The Calm

The clock’s second hand ticked repeatedly, giving off the loudest sound, as she sat in the huge empty lecture room, with her eyes fixed on school’s work. It was late evening, and she preferred the breeze the evening carried, instead of the fan’s rotation, hence, the next loudest thing to the clock was the scribbling of her pen, each time she made a note. The serenity of her environment pushed her to constantly move from the first page to the twentieth, with no break, whatsoever.

While beating the clock’s sound with the scribbling of her pen, she made a screechy scribble of fear, as a loud gunshot filled the faculty. She couldn’t move from her seat. She sat there still, and frightened, as she heard the voices of what sounded like armed men. Still glued to her seat, unable to move, she said under her breath, “Lord, fill me with the peace you had, during the storm. I want to sleep through this storm too.” Immediately she ended the prayer with an ‘Amen’ and opened her eyes, one of the armed young men stood before her. She looked straight into his eyes hummed a tune, which caused the young man to glare at her. Still keeping her cool, she smiled at him, and asked a question that got him boiling with anger.
“What is your story?” She asked with a smile.

“Will you shut up!” He shouted at her, and pointed the gun at her.

“Well,” she said, ignoring his rage, and maintaining her calm. “I was once homeless, and with the way everyone looked down on me, I wanted to have the power to ignite fear in them–I thought of joining a gang, selling my soul to the devil, and making everyone pay, but the one thing that stopped me was the realization that I might possibly harm those who were like me, or even, were once like me.” She told her story. “I had to quench the desire to ignite fear in others, or exercise unhealthy power over them. Then, one night, I was seated at the edge of the road, hungry and tired, and as though bread fell from heaven, a woman gave me some biscuits and asked that I follow her home. While walking with her, she smiled, as she sang,
“Because He lives, I can face tomorrow
Because He lives, all fear is gone
Because I know He holds the future
And life is worth the living
Just because He lives.“
That evening, after my first lovely meal, I had to understand the song and hold it dear to my heart.” She told him. Just then, the young man fell on his knees, and the words came out, as he meant each of them, “I’m deeply sorry.”

Another armed young man walked into the room, and screamed at his colleague, “Man, let’s get this done with and get going! The cops will be here soon!”

“No, man. Let’s stop all this. Let’s go home–at least, we’ve got one.”

“You’re going behind the plan, man! This is not what we planned!” He screamed in frustration and mistakenly fired a shot right into the other’s chest.
“Oh, no! No! No! See what you’ve caused, man! He rushed to him, and pressed his hand against the wound to prevent it from bleeding out, and the lady rushed to witness the changed man bleed out, and his colleague cry.

In his pain, the wounded man sang, not with much melody, but the sound of peaceful death, as he smiled through blood escaping from his mouth.
“Because He lives, I can face tomorrow
Because He lives, all fear is gone
Because I know He holds the future
And life is worth the living
Just because He lives.“

The lady smiled, as tears trickled down her cheeks, then, he expired, as his colleague wept.