Christian Short Stories


Rachel writes: "I am 14 years old and I want to use my talent to bring glory to God."

The Girl's Snow
By Rachel Burick


Slam! My dad just came home. He just visited the bar… again. Ever since Mom abandoned us Dad has been trying to drink away his sorrows. Every night he comes home drunk and angry.

The routine is just about to start. I asked him, “Do you need help to your room?”

He replied with a slap to my face and said, “Does it look like I need help?” To say yes would be a garneted black eye.

So I said a quiet, “Sorry Dad,” and I got the heck out of there. I did not need all the “What happened to you?” talk. But oh no, he was not finished with me yet. Nope, he slammed me up against the wall and yelled, “You idiot! Question me why don’t you!” The last thing I remembered was his big fist heading for my face.

At about 5:00 a.m. birds were chirping and the sun was peeking through the blinds. Dad was still asleep. I tried to pick myself off the ground and get out of there before Dad woke up. Pain shot up my leg. I guess hitting me in the face was not the only thing he did.

I hobbled to the bathroom to see what damage had been done. Great! I had a record breaking black eye. I climbed into the shower and let the cool water sooth my swollen leg and eye.

It is time to address the ugly purple cloud that had polluted my face. No matter how much make up I put on my eye the purple was not going away! Tears started to fall down my cheeks. All these questions filled my mind. Why does he get so angry? Why did Mom leave me? I hate this! I want to go away and never come back! I want to die!

Finally makeup covered the hideous black eye. I walked over to my friend Lisa’s house. She came running to open the door when she saw my tear stained face. “What is wrong?” She asked. I told her I had a bad night. She is a great friend; she never asks too many questions, she just focuses on being a friend.

We ended up going to the mall. Lisa said I needed something new to wear (it is her answer to everything). Ta da! I came out in a cute pink dress and a pair of sparkly flats to match.

“Rose, what happened?” Lisa came and examined my battered leg. Why did I not see that? Concern was written all over her face. Before she could say, “What happened?” I dragged her into the change room.

“Promise not to tell anyone, not even your mom?”

She gave a quick nod and said, “I promise.” Lisa looked so afraid. She had no idea what was coming.

“My dad……my dad beats me.” Tears spilled down my cheeks. Lisa came over and gave me the biggest hug I ever received. Through a teary and high pitched voice she told me that she would pray for me. “You should get that dress. You look so good in it,” Lisa told me.

Just as I got up to the cashier my phone rang. It was Dad. “Come home. I need you.” His gruff voice said.

I wanted to yell at the top of my lungs, “I will come home when you stop hurting me!”

I paid for the dress and told Lisa I had to go home. “No! You can not! You can come live with me and we will run off to some place tropical!” She yelled.

I had to chuckle. I wish I could I told her. When we reached my house she whispered to me, “You come over to my house every day and every night call me.”

“If I can,” I replied. I hugged her and said bye.

As soon as I opened the door the overpowering smell of alcohol filled my nose. “Rose is that you?”

Taking a deep breath I yelled, “Yup!” He was sitting on the couch with about 5 empty beer bottles. “Why are you here? I do not need a nuisance right now! Go away!”

I left. I didn’t want another black eye. I went over to Lisa’s again.

“Hi!” She said in her usual joyful voice. “We were just about to leave for our Bible study; want to come?”

I didn’t believe in God. If there was a God why would he put me through this? But going to this Bible study would give me more time with my friend. So I went.

It was held in an old rundown community center. An old man got up to speak. “You have probably all heard the story of when Jesus died on the cross for us. But I am going to tell it to you again.”

When he started to talk about how Jesus was mocked and beaten and about how God can do anything, something inside me jumped. If Jesus was mocked and beaten then he felt what I feel and understands it. I thought about that the whole way home.

When they dropped me off at my house Lisa again told me to call her. Opening the door I hoped Dad would be asleep by now. He was not. In fact he was wide awake and ready to charge. “Where were you? I needed you here!” With that he threw one of his empty beer bottles at me.

Starting to cry I said, “Why do you hurt me so much? Aren’t dad’s supposed to protect their kids, not hurt them?” For that I knew I would be hurt. He hit me again and again and again. When I fell down he started kicking me.

“I hate you!” He screamed. He started to kick harder and harder and I started to feel myself slipping away.

At that moment I prayed, “God, if you are real, please let it snow.” It was in the middle of July but if God was like the God that the Pastor spoke of then snow would come. As soon as those words came out of my lips it started to snow. Snow like I have never seen before. It was whiter than white and it sparkled like the stars. It was beautiful. I forgot all that was happening. I felt so at peace. I did not hate my mom and dad anymore. I loved them. I forgave them. Then I heard the most loving and gentle voice say, “I love you my daughter.” It was not my Dad’s voice but God’s, my Father.

(© 2011 Rachel Burick – All rights reserved. Written material may not be duplicated without permission.)



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