Chronicles

“Come closer,”

My heart thuds. How had He known I stood here?

“Come.”

My pulse quickens. I look away. Perhaps He spoke to someone else.

“Rebecca.”

No! He knew my name! How?

I shrink away into the dark shadows. The light of His presence scares me.

“Rebecca.”

There it was again. He knew my name. How? I had no idea.

“I…I…” I am ashamed. My voice is painfully soft. “I am…am here.”

“I know. Come. Please.”

I inch closer. My toes nearly reach the edge of the gentle glow. I want the light. I do. But I don’t. It scares me.

“Please.”

His voice is gentle.

“I want you.”

My cheeks are warm. He wants me?

“Please come.”

My palms are sweaty. My heart races. I step forward. I step into the circle of light.

“Come. Come closer.”

My head is bowed. How much closer will He beckon me? I inch nearer. I am standing before the large, oak desk. My nose twitches. I smell wet ink. Fresh paper. My reserve slides. The familiar rustle of manuscript and scratch of pen invites me.

His enormous hand holds a golden pen.

I look up in surprise. I raise my eyes for the first time. “Why…You write!”

He smiles. His eyes twinkle. “Yes I do.”

“Who are You?”

 He sets His pen aside. “Who do you think I am?”

 I look away. “I can’t begin to say.  Please. Tell me. Who are You?”

 “I am the Great Author, Rebecca. I invented the idea.”

“What idea?”

“Writing.”

My cheeks flush. I feel foolish. I ask another question. “How did You know my name?”

His eyes grow soft. He leans forward. “Rebecca. Don’t you know?”

“Know?”

“Rebecca, I wrote your story.”