The Dove

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Religion and Spirituality  |  House: Booksie Classic
When you come across the blank in the story, put your name in it.

Submitted: April 17, 2010

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Submitted: April 17, 2010

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As I ventured through the world, I came across a busy city. And that is when I saw something of great importance. There was an elderly man that was walking down the street on a bright, sunny afternoon.  I saw, along with the man, was a beautiful white dove. I cooed and flew around the mans head and alighted on his shoulder. It was plain to see that the owner loved his bird very much, as the dove plainly showed too. As he walked, he saw a young boy walking toward him. Now, this boy wasn't like most nice little boys you see walking around. He had a look of mischief on his face, and a glint of evil could be seen in his eyes. As the boy drew nearer, the man saw that he was carrying a dirty, brown paper bag. The bag moved every now and then, as if something inside was trying to get out. When the boy was close enough, he didn't just walk by the man. He stopped right in front of him, looking at him with a face that expressed triumph. The man looked at the boy, then the paper bag. He then spoke. "What do you have there, boy?" The man’s voice was stern and seemed to command the air around him to listen. Obviously, the man was important. The boy did not shrink from the elder's gaze. He grinned, a crooked and nearly toothless smirk. The boy responded with a croaky, evil sounding voice. "It's a bird...sir." The boy seemed to struggle with getting the ‘sir’ out, but he said it with hatred. “It’s a disgusting, dirty, stupid bird.” The man frowned at the boy. After a moment of silence, the man spoke again. “What do you plan on doing with the bird?” The boy smirked. “I am first going to pull out his feathers. Then I am going to cut off its feet. His beak will be sawn off and his eyes plucked out by my two finger. Then, I will kill him. The man stood in silence. “There is nothing you can do to stop me!” the boy cried. His voice shook the air and I trembled in fear. The child’s voice lingered for a few seconds and then stopped. I looked to the old man. He had a look of sympathy on his face. He then spoke. “Let me see it.” The boy pulled the bird from the bag. It was truly ugly. The creature was plastered in mud, with gray feathers, and a cracked beak. It chirped weakly, as if to say ‘Help! Save me! Someone save me!’ Tears came to the old man’s eyes. “How much will you take for the bird?” The boy looked shocked for a moment, and then smiled his hateful and toothless smile. “I want your dove. Your perfect, white, dove. That is the price for this stinking piece of flesh.” The elderly man began to weep and then motioned for his dove to go to the boy. The dove, surprisingly, went willingly. He lighted on the boys shoulder and cooed. The man took the bird from the boy’s hands, but still cried. That’s when it happened. The boy grabbed the dove off his shoulder and began to do all the horrible things that he said he would do to the ugly bird. I cried in horror, but I could not hear myself over the boy’s evil laugh. Another sound drowned out that one, the sound of the man crying. The cry rose to a high scream, so unbearable that I had to cover my ears. Then it was over. I looked at the dove on the ground. It had been reduced to a bleeding, ripped, and bruised carcass. It’s eye sockets were bare, feet cut off and discarded. It lay in a position, spread like a cross. Two nails were pierced through both wings. I continued to weep, not knowing quite why. “It is finished.” I heard a voice say. I turned around and saw a man, middle-aged and smiling. He looked vaguely familiar, though I could not put a name to the face. He spoke again, and the whole sky seemed to bow to him when he did. “This is what it took to save you, _________. My father sent me, an innocent dove, to die for you. Though you were ugly and dirty, I loved you enough to save you from ‘the boy’.” I cried a when I realized who it was. “But, how could you? How could you die for something so detestable and still is probably that way.” The man smiled and shook his head. “You are no longer ugly, my son. Look.” He pointed to the east and I saw the ugly bird in the hands of an enormous, bright figure, terrible to look upon, but great, powerful, and loving. The mud covered bird looked up to the figures face and chirped. Instantly, the bird began to change. It wings became long, and white. The beak turned orange, and black spots appeared over its eyes. It was now a swan. I cried for joy at the transformation. As the change ended, a dove lighted on the bright figures shoulder. I looked back at my Lord. “Yes, you are mine. You are beautiful in my eyes.” 


© Copyright 2018 Jonathan Thiessen. All rights reserved.

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