Return of the Deadly Tiger Underneath the Promenade

[PJ]

Hi, I decided to write a few short stories, and the title (Return of the Deadly Tiger...) is random

Story 1: Story of My Life
"This is Pastor H.T. Sanders. The fact that you're hearing this recording now means you've missed the Rapture."

The curtain lowered, until it met the grounds of the stage.

"Freeze! Put your hands on the ground!" We heard the shouts, and saw the troops move in towards us rapidly. They were dressed in camouflage uniform. Each soldier held an automatic machine gun pointing at someone's head in the crowd.

"Noooooo! Help!!!" The shriek of misery came from the front of the auditorium. A young lady has been captured.

The first victim.

She was taken--no, dragged--away.

What we saw thereafter put me out of my comfort zone. Not because it painted a bleak view of Christian community in the post-Rapture world, but because... of their mannerism, perhaps...

The reenactment of the Rapture was a showcase for post-Rapture Christian faith, but it only troubled me for a moment. I could not help the distraction... what troubled me more... was why I was here.

Earlier in the service, the pastor asked us to donate a few dollars to the bucket coming around. It was a normal drill.

I passed.

I never skipped a donation at church.

But this time, I skipped.

At that moment, I wondered whether Hunter would have felt disappointed.

Or upset.

Or even betrayed,

If he knew the reason.

If he knew how I really felt.

I had come for him...

2 weeks ago

My car experienced some technical problems.

In the middle of nowhere.

Surrounded by cornfields, one after another.

I drove for 20 more minutes.

At last, I pulled into the church parking lot.

It was the first convenient establishment along the road.

I just pulled in to take a look at the car, but what do I know about cars?

"May I help you?"

This sounded like a friendly voice.

He stood in front of the church entrance, where I had parked.

Our initial encounter.

Story of my life.

I was half stranded. He happened to be there. He offered to help.

Within an hour, my car was restored to working condition.

Voilà.

But I didn't leave for another 3 hours.

I felt a strong connection.

Our conversations flowed like a good drink into my bloodstream.

Not only was he good with cars.

Extremely knowledgeable, and yet: humble.

I had somewhere to be, but I didn't want to leave.

If you just met someone who understands the same "terms" as you on a deep level, wouldn't you hold on to a friend like that?

Alas, it was not meant to be.

At least, I could not bring myself to embrace the friendship with open arms.

Up till then, I was grateful for his help, and attracted to his charisma.

Sometimes, ignorance is bliss.

When he gave me that card, I felt a shocking trembling throughout my body.

Later, I kept telling myself: "he was just trying to help."

He was just being nice to introduce myself to a new church.

But... did it have to be that church?

Did he have to be that way?

Does it matter?

My mind was a bit chaotic. I don't have many beliefs, but this was one of them, and I couldn't reconcile the reality with my feelings.

My innate feelings.

They, too, claim to have innate feelings.

Isn't my feeling as good as theirs?

If they don't have to change, why should I?

Today

As I watched the performers in the reenactment of the Rapture, I found myself asking again: is he really one of them?

I'm sorry, but I'm not comfortable with them.

These men, they talk with high pitched voice, use verbage such as "honey", "baby" and "darling" casually, and walk with swinging hips and one leg slightly crossed in front of the other.

I'm not here to judge anybody, and yet, I'm clear that I feel uncomfortable around this environment.

For 2 weeks, I debated whether I should come to this church.

I knew I was bound to see a group of men acting outside my comfort zone.

But, I told myself: he's not like them.

He was different.

He told me to come sit with them, and pray with them--and I did.

And this is how I feel.

November 8, 1 year ago

I joined the long line at the state capitol.

On my way here, I had seen the protests.

And the protests to the protests.

Both sides demonstrated fiercely.

As for me, I came here to cast my vote for one side.

However, I would never tell the other side in the face that they're wrong.

Because I don't believe there is a right and a wrong.

There is only what you perceive.

And how you feel.

Story of my life.

Today

As I passed the bucket to the person next to me, I wondered: would Hunter be willing to help me like he did, if he knew I couldn't bring myself to donate to a gay church because I wasn't comfortable being around gay people? If he knew that I voted against gay rights in last year's ban on same-sex marriage, would he still have lent me a helping hand? And, for me, knowing that he is gay, would I still receive his friendship?

Whether or not Hunter would change his mind because of me, I do not know. But I do know this: it would be my honor to have a friend like him, regardless of his lifestyle.

[pandamao]

Lol. I clicked on the wrong thread and then I just kept reading it.

It's a bit complicated at some point but I guess I sort of got your story.

It was ... interesting. In a good way of course. At least I read it all.

[PJ]

Story 2: Concealed With a Glance

The first time I glanced at him, I hadn't noticed much.

He wore a cap that concealed part of his face, his most precious feature.

Since then, we've met 2 additional times.

Each time, I've wanted him more.

Bless his silky white skin, and his genial & masculine voice; it permeates my every senses and fixes them to it so that when he speaks, it's the only thing that exists. It casts a power on my body that renders it immobile. In my mind, I can't wait to hold him in my arms and--

"--What kind of girl do you like?"

Hearing her voice snapped me back to reality.

"Umm..." I replied with a safe and generic answer as I shoved a spoonful into my mouth.

"I think you like the kind of girl who doesn't tell you what she wants." She grinned.

"Oh, really."

She continued: "Because you're not the kind of person who wants to be told what to do. You like challenges. You want to be creative."

"Hmm." I twitched a little as I suddenly felt a little cold.

"But remember, if you want to make a relationship work, you have to put her priorities first." She ended with a glance to Sean.

----------------------------
In my mind, I had constructed a different answer.

"Like Sean."

"I want a man like Sean."

----------------------------
When she glanced at him, it was love.

Something I have to conceal.

If she knew the person I deeply wanted was not who she thought it would be, if she knew that the one I long for day and night is sitting next to her--her husband, would we still be sitting at the dinner table?

Dinner continues, and life goes on.