Won Year

She was on the brink of ultimate corruption. In a swift moment of weakness, in the blink of a heartbeat, she would be destroyed. She inched closer to her end without looking at the target. Her neck twisted with anger, her eyes searching for her unspoken salvation.

She was faced with a dilemma unknown to her library of experience. With unprecedence comes confusion. And with that confusion, she would have made a decision that would have filthified the purest of waters continents away. She would have expunged her soul from the confines of serenity, and delved deep into boiling muck of scum.

She was simultaneously presented with a gift box, the contents of which were unknown, but which was legitimate no matter what the results. She wasn't torn. She was nudged from one direction to another. That cliff all of a sudden grew matter and stretched out to create an infinite plane impossible to drop from. But the thoughts of suicide reemerged and she headed toward the cliff, and the plane disintegrated, moaning in disappointment and pity. She continued to hope for His lead.


Would He send it? Well of course.

The sound of a reason was more like a thunderous bolt of lightning smacking any last thread doubting goodness and edging on to disaster. The sound unveiled truth from its brethren, growth from failure, and chance from certain doom.

She listened. How dare she not. She chose to be chosen.
She freed herself from shackled immunity to truth.

He let her go. He let her see. Gratitude is all she can give.