “Why did Flanders backslide?” But she knew. Flanders had backslid, because he had willingly and knowingly and deliberately taken his eyes off of Jesus. Right now that girl was more important to him than was his God. But the Lord cared about Red. He loved Red with a perfect love. He could help. Knowing this, Red Sangria stood up, sighed, knelt down in the grass, closed her eyes, and prayed, “Thy good will be done, O precious Saviour.”

She opened her eyes, stood up, and looked around. An urgency—a warning---called out to her heart. It was from the land. And it was about Flanders Nickels. She must find him. Calling upon God, Red Sangria following this calling. She passed through fields, through fords of the winding creek, through little forests, through peaks, through valleys, through meadows, through rolling hills,through grasslands, along the edges of the lake, all this journey her lips clinging to words to her Lord.

Then Red Sangria came to an orchard. Here were apple trees. She heard large flowing waters off in the distance. Up in the skies a dark song called out to her, and she looked up and saw predator birds. An apple fell off a branch and dropped onto the ground. In this orchard the air had an unsettling smell of the end of summer. Looking down upon the edges of her skirt, she saw that all wind was dead here in this orchard. The mighty waters up ahead frightened her; they sounded like the waters of a river wide and broad. Taking in a breath, Red began to walk toward this river. Then she saw on the ground an organized pattern of apples; they formed words which read, “his Princess.” Red stopped and trembled. Then she continued on. Soon after that, she found another message spelled out on the ground for her; this one was formed of cores of apples, and it read, “I did it.” Red Sangria stopped again. She prayed. And she continued on. She began to run. And she came upon the river and its bank.

There he was, who was once Flanders Nickels. The man with whom she had fallen in love was face down, hanging over the bank, his head under the water, and an apple tree branch stuck into his back. She fell down upon her knees and cried out in bitterness of soul and spirit, “Flanders! Flanders!”

In great sin, she boldly called God a liar. And she buried her head in her hands and wept in overwhelming sorrow of grief. She now knew why God had brought her here to the land. She had come to bury the man who would lead her to salvation. “I am so sorry, O Flanders,” she cried out, sobbing.


It was the next day, and she stood upon the bank of the creek where she had first come into this land. The land had called her back here. It was time for her to leave. Red tried to remember what the world before of people was like, and she wondered. This land had been her life. Any time before was like a story forgotten. God had taken good care of her here in the land. For here was where she had 

found her personal Saviour. As for Flanders’s murder, she no longer blamed God. And the Lord had forgiven her her moment of murmuring. Red Sangria knew that someday the day would come when she would be with Flanders again—up in Heaven, alive, with Jesus, forever. She knew, because she had asked God to save her soul. Leaning forward, she looked at her reflection in the creek. Yes, she was pretty; Flanders had said so. She then looked at her red and white cheerleader uniform with which the Good Lord had covered her in the land. In a promise to Flanders, she said out loud, “When I come back to the world, I’m going to put this in a special place and never put it on again.” By this she would honor his memory. It would be “his” once again. She smiled now and felt glad. Then she began to wonder about Tracy. Very soon, wherever she now was, Miss Zephyr was going to have this whole land to herself. She would be utterly without another. How terribly alone his murderer was going to be here forever and ever. Red Sangria took one last look at this land, this paradise of all forms of green living things, and she took in the beauty that only a God of love could create, and she praised this most wise God. She heard a rippling of water. She looked down into the creek. It was changing.

Soon it began to surge in torrents. The time had come. Her work here was complete. She must leave the land. “Thank You, Jesus, for the land,” Red Sangria prayed. “Thank You for salvation.” Then she said, “Thank You for my Flanders Nickels.” And, having said this, Red Sangria jumped into the creek, leaving behind this land.



























Submitted: December 04, 2018

© Copyright 2022 flanders nickels. All rights reserved.

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