Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. A Rainbow Window by Evelyn J. Steward (romance book recommendations .txt) 📖
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as such, sad to say. Elise just could not get her head around its modern day changes of how things were. In the end, she handed the Bible back to the Vicar, thanking him.
“I have no idea what to do about that dream,” she told him. “But I will try to be the best person I can be. I was already leading ‘a Christian’ life before the dream; its morals, its Society rules and so on but even though I know loads more than I did, I still cannot get my head around the belief of an all-powerful being, hearing what we say and seeing what we do.”
“It all comes down to the fact that He has to be in our hearts. Sadly, yours is closed off to him. You are (again I quote) the lost lamb that will never see the inside of the fold. Elise, He knows this and lets you go your own way.”
“But what about the dream?”
“You started teaching in that little school. These are your little lambs you are bringing into the fold. They are the lost souls your dream spoke of. You have not seen it, have you?”
“Not until you just told me.”
Elise went back to her new life, to the pre-school children in her care. Sometimes she told them stories from her Bible, which they enjoyed. She gave them no explanations. To her they were just stories, but stories children were always taught when she was a girl at school. They would have to make up their own minds as they grew older.
So, those summer days, after class was over, she would sit in her window seat, the rainbow spilling down over her legs, and read the Bible, just for the tales therein. She would also, on occasion, walk down to St. Bartholmew’s church to sit in the light of the rainbow coloured window there and reflect on the path she had taken after the dream.
© Copyright Evelyn J. Steward. 5th November, 2012
Words 2105
Imprint
“I have no idea what to do about that dream,” she told him. “But I will try to be the best person I can be. I was already leading ‘a Christian’ life before the dream; its morals, its Society rules and so on but even though I know loads more than I did, I still cannot get my head around the belief of an all-powerful being, hearing what we say and seeing what we do.”
“It all comes down to the fact that He has to be in our hearts. Sadly, yours is closed off to him. You are (again I quote) the lost lamb that will never see the inside of the fold. Elise, He knows this and lets you go your own way.”
“But what about the dream?”
“You started teaching in that little school. These are your little lambs you are bringing into the fold. They are the lost souls your dream spoke of. You have not seen it, have you?”
“Not until you just told me.”
Elise went back to her new life, to the pre-school children in her care. Sometimes she told them stories from her Bible, which they enjoyed. She gave them no explanations. To her they were just stories, but stories children were always taught when she was a girl at school. They would have to make up their own minds as they grew older.
So, those summer days, after class was over, she would sit in her window seat, the rainbow spilling down over her legs, and read the Bible, just for the tales therein. She would also, on occasion, walk down to St. Bartholmew’s church to sit in the light of the rainbow coloured window there and reflect on the path she had taken after the dream.
© Copyright Evelyn J. Steward. 5th November, 2012
Words 2105
Imprint
Publication Date: 11-06-2012
All Rights Reserved
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