The Chat Chat

[freedom]

@rae I’m so glad you’re doing well🥰 Rowing sounds fun, and I’m glad you’ve found a good friend :3

AND WOO HOOOOO ON THE STORY PROGRESS!!!! 🎉🎉🎉

I’m glad everyone’s doing…fine. Most of them sound good, others…I may be a little concerned XXD

I’m so sorry. 😭😭 I miss him too.

 

Leon and Riker are….fine??? I guess??? I’m currently editing Broken Shackles for the 2nd time, and where I’m at now…ermmmm…they may or not be on their way to being brought to their most broken state😅

So, if editing doesn’t count, they’re chilling out with some blankets and hot cocoa somewhere chilly and relaxing with a fireplace and books and comfy couches since I’m done writing them for the next several months 😁😆 (until I start writing the 3rd book, but planning on waiting until at least 2025 for that)

• This reply was modified 1 month ago by freedom.

What is strength?
Strength, my son, is being who God has called you to be.

[freedom]

@anyone

Idk if any of y’all have Goodreads, but if you do and wish to do so, I have an account on there, and Freedom’s Fire is on there as well! 😁 (just delete the space after the h to see the profile)

h ttps://www.goodreads.com/author_katelyn_douglas

What is strength?
Strength, my son, is being who God has called you to be.

[RAE]

@freed_and_redeemed

So, if editing doesn’t count, they’re chilling out with some blankets and hot cocoa somewhere chilly and relaxing with a fireplace and books and comfy couches since I’m done writing them for the next several months 😁😆

Now you’re gonna make me cry happy tears!

Man, I can’t wait until Nahim can do that, but alas, he doesn’t know what hot cocoa is.

“Gargoyles and thickets, griffins and briskets."

[The Ducktator]

@esther-c

I’m bad at plotting, but I can try.

Communist jokes aren’t funny unless everyone gets them.

[Ellette Giselle]

@freed_and_redeemed

i just left you a little gift on goodreads!

😀

Riker dropped his voice to a soft whisper. “…I’m home.”

[HighScribe]

@freed_and_redeemed

I’m on Goodreads, if you’d like another friend.

Home is where your massive, overflowing collection of LEGO bricks is.

[freedom]

@highscribeofaetherium Sure! Just let me know what your name is on there, so I’ll know it’s you XD

@ellette-giselle Thank you for your gift. It means so much💜💜💜

What is strength?
Strength, my son, is being who God has called you to be.

[whaley]

GASP guys I’m over 3000 posts! That’s actually insane, I can’t believe I yap so much.

“Everything is a mountain”

[Loopy]

@anyonewhoknowswhoFelis

Should I make Felicity albino and give her pink eyes, or keep her original silvery eyes? I can’t decide

“Everyone wants to save the world, but no one wants to help mom with the dishes.”

[Loopy]

@whalekeeper

Congrats, you’re a expert yapper 🌟

“Everything is a mountain”

What

“Everyone wants to save the world, but no one wants to help mom with the dishes.”

[Ellette Giselle]

@loopylin

I don’t know who this character is, but silver eyes sound WAY cooler then pink.

Riker dropped his voice to a soft whisper. “…I’m home.”

[whaley]

@loopylin

Should I make Felicity albino and give her pink eyes, or keep her original silvery eyes? I can’t decide

I like her silver eyes because they make me think of a snowy academia setting, that’s my personal preference. But choose whichever makes you more happy.

Congrats, you’re a expert yapper 🌟

*Pins star on my shirt*

What

It’s a Marcel quote about depression. It popped into my head while studying, and it made a lot of sense at the time.

“Everything is a mountain”

[HighScribe]

@freed_and_redeemed

Ok! I’m Bridget E. on Goodreads.

I’ll send a request.

Home is where your massive, overflowing collection of LEGO bricks is.

[Loopy]

@whalekeeper

It’s a Marcel quote about depression. It popped into my head while studying, and it made a lot of sense at the time.

Oh. That hits kinda hard actually. I thought it was going to be something funny. 😅

 

@whaley @ellette-giselle

thanks for the input! I decided the silver fits her wintery vibe better.

I’ll have to make some other albino character sometime cuz it seems fun to draw

“Everyone wants to save the world, but no one wants to help mom with the dishes.”

[freedom]

@koshka @ellette-giselle @whalekeeper @grcr @rae @savannah_grace2009 @keilah-h @highscribeofaetherium @mineralizedwritings @loopylin @anyone-else

I haven’t written much of anything new lately (editing/formatting is draining, y’all😪) but I have this scene I shared a while back but have now edited (plus not all of y’all were here when I shared it, so🤷🏻‍♀️) that I wished to share👀

so here we go

TW: FLASHBACKS. MENTIONS OF DEATH. FLASHBACK TO M*RDER. PARENTAL AB*SE. NONE OF IT IS GRAPHIC, I PROMISE. Y’ALL SHOULD KNOW ME WELL ENOUGH BY NOW TO KNOW EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE ANGST. (jkjk, but a lot of it is XD)

 

“The Lord has been faithful even in the darkest of nights. His word promises, ‘And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.’ I know we have just left a dark time, and dark days still lie before us, but God will turn all of this into good, church…he will.” Ezekiel Gessner preached, firm yet quiet, leaning forward, his palms planted on a simple wooden pulpit.

Riker ducked his head a bit lower, seated in the empty, furthest pew from the pulpit he could find. He shifted on the cold wood that was anything but comfortable.

“There is much anger in this land we call home. The darkness has been exposed and people have been hurt. I understand the hurt and I too have felt the anger, but I stand before all of you now to say that only forgiveness can heal this land from the scars of the war we are struggling to leave behind us.”

Forgiveness?

How did the hurt forgive the ones that had hurt, like Riker?

“But forgiveness is not impossible, and for those who are the ones who hurt the hurting, forgiveness is only a sentence away. For, ‘if we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.’ No one, no one is too far gone for the grace of our Lord, my fellow brothers and sisters…no one. Nothing you’ve done can ever change the Father’s love for you.”

‘No one except you, sinner…murderer.’

Riker shifted; his fingers trembled.

‘Murderer.’

‘You’re too far gone for redemption.’

‘It’s too late for you…God has already left someone like you.’

‘God doesn’t want a mistake like you.’

He jolted forward, and several heads turned to face him, some with contempt, others with deep, unmerited concern.

None of them knew what he’d done, and even if they did, only the looks of contempt were deserved.

It wasn’t true.

It couldn’t be true.

There wasn’t grace for men like him. There wasn’t forgiveness for murderers. There wasn’t mercy for sinners. There wasn’t love for mistakes.

So, then, what was he doing inside a church?

He stumbled to his feet, his legs threatening to give way beneath him. He stumbled his way outside the church and onto the street, each step threatening to make him topple.

Why had he ever even thought of attending Calvary church? He didn’t belong there. He didn’t belong anywhere near any church.  Ezekiel was wrong. He had to be. Why would God waste His mercy, if He had any, on a sinner like Riker Schind?

Riker shoved his way into a bar, ignoring the scents of drinks he hated more than himself. “There you are, Schind. I thought you’d be here sooner. He’s at that table over there in the corner.”

Riker nodded at the man behind the counter and strode over to the corner he frequented almost every night. “Come on. It’s time to go.”

Eyes bloodshot, a cigarette in one hand and a glass filled with amber alcohol in the other, his father offered a slight smile. “Ah, Riker. Care for a drink, son?”

His arm moved, his hand shaking. The cup tilted and alcohol spilled over Riker’s coat.

Riker blanched and faced his father with the firmest frown he could muster even though his fingers trembled knowing what he was about to face. “Put down the drink and put out the cigarette, Father. It’s time to go home.”

Franz stumbled to his full height, swaying on his feet. “I don’t think you tell me what to do, boy,” his words slurred together, becoming almost indistinguishable. He dropped his cigarette, “And you don’t hold that tone with me.”

Riker pried the glass from his father’s fingers. “I think you’ve had enough. Please, let’s just go home.”

“Give me back my-my drink, boy…”

He stood taller and threw the cup against the wall, shattering the glass and spilling alcohol across the floor. “You’ve had enough.”

His father’s hand came, as Riker knew it would, knocking Riker backwards into a table. Franz swayed, looming over Riker. “You don’t tell me what…to do, boy.”

He groaned and leaned his head back, anticipating the blows that were certain to follow the first. A fist met a table with an echoing thud.

One shot. Two shots. The man’s legs crumpled beneath him, his still body hitting the ground with an echoing thud. Another innocent life taken. More guards rose their guns. More gunshots. More still bodies to join the first.

“Schind! Riker!”

Riker jolted forward, his head ramming into another man’s. The man cussed, and Riker blinked several times to clear his vision. “I-I’m sorry, sir.”

The gray-haired man who had been standing behind the counter at Riker’s arrival, the man he knew to be the one who ran the bar shrugged and nodded towards the corner booth. “Might be the best time to take your father home, son. He’s already asleep.”

Riker stumbled to his feet. “I-I will. Thank you, sir.”

The man chuckled. “You’re always having to drag him home, son. Maybe you should just leave him here. I don’t care. More business for me.”

Laughter echoed through the still space, and his cheeks flamed. “I need to take him home, sir.” He placed his hands beneath his father’s armpits, and, with effort, hoisted his father up and partially on his back, his father’s feet dragging the floor.

Chuckles and booming laughs echoing in his ears, Riker pushed himself forward, his legs threatening to give way beneath him, carrying his own weight and the weight of his father.

He marched outside into the rain he hadn’t noticed began to fall, his boots slipping on the wet cobblestone. Red-hot tears coursed down his cheeks, warming his cold skin.

The humiliation of dragging his father home dead drunk almost every night was far from unfamiliar, but even that fact didn’t take away the pain of it all.

If his father forgot what happened, he’d be lucky.

Even if it was pain he deserved, it didn’t take the pain away.

~*~

“You made it, Leon.”

Leon nodded at Aaron. “My mother-in-law is with the kids.”

Aaron smiled and gripped Leon’s forearm. “Come with me. The other men are already waiting.”

Leon allowed Aaron to pull him further into the abandoned factory, struggling to adjust to the darkness. Dim lanternlight shone in his eyes, illuminating the large space enough to see but not enough to detect from outside.

Aaron released his arm. “Everyone, this is Leon, the man I told all of you about.”

A tall man stood, his burly body nothing more than a shadow besides his bearded face crisscrossed with scars. He extended a large hand. “Joash Levy.”

Leon took his hand and gave it a firm shake. “Leon Wagner.”

Aaron clapped the man, Joash, on the back and offered Leon a smile. “Joash was imprisoned at Auschwitz in Poland…I’m sure you’ve heard of it,” Leon nodded, so Aaron continued, “and eventually was brought here to Germany and escaped another camp several miles from here. He has helped us fight back against the Nazis.”

Leon dropped his voice to a dangerous whisper. “Aaron, what is this about?”

“This is about revenge.”

His gaze rose, and he met Joash’s hard, dark gaze. “And what exactly do you mean by revenge?”

Aaron rose a half-smile. “I already told you, Leon, we’ll take everything from them that they took from us. Their lives, even.”

Evil for evil and a life for a life: that was their revenge. The men that had done what they did to Leon, Aaron, Isaiah, Yosef, Joash, and so many others deserved to die, Leon knew that, but was it really left to their hands?

“Murder is wrong, Aaron. And is revenge really up to you?”

“‘He teacheth my hands to war, so that a bow of steel is broken by mine arms.’” Joash quoted, standing firm.

Leon bristled at the quoted scripture and faced Joash with a firm shake of his head. “I don’t think you know what you’re doing.”

Joash took two steps forward, his solid frame looming in front of Leon. Leon stood firm and tall even though his head barely reached the man’s chest.  “I don’t think he should be here, Haddad,” Joash scoffed and faced Aaron, “he obviously does not share our mission.”

Aaron’s gaze cut to Leon, his brown eyes searching, questioning. “Leon, don’t you want the ones responsible for your wife’s death to pay for their crimes?”

“Ja.”

“Then why don’t you stay? You can help us. You can-“

“Murder is still wrong, Aaron. If we kill them, we’re no better than them.”

Joash’s eyes hardened, so Leon gave both men a firm nod. “Goodbye, Aaron, Joash. I can see myself out.”

Leon marched out of the factory and into the roaring rain.

Each droplet pelted him as if the rain itself mocked him.

Everything in Leon ached to cry out, scream, curse the sky and everything around him, but he also knew that no one on earth or in heaven would even hear or care. He lifted a pebble off the broken street and hurled it with a loud groan deep from within his soul.

What did he do to deserve such pain? What did he do to deserve abandonment? What did he do to deserve such grief? For that matter, what did Aadelheide do to deserve death? Pain squeezed Leon’s chest from the inside out, threatening to steal his breath.

He had to not think about it. He had to forget.

Leon stumbled onto the porch and fumbled with the lock to his mother-in-law’s home, still unable to secure a job so he could provide for his kids on his own.

He opened the door, dishing his coat and tossing it on a rack. He tossed his keys into his coat pocket and trudged his way into the kitchen, opening and slamming cabinets.

“Leon, dear, we have a guest tonight. I know it’s late, but-“

He pulled a glass bottle out of a cabinet and popped off the top before facing Louisa. “Louisa, I’m exhausted-“

“Good evening, Leon. It has been a while.”

Leon blinked several times, his mind desperately trying to sort through everything he’d been through to recognize the man, the face, standing before him. “…Ezekiel?”

Ezekiel rose a small smile and nodded. “It’s me. I had a late Friday night service tonight and decided I would come and see Louisa, but I didn’t know you were living here. I’m happy to see that you and the kids are well.”

Leon shrugged, facing the man he once saw as his pastor. “Of course. Why wouldn’t we be fine?”

Ezekiel’s blonde eyebrows squeezed together, and he rested a hand on Leon’s shoulder. “Leon, you can be honest with me. God knows and understands—”

“There you go, just like everyone else.”

“Leon.” Louisa whispered, chiding.

Leon settled in a chair at the table, offering Ezekiel a smile devoid of any humor. “I’m sure you have other matters to attend to. Why don’t you go sell someone else a bunch of lies?”

Louisa gasped. “Leon!”

Ezekiel turned to Louisa with a small smile. “Louisa, could you give Leon and I a few moments?”

Though she was twenty years Ezekiel’s senior and could have easily said ‘no’, Louisa nodded and left the room.

Leon rolled his eyes and tipped up his glass, savoring the alcohol.

Ezekiel pulled out a chair and sat across from him, crossing his arms on the table and lapsing into silence.

Leon raised an eyebrow and took another sip. “Are you going to say something?”

“I was waiting for you to say something first. Leon, I can’t even imagine the pain you’re going through, and I can’t even pretend to know everything you have been through, but Leon, God is not to blame for Aadelheide’s death.”

“You don’t know that.”

“God does not bring harm on anyone, Leon. Evil happens because of the sin found in every man and woman’s heart. Humanity brought sin into the world, not God.”

Leon chuckled. “I thought God was powerful. If He’s so powerful, why doesn’t He stop it?”

“God gave mankind a free will-“

“That doesn’t matter. Couldn’t God stop it if He wanted to? If He did nothing, it’s because He didn’t want to do anything. He chose to let Aadelheide die. He sat by and watched her—let her—die. That’s what you don’t understand, Ezekiel, that’s what no one understands.”

Ezekiel’s eyes brightened with tears. “Aadelheide believed in Him…she’s in heaven, Leon. I know it hurts, but you have to know that God isn’t to blame—”

“Isn’t to blame? God sat by and did nothing and he’s not to blame for Aadelheide’s death? No, God did nothing and let the Nazis, let Riker, kill her-“

Ezekiel’s head shot up. “Riker? Riker Schind?”

Leon took a long, ingulfing sip. “Yeah. What does it matter to you? He killed my wife.”

Ezekiel’s gaze fell. He released a deep sigh and whispered something Leon couldn’t quite distinguish.

Leon rolled his eyes and rose to his feet, his steps wobbly and his legs threatening to give way beneath him. “I think you should leave.”

Ezekiel slowly nodded and stood. “…I will. But I won’t stop praying for you, Leon.”

“Fat lot of good that will do.”

Ezekiel smiled sadly and disappeared around the corner.

The front door closed with a quiet click.

Leon sank back into his chair, his head spinning. He stared at the ceiling and waited for the alcohol to kick in and numb his pain.

What is strength?
Strength, my son, is being who God has called you to be.

[Author]

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