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@freed_and_redeemed @savannah_grace2009 @jonas @grcr @ellette-giselle @linus-smallprint @loopylin @whalekeeper @theshadow @highscribeofaetherium @anyoneelseiforgot
Ok, so for anyone who read the first chapter. Jonathan’s brother has been taken away to Academy (as was shown) and this is a day or so later. not much happened in that time that would effect this scene too much.
Jonathan couldn’t stop thinking about 314. I wonder what he’s doing right now. Does he like the army? I hope they aren’t mean to him like they were in the Academy. I wish I could see him again…
When the long day was finally over, Jonathan trudged wearily home, kicking a rock along the pavement in front of him. He wasn’t looking where he was going, which accounted for the fact that he ran right into an Agent who was stepping out of a building. The young man cursed and grabbed Jonathan. “Hey! What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be in uniform!” he cried. “You have no idea what’s about to happen to you. At least it’ll teach the rest of them a lesson.”
Jonathan stood parallelized as the Agent yanked a set of handcuffs from his belt.
“That’s not him.”
Jonathan and the Agent both looked up as a second Agent stepped out of the building.
“215, let him go.”
The Agent dropped Jonathan’s arm, and Jonathan began backing away.
“Hold on a minute boy,” said the second Agent. “Where’s your ID?”
Jonathan slipped off his backpack and opened it with shaking hands. He yanked out his ID card and dropped it. Nearly tripping, he scrambled to pick it up and hand it to the Agent. The young man took it and glanced over it. “I thought as much,” he said. Then he handed it back. “Run along home, and watch where you’re going next time.”
Jonathan nodded and picked up his backpack. Clutching the ID to his chest, he ran down the street. When he reached the end of the block, Jonathan glanced back and found both Agents were watching him.
Jonathan raced on, fear choking him and spurring his legs forward. He didn’t stop running until he reached the house. Collapsing against the wall in the entryway, Jonathan sobbed for breath. He glanced at the door, but no Agents entered. Gathering himself together, Jonathan snuck upstairs and sat down on his bed. It took several minutes for his hands to stop shaking. As soon as they did, Jonathan opened his backpack and buried his mind in homework.
***
The next morning, Jonathan was exhausted. He hadn’t slept well that night, and he was still nervous after what happened with the Agents. He sat at the table and push his breakfast about. For the first time that he could remember, he wasn’t hungry.
“Jonathan, what’s up?” asked his mother.
Jonathan shrugged.
“Did something happen yesterday?” asked Sara.
“Well, when I was–––”
“Honey I’m running late,” Don called as he rushed into the kitchen. “Jonathan, look at the time buddy, you’ve gotta go.”
Jonathan nodded and slipped off his chair. He grabbed his backpack and walked to the door.
That day was no better then the last, and the whole time Jonathan thought about Agents, soldiers, and his brother. What if… what if 314 became an Agent? That would be awful! He won’t. He’s not mean enough. Oh I wish he hadn’t gone away!
When school day was over, Jonathan trudged home. When he opened the front door, he was greeted by the smell of dinner. He wondered into the kitchen and found his mother hard at work. She shot him a quick smile and then returned to what she was doing.
Jonathan got a glass of water and sat down at the table. He was just pulling out his homework when their was a pounding knock on the door.
Sara jumped, and Jonathan glanced up. The knock came again, and Sara went to answer the door. Jonathan heard voices, and he stood up. Tiptoeing to the hall, he snuck toward the door. In a moment the voices were clearer. “…Accident. In the crash your son, 314, was killed.”
Jonathan felt like his breath had been knocked out of him. He leaned against the wall, his head spinning. For a moment he could only hear the sound of his mother’s voice, but no words. Then, like coming up from under water, Jonathan heard the man speaking again. “As you well know, it is the duty of every family to give one child to the government. That place is still open.”
“But we gave you 314,” said Sara.
“314 never reported to base. He was killed before then. That means that on record you have never actually given a child.”
“That’s ridiculous. Put it on the record,” retorted Sara.
“Mam, I will overlook those words,” replied the Agent, sternly.
There was a moment’s silence, and then Sara murmured, “Thank you sir.”
“Now, as for the lack of a child, we are aware of the fact that you have another son, Jonathan.”
“He’s only ten. He’s never been to Academy and he lacks training. If you start him now he would be an adult before his training,” Sara hastily replied.
“Very observant of you,” said the man, coolly. “Of course Jonathan would never become a soldier. He is not one of the elite. However, there are plenty of other useful things he can be used for.”
“But–––”
“I came here to inform you that a car will be picking up your son this evening. That is all.”
The door closed, and for a long time there was silence. Sara walked slowly past, but she didn’t even see Jonathan, who was still crouched in the hall.
Jonathan watched her, his heart racing. Quietly, he crept up to his bedroom and closed the door. He sat down on the floor and leaned against the wall. I’m going to be taken away, just like 314. They’re taking me because… because 314 is dead.
Jonathan stared at the far wall. Dead. What is it like to die? What happens? Many emotions swirled about his confused ten-year-old self, but the first and foremost was fear. Nothing would ever make him forget that look in his brother’s eyes when he had been taken away. And now he was dead. Is it scary to die? Does it hurt a lot? What happens afterwards? Will I die to? Jonathan shuddered at the thought. His brother’s words whispered in his mind. “Jonathan, no matter what happens, I promise I’ll never forget you. Someday, I’ll find you again. I don’t know… but I will. Jonathan, do you remember the V? Victory means the overcoming of an enemy and achieving the objective in a struggle against all odds and difficulties. I will find you.”
“You didn’t find me,” whispered Jonathan. “You didn’t come back because you got killed! Now I’ll never see you again!” He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together tightly, but tears streaked his face. There’s no such thing as Victory anymore. Only death.
***
Jonathan slowly lifted head and blinked his eyes. They were hot and dry from crying. Slowly he stood, wondering how long he had been up here. He hurried downstairs and found his mother and father sitting at the table. Don had a strange expression on his face, and Sara had been crying. They both started slightly, and Don covered something with his arm. He smiled tightly at Jonathan. Sara motioned to the table, and Jonathan sat down. At a nod from her, he began to eat.
Don was drumming his fingers lightly on the table, watching his wife. Sara bit her lip and glanced toward the clock. Don stood up, and the two walked into the hall. Jonathan strained his ears to hear what they were saying.
“… only chance.”
“But Don, we don’t even know if they exist.”
“Have you got a better option? I was wrong the first time. I should have never let them take him, and now he’s dead. There is no way that I’m going to repeat that mistake. Ever.”
“I know you’re right. I just wish we even knew. And supposing they are still real, why would they ever help us.”
“I don’t know, but it’s the only option.”
The two moved down the hall and Jonathan lost their voices. He stared at the table, suddenly not very hungry. Whatever was going on wasn’t good, and he had a feeling it had to do with him.
The sound of a car driving down the road startled Jonathan. He looked toward the blinds that covered the window. Don came rushing in and tipped up one of the slats of the blinds. He whispered something that sounded like a curse word and spun. “Sara, come quick!” He turned and grabbed a butter-knife from the table and seized Jonathan’s arm. “Quick, come here.” Pulling Jonathan into the living room, Don crouched down and pushed the knife between the wooden floorboards. There was a groaning squeak, and one of the boards began to wiggle. Sara ran in and dropped down to help him.
The car pulled up the driveway and there was the sound of a door opening.
One of the boards came loose.
A car door slammed and another opened.
Jonathan bit his lip, watching his parents frantically working.
Steps sounded on the porch.
The second board came lose.
Someone pounded a fist against the door.
Don jumped up and grabbed a rug, he threw it to Sara. Squeezing Jonathan’s shoulder, he flashed him a quick smile. Then, he hurried from the room.
Sara grabbed hold of Jonathan and pulled him to her. She kissed his cheek. “Be brave. Stay away from everyone. Don’t let them find you.” she kissed him again, then she pushed him into a sitting position and practically shoved him into the crawlspace under the floor.
“Mama!” gasped Jonathan.
“Shh, don’t make a sound,” she whispered.
Jonathan lay still as Sara pounded the boards back down and threw the rug over top. He closed his eyes and lay in the dusty space, trying not to make a sound.
A door crashed opened and there was the sound of heavy boots. Jonathan froze, listening as men’s voices filled the room above.
Sara had been hurrying toward the kitchen, but she spun about with a gasp.
“Where is he? What have you done with him?” demanded an agent.
“Done with who?” asked Sara.
“The boy. Where is the boy?”
Sara shook her head. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since dinner.”
Another Agent stepped into the room, his gun pressed between Don’s shoulder blades. Sara looked at him in terror.
“They’re hiding him,” said the second Agent. “I’m sure of it.”
“No, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” cried Sara. The Agent grabbed her arm and twisted it roughly behind her back. Sara gasped in pain. “You better start talking quickly,” he snarled.
“It was me. I did it,” said Don.
The Agent let Sara go and turned. Walking slowly forward, he came to a stop toe-to-toe with Don. “What did you do with him?”
“I didn’t want you to have him,” spat Don. “If you were going to get him, then I thought it better no one did.”
“Where. Is. He.” asked Agent.
“Dead,” replied Don. “I did him in myself so you wouldn’t get another death weapon.”
The room fell deathly silent. Finally, the Agent spoke. “That was a mistake”
Don glared at him.
“Fanatic rebel I suppose. Even I’m a little surprised,” mused the Agent. He bent his head in thought for a moment. Then, he nodded.
The Agent holding the gun pulled the trigger.
***
Down under the floor, Jonathan could hear everything. He only had a vague idea what all of this was about, but he knew he must remain absolutely silent. He listened, straining his ears. All he could hear was his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Then, a gunshot shattered the silence.
Jonathan heard his mother start screaming. There was a crash, one of the men yelled something, and then three more shots.
Jonathan pressed clenched hands against his mouth, squeezing his eyes tightly closed. He shook violently as tears spilled down his face and his breath started to race. The sound of boots passed overheard, followed by more slamming doors, voices, and furniture being toppled over. Jonathan curled up and lay still, closing his eyes tightly. He never knew how long he lay there, but suddenly Jonathan realized that everything was silent, and it had been for a long time. Slowly, he lifted his head. His eyes burned from crying and his head spun. He carefully sat up and listened. There was no sound.
Jonathan put his hand to the floorboards, and then stopped. What if the Agents were still up there?
Jonathan slowly lay back down and pillowed his head on his arms. He closed his eyes and slipped into the dark silence of sleep.
When he woke again, Jonathan’s throat was dry and he could hardly swallow. He tried to lick his dry lips, but it did no good. He needed water. After laying for twenty minutes, Jonathan sat up. He couldn’t stand it. He had to get water and fresh air. He pushed on the floorboards and they slowly squeaked up. After a few moments of hard pushing, Jonathan got the boards up. He stood, pushing the rug up with his head, and dragged himself out. Freeing himself from the rug, Jonathan slowly got to his feet.
The house was still dark, and everything was deathly still. Jonathan blinked a little, trying to let his eyes adjust from the pitch blackness of the crawlspace to the thin trickle of a street light coming through the blinds. At last, he was able to make out the room. Jonathan turned and froze.
Lying in the doorway, her arms flung out to the side, was Sara. Closer to Jonathan, Don lay face down, his head turned slightly to the side, a wide dark patch staining the back of his T-shirt and the floor beneath him.
With a cold clarity, Jonathan knew they were dead, yet the knowledge had no effect on him. He just stood and stared, feeling as though the whoever he was had been separated from the boy he used to be. He didn’t even feel like he belonged to this world, and he vaguely wondered if he was dead or dreaming.
After several long minutes of standing there, Jonathan slowly turned and walked away. He came into the kitchen and turned on the sink. He picked up a glass, and found that it felt strange in his hands. Filling it with water, he drank and then refilled it. After three glasses, Jonathan stood still, trying to force his mind to think, to make sense of this strange dream world he had entered. After about five minutes, Jonathan realized the sink was still running. He reached out and turned it off. Then he carefully set his cup down on the table.
At that moment, Jonathan heard a sound. He froze, holding his breath. There it was again. A scraping sound that sent tingles up his spine. Then the creak of a floorboard. Jonathan’s heart was racing so hard it made him dizzy. He pressed his back against the counter, eyes wide in the darkness.
There was another creak, and it seemed to come from a different part of the house. Then, the sound of soft steps coming closer. There was a whisper followed by a breathed curse. Then the steps drew nearer. Jonathan stopped breathing altogether, listening to the sound and wondering what was going to happen, and if it hurt to get killed.
A shadow filled the doorway, and he heard a sharp intake of breath. The next moment, a dim flashlight beam caught him full in the face. Jonathan squinted, cowering against the counter.
The man who held the light didn’t move for a long time. At last, he spoke in a low voice. “Dan, get over here.”
Soft steps squeaked across the floor, and another man stepped into the doorway. “Well I’ll be,” he muttered.
“Now what’a we gonna do?” asked the first man.
“Leave him, I guess.”
“Good grief, we can’t just leave the kid in here with those folks dead in the other room,” argued the first man. He lowered his flashlight out of Jonathan’s eyes, and the boy looked up at the two warily. The one with the light was in his early twenties, but the other looked to be on the high end of thirties.
“Look, Jim, we can’t take him with us, and you’re saying we can’t leave him. We have to get moving. This was supposed to be a hit and run. There’s no knowing when the agents might be back.”
Jim stepped into the kitchen and came to Jonathan, he placed a hand on the boy’s head. Jonathan flinched at the touch and cowered down lower. A whimper escaped him, and he screwed his eyes tightly shut.
“Aw come on Dan, look at the little guy, he’s scared out of his wits. Let’s take him with us,” said Jim.
“Fine, but when the boss makes you brake his neck it’s all on you. I wash my hands of this,” snarled Dan. “Now I’m going to get something worth bringing back.”
Steps left the room, and Jim’s hand moved to Jonathan’s shoulder. “He buddy, it’s okay,” he said, forcing a soft tone into his rough voice. “I’m gonna get you out of here. This is all just a bad dream, okay.”
Jonathan felt arms around him and the young man lifted him up. At first Jonathan kept himself stiff, pulling away from the stranger. But, after a few moments, Jim’s even breaths began to reach Jonathan and calm him. As long as he kept his eyes closed, he could imagine that it was his father holding him.
“This is all just a bad dream, okay.”
Just a bad dream…
Man is born for the fight, to be forged and molded into a sharper, finer, stronger image of God
@ellette-giselle @rae @esther-c @grcr @keilah-h @anyone-I-missed Thank you all for your kind words💖 And I’m happy to hear about everyone’s writing progress! <3 And even if your writing progress is slow, don’t worry, everything will come together in God’s perfect timing💖 And everyone will know when Freedom’s Fire is released, don’t worry :3 @whalekeeper @mineralizedwritings @koshka @savannah_grace2009
I recently realized I never shared these scenes👀
But first, I have a question. Would anyone ever be interested in a short story (more likely novella😅) about how Riker and his wife Iris met? It would be a romance novella but would also dive more into Riker’s childhood. idk if that’s something anyone would ever be interested in, but it’s something I’ve considered for a while now….🤔
anywho, here are a couple scenes that would possibly be in it if it ever became a thing👇
March 1933
Sunlight beamed outside where flowers would soon bloom. Though many struggled in the years following the Great War, Iris Abler’s family had blessedly survived. With careful planning, an unbreakable family bond, and their trust in the merciful Creator of the universe, they had indeed survived so much.
Iris carried a cooled pot from the stove to the counter, briskly wiping her hands on the stained white apron she wore tied around her waist. “Mutti, the stove is ready. Do we need anything else out?”
“Nein, liebling,” Emmeline Abler smiled gently, her light brown, short curls swaying with her every move, “everything is already ready.”
“Mutti-“
A door slammed open and heels echoed across the floor. “Iris-oh, hallo, Frau Abler. Wunderbar to see you.”
“To you as well, Renata.” Emmeline replied with a smile directed at Iris’ longtime best friend. “How is Herr Hirsch doing?”
“My Abba is well, Frau Abler. Saddened to be away from his friends at work, yet happy to be home, and getting quite impatient with having to mostly remain in bed. Oh, Iris! You must come!”
“Come where, Renata?”
“To the harbor! You simply must meet the temporary help your father has hired while my Abba recovers.”
Iris raised an eyebrow. “Why would I want to see the temporary help my father hired, Renata?”
Renata huffed, skipped over, and clasped Iris’ wrists. “Could you just come along? Oh, only if you don’t mind me stealing her, Frau Abler.”
Emmeline smiled, chuckled, shook her head, and waved a gentle hand in dismissal. “Go on. Iris needs to get some sunshine. Oh, and Iris, dear, could you please take this basket to your father? He forgot his midday meal again.”
Iris removed her apron, setting it on a hook in its proper place beside the wooden pantry. She took the basket from her mother, placed a kiss on her Mutti’s cheek, and stepped outside side by side with her best friend since young childhood.
She struggled to keep up with Renata on their way down to the docks, Renata’s strides as long and fast as Iris’ were short and slow, their heels echoing down the stone. “Renata, slow down!”
Renata giggled and came to a sudden stop. Iris huffed, brushing down loose, flyaway strands of her long light brown hair. “You know how short I am. Walking so fast—”
“Iris, liebling! And Renata, hallo. How is your Abba?”
“He is well, Herr Abler. Danke for asking.”
Sporting a smile he was almost famous for, Jeremiah Abler chuckled and pulled Iris into a close yet gentle embrace. “What brings you here, pumpkin?”
Iris offered a playful, scolding look and held up the simple woven basket. “You forgot your midday meal again.”
Jeremiah gasped, took the basket, and gave Iris a quick hug. “Oh, my aging brain. I can never remember a thing.”
“You are not old, Daddy.” Iris argued.
Renata bounced on her heels, her short jet-black bob swaying with the movement, “We were wondering if we could meet the temporary help you hired, Herr Abler.”
“Renata!” Iris hissed.
Jeremiah laughed. “The talk of the town already, isn’t he? Very well…I think you will both enjoy his company. He’s a kind man, now where-? Ah! Herr Schind, come here a moment, will you?”
Steadily, a young man approached.
Iris wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, imagining the temporary help her father had hired, but the young man standing before her certainly wasn’t anywhere close. He wasn’t truly a man, more of a boy. He couldn’t have been any older than fifteen. He was taller than her, as most were, but couldn’t have been any taller than her father’s six feet of height.
His dark blue eyes were somber and his dark brown hair wavy, but his gaze spoke of gentleness. A long, thin scar ran across his left cheek, adding a small tilt to his very faint smile, giving him an almost roguish look, a deep contrast to the kindness in his eyes.
Iris smiled and offered a hand. “Iris Abler.”
Slowly, he took her hand and gave it a gentle shake. “Riker Schind.”
*~*~*~*
Riker began to become present in her life. With him staying in the guestroom of her parents’ home, having been offered a place to stay by her father when the boardinghouse demanded a rent Riker couldn’t afford, she saw him frequently.
He was kind and gentle, just as she’d suspected, but also quiet. It was only occasionally he began a conversation, and rarely spoke unless spoken to but always remained polite.
He seemed odd, hardly speaking with anyone outside the Abler family besides Renata and rarely maintaining eye contact with anyone, especially men. But Iris knew her family already loved him dearly, despite the things that deemed him weird or simple to some.
Still, Riker gave her, and undoubtedly her mother and father, more questions than answers. Though he was unarguably kind, he carried almost an air of mystery about him, rarely discussing or even mentioning a single thing about himself.
Though Iris was far from a fan of men who talked about themselves as if there was no tomorrow, the lack of answers had sparked nasty rumors she wholly despised.
“Iris? Iris, watch where you’re stepping!”
Iris stumbled at the sound of Renata’s loud caution, fumbling on the ladder, a basket with several pears held against her waist by her free arm. Her pumps caught the edge of a single rung, and she felt her body lean backwards.
“Careful.” A quiet whisper and a gentle hand on her back helped her regain her footing.
Iris released a sigh of relief, turned her head, and smiled at her rescuer. “Danke, Riker.”
Riker smiled shyly and diverted his gaze to the ladder. “I-I’ll hold this for you. Do you need me to take the basket?”
“Nein, I have it now. Danke for asking.”
She reached higher into the tree, picking the most mature of the pears. Renata’s loud voice carried through the air, crying, “Don’t you dare get near that ladder, Aber!”
Iris smiled. Just Renata, trying to corral one of her youngest brothers, one sibling out of many. Once she was certain she had picked the mature fruit, Iris began her descent down the ladder, careful to be sure she didn’t drop the basket, extra careful to be sure she didn’t fall.
She took Riker’s hand when offered and allowed him to help her get her feet on the ground. Iris faced him with a gentle smile. “Danke,” she turned her head and glanced at Renata, who had a squirming four-year-old brother in her arms, and released a lilting laugh, “looks like I got the more fun half of the deal.”
Riker smiled, carefully taking the full, hefty basket from Iris’ arms. “Siblings are actually fun.”
Iris raised a single eyebrow. “Oh? Do you have siblings?”
His blue eyes widened, and his gaze quickly diverted to the grassy abode below. “I…I—yes, yeah, I have one sibling. A sister.”
“How old?” Iris asked quietly.
“She’s about nine now. She’s grown up too fast.”
Iris smiled, walking beside Riker back to her family’s small, humble home. “What is her name?”
“…Angelina.”
Iris laid a gentle hand on Riker’s muscled forearm. “Do you miss her?”
Riker’s gaze faltered away once more, and his arm shied from her touch. His shoulders straightened and his lips lapsed into utter silence. Everything in her wished to ease the tension, to say something, do something, to make him feel comfortable.
His behavior confused her and vexed others; though she knew his behavior couldn’t be out of ignorance and especially couldn’t be out of apathy, nor was she angry with such mannerisms, it did spark questions she so deeply desired answers to.
“Danke for leaving me behind. I so deeply appreciate it.” Renata interjected, suddenly beside Iris, dragging a giggling, curly-headed Aber behind her, with two more brothers trailing just behind, poking and prodding each other.
Iris laughed. “Four brothers and three sisters. I don’t know how you keep up with all of them.”
Renata placed a hand on her chest, dramatic and playful as always. “Thank Jehovah that one of my brothers is older than me, because I don’t need another child to corral, especially a boy.”
Iris smiled. It must have been exhausting, but she also sometimes envied Renata’s large family. She always had someone to do something with, and never seemed to lack in companionship.
Iris adored her parents and cherished her close friendship with Renata, but she still knew that when she had children, whenever that was, that she didn’t wish for a child of hers to be an only child.
Renata turned her head, her eyes narrowed. “Liev! Evron! Stop pushing each other onto the ground. You are setting a bad example for Aber.”
The twins continued to fight, and Iris listened as her best friend released a stream of what Iris knew to be Yiddish directed at Renata’s six-year-old brothers that refused to stop.
Iris felt a gentle nudge at her side, and she turned her head to face Riker. She raised an eyebrow. “Hmm?” she mused.
“Can you take the basket for a minute? I have an idea.”
“An idea? An idea for what?” Iris asked softly, but she accepted the woven basket from Riker’s hands.
Riker, for his part, didn’t reply, merely striding to Renata and her three younger brothers. He crouched in front of the fighting twins, slightly tilting his head to the left. “Is that doing anything?”
“He pushed first.” Liev accused, pointing at his identical twin.
“Nuh uh,” Evron shook his head, his black curls bouncing with the movement, “no I didn’t. He pushed me first.”
“Nein! You did!”
Riker smiled softly, offering a hand to both of the boys. “How about you stop fighting and race? I’ll run with you.”
“Run?” Liev asked, eyes wide.
Evron nodded several times. “Ja! I want to run! I can win.”
“What if you two ran as a team? If you beat me, maybe I’ll see if Herr Abler will let you two see the docks.”
Iris watched as the two boys took off, Riker following behind, more sprinting than running. It was the longest conversation she’d ever heard him hold, and the brightest smile she’d ever witnessed upon his face. Perhaps Liev and Evron reminded him of his sister.
Riker seemed reluctant to talk about her, about his family in general. Iris knew to never jump to conclusions, but she knew his family couldn’t be anywhere close, else someone would know who they were, and the silence about his loved ones did leave a single question open.
Did Riker’s family, whoever they were, even know that he was in Iris’ humble hometown?
*~*~*~*
✨ who the Son sets free is free indeed ✨
*throwing a fit because I want more!!!!!*
ahhhhhhhhh!!!!! SOOOOOOO GOOOOOD!!!! I love it!
Man is born for the fight, to be forged and molded into a sharper, finer, stronger image of God
@ellette-giselle Why, thank you💖 But I’m afraid you will have to wait. I have two more books to finish in my current trilogy (one I haven’t even started yet 😂🫠) and possibly other projects. But thank you for your support <3
✨ who the Son sets free is free indeed ✨
@esther-c @rae @savannah_grace2009 @lightoverdarkness6 @koshka @ellette-giselle @mineralizedwritings @anyone-else-idk-lol
I’m trying to start to plot out Leon/Riker’s 3rd novel, simply bc I need to AND with being sick, my brain doesn’t want to handle Broken Shackles right now😅😂🫠
But anywho, for a long time I’ve thought about their 3rd book starting before they go back to Germany and have them go to Germany after a few chapters or so.
But now I’m thinking…and leaning more towards the book starting where Leon/Riker are already in Germany and some of the background info will be filled in a bit later, perhaps bit by bit (especially involving something Riker is struggling with👀).
but idk.
Which idea do y’all think would be more fitting/make more sense?
✨ who the Son sets free is free indeed ✨
Hiiiii XD I’m sorry you’re sick, that’s always rough. What are the plots of the first two books?
“Everything is a mountain”
@whalekeeper Thank you. It’s maybe COVID, but ehhh, I’ve had covid twice already, so I’ll be fine😂 Ty tho💖
Freedom’s Fire (Book 1): Start of the story; Leon/Riker’s journey during WWII; Leon’s plunge into Hatred; Riker’s plunge into Guilt/Shame; ends with an unfinished life story for both of them (spoilers, but🤷🏻♀️)
Broken Shackles (Book 2): Middle of the story, technically; Leon/Riker’s lives in Post WW2 Germany (1945-1946); Leon’s battles with grief/hatred/alcoholism; Riker’s battles with guilt/shame/believing he’s deserving of death/hell and nothing less; eventually culminates in (SPOILERS) Leon coming to the end of himself and coming to God, beginning his healing journey, which involves forgiving Riker face-to-face; brings Leon/Riker both to the beginning of their journeys to healing
✨ who the Son sets free is free indeed ✨
Book 3 will mostly be Leon/Riker back home to help others in Germany (since they both live in the USA now) but also realizing, while helping others, that they’re both still battling with some of the things they did during the war and in post war Germany
For Leon, that mostly involves him still working through his grief (with a realization that he doesn’t have to just “move on” and amidst his pain God is still close) and still struggling, though he believes God now and knows God will never leave him, to trust God with the future of his life
For Riker, that involves still wrestling with past regrets, past guilt, and the shame that still remains from what he did during the War. He kind of believes God forgave him, but also questions God’s full forgiveness, and continues to hold onto his shame out of a place of outwardly believing in God’s forgiveness, but internally…he’s still not sure. He no longer sees God as cruel and one who would send Riker to Hell for the smallest of mistakes, but also doesn’t quite believe in God’s forgiveness either, if that makes any sense😅
✨ who the Son sets free is free indeed ✨
Sorry about replying like 20 minutes later! I forgot I was signed in, and started drawing on my digital art device before realizing 😅
Okay cool! I’ve known about the internal conflict, since you focus a lot on those two struggles in your posted scenes. What about the physical conflict/action they’re dealing with? Like what are they doing in Germany/USA? Is there some antagonistic force they work against throughout the series, or are they trying to accomplish something?
“Everything is a mountain”
I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THOSE SCENES YOU SHARED!! Gahh! Especially the second one! Now I like Riker even more!! XD XD
🤍 Ira | Jara | Evelyn | Flaz | Blaine 🤍
@savannah_grace2009 I have a Tenz scene!
@ellette-Giselle @grcr @keilah-h @loopylin @whalekeeper @freed_and_redeemed @whoeverIt’s not that great, so don’t go in expecting much
Tenz brought his knees up to his chest, resting his cheeks on his patella’s, and wrapping his arms around his legs. His large, childish eyes looked from Roan resting on the dusty bed in the dilapidated cabin to Misty who was staring at him.
“Tenz, you just killed someone back there!” Misty stroked a small braid in her hair nervously, still trying to sort out what exactly had happened.
Tenz shrugged. “He lied to me.”
“That’s not an excuse to kill someone!”
“He was going to hurt you,” Tenz offered up another excuse for his actions.
“Couldn’t you have just knocked him out?”
“I only do that when they want him alive.”
“They? Whose they?”
Tenz put a hand on the teal women’s jacket on the floor next to him which he took with him everywhere like a child dragging his baby blanket around. He stroked it gently. “Omi, and the others.”
“Who’s Omi?” Misty’s eyebrows drew together.
“She’s my scientist.”
“Your scientist? What are you talking about?”
“My scientist. She watched over me, took care of me, studied me.”
Misty wondered if the reason why Tenz was so odd was because he was some kind of lab animal. Was that how he could become some kind of glowing person, defeat a crowd of people with a swipe of his arm, and fly Misty and her brother to this place? Was he some creepy government experiment? Her thoughts burst as Roan sat up, holding his head.
“What’s happened?” He asked, looking around.
“Tenz saved us.”
Roan turned to Tenz. “Thank you.”
Tenz looked up at him with his big blue eyes again. “Can you tell me why Misty says that being lied to isn’t a good excuse to kill someone?”
Roan, alarmed, looked at Misty. “He killed the army leader because he lied to him,” Misty quickly explained.
“Tenz, it’s never good to kill someone. It’s wrong,” Roan chastised the mentally six-year-old.
“But Omi and they didn’t think so. They told me to kill all the time. They didn’t think it was wrong.”
“So if this they told you to kill Misty and I you just would? Are you so blind and childish as to follow instructions just like that without even thinking about if it’s right or not?!” Roan yelled, his quick anger rising as he realized how dangerous their companion was.
Tenz pushed himself into the corner, hiding his face in his knees. “Roan’s yelling at me like they. Roan’s being mean,” He whined quietly.
“Tenz, for now on, I want you to stay away from my sister. Know what? Stay away from us.”
“But Roan–“
“It’s safer for us, Misty. Be quiet.” Roan got up, still holding his head. “In fact, you and I should leave here. Tenz, you stay until we’re gone, got it?”
“Roan’s head hurt?” Tenz asked quietly, his face still buried.
“I’m fine, you just stay here. C’mon, Misty.” Roan took his sister’s hand, pulling her towards the door. She resisted him.
“Roan, we can’t just leave him here! He’s basically just a kid!”
“He’s just an immature, brainless killer. He’ll be fine. C’mon Misty.”
“Bye, Tenz. I hope you find your family,” Misty said as Roan dragged her through the dust to the door of the shack, tears beginning to form as she turned away with her brother. As they reached the door, Roan froze, shock over his face. Misty gasped, seeing a pale white light surrounding her brother. She looked to where Tenz had been in the corner. In a cloud of dust, Tenz shown through, his eyes that same glowing white vapor, his hair caught in an unnatural wind, and his skin glowing. His hand was stretched out towards Roan.
“Tenz! What are you doing? Stop!” Misty cried.
“Roan’s head still hurts.”
Misty watched with terrified eyes as Tenz pulled Roan close to him.
“You asked if I would kill you and Misty.” Tenz’s voice filled the room, powerful like thunder.
“Tenz stop! Put Roan down!” Water rolled down Misty’s cheeks.
“The answer is I don’t kill those who are my…” Tenz paused, searching for a word. “Mean…the same to me as…Omi.” Tenz powered down, his body morphing back into its normal state. “And now Roan’s head doesn’t hurt.” Tenz smiled with pride at Roan like a little child does at their father after they draw with marker all over the walls.
Roan blinked, and Misty rushed to him, embracing him in a tight hug. “Tenz,” Roan paused in wonder. “What did you just do?”
“I made Roan’s head stop hurting so that he doesn’t have to hold it anymore.”
"You need French Toast."
CONGRATS to @kyronthearcanin!!! She is now PUBLISHED!!!!!! 🎉🎊🎉🎊🎉🎉
@esther-c @acancello @savannah_grace2009 @whalekeeper @mineralizedwritings @freed_and_redeemed @rae @highscribeofaetherium @calyhuge @jonas @princesachronicles @thearcaneaxiom @trailblazer @everybody!"Be careful, for writing books is endless, and much study wears you out." Eccl. 12:12
!!!!!!!!!!
Let’s go!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I haven’t chatted with Solfyre in a while, I’m so happy she’s made it! Is it her original sci-fi with the mixed breed wolf?
He is perfect in Justice, yet He is perfect in Mercy, even when we fail Him. For this, He is good.
Thank you so much!!! It’s still crazy, and I’m incredibly excited to share Healer with everyone.
Thank you!! Yeah, I’ve been off KP for quite a while, everything’s been so busy!! Hopefully I can hop on every once in a while. And yep, that’s the story! (:
Follow your heart, but take your brain with you.
@ellete-giselle I’m glad you didn’t scrap him lol. He deserves to fight with Crosshair and Mundy over what remains of my mental state XD
(those two are my snipers, I can show you a couple images of them if you’d like.)
anyway….
What happens to Jack??? Does he become like Freedom’s poor boy Riker???? What happens?? I need to know!!!
ooh more characters! Can’t wait to meet them!
Where'd I get ya this time? The liver? The kidney? I'm runnin' outta places to put holes in ya.
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