Peter peered between the boards nailed to the window in the basement. There were no stars tonight. The treeline was silent and still. He shifted in his usual seat. The floor was uncomfortable, but the few chairs were for grownups. He turned back to the preacher. Back to papa.
Adam’s voice was hushed but passionate. His words, urgent and pleading, were being downloaded straight from the Creator. As the shepherd spoke, the remaining flock nodded, murmured, “yes, Lord.”
Peter frowned as a light broke the sanctity of the horizon. A star? No, there were no stars tonight. The light grew nearer. His heart stopped.
Peter ran to Adam, “Papa, they’re here!” Adam paled, but didn’t hesitate. “Run to the trees,” his congregation was already out the door. “Move as fast as you can.” Adam stared ahead, fingering the cross hanging from his neck.
“Come on Papa,” Peter tugged on his arm, “I’m scared.”
Papa knelt by Peter. “You go without me,” he retrieved his worn Bible and pressed it into Peter’s hand. “Remember, this is our calling,” a firm kiss on the cheek. “Now run.”
Peter collapsed into tears near the treeline. The Bible fell, landing open on an underlined passage in Revelation.
Be faithful unto death, and I will give you the crown of life.
The chilling, public cry of the martyr pierced the stillness of the night.
He looked ahead to the trees, and behind to his papa.
A shout. He’d been spotted.
And Peter was running again.
© Sophie Alexander, 2025. All rights reserved. Do not repost without permission.
