"There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear."-1 John 4:18

For if our heart condemn us, God is greater than our heart, and knoweth all things.--1 John 3:20

See his face
As you fall with fear
Feel his grace
As you wipe his tears
Wrap around
His golden glow
Feet are bound
Heart is slow

Try to breathe
As you learn to fly
Hero leaves
Tells you not to cry

Left behind
Veiled in fright
Eyes are blind
Can you see the light?
Slowly crawl
Back into your soul
Tear down walls
Find console

Hands reach out
In your embrace
A desperate shout
Take me from this place

Hero knows
Hears your plea
The darkness goes
And now you are free

Lifes own answer
Your release
Saved from this cancer
by The Prince of Peace

Hearts now crossed
Right on cue
The one you lost
Has never lost you

Eternity
it has no claws
or fangs in coats of red
there is nothing
that can hurt you there
nothing to be afraid of
for eternity
is already present
within you, deep
and it holds your fears
and dreams
safe.

everything is going to be okay.

A Late Christmas Story

They'd say there were ghosts in his eyes.

He was small- a frail looking child. On his face were large eyes that belonged on a doll, fringed with equally majestic eyelashes, and his head was topped with the palest wisps of hair any child his age should ever have. He looked almost unreal, as if made of plastic or porcelain, staggering down the midnight-painted streets like a lost kitten nobody wanted.

It had all started with a box sitting humbly by the lake, tied in a ribbon of hope and cradling a lone child who had been expected to live life on his own at a tender infant age. Throughout the years, he had survived merely by the few scraps of leftovers the villagers would leave behind; sweet luxury in his simple mind. If one dared come near enough to the boy, they'd find that he was indeed an emotional little being,often found in whimpers or tearful rage, and yet, he had never learned love. At the brittle age of four, the child had never experienced something so simple as a hug. With his tin-foil eyes and haunting whimpers, people were afraid. They were afraid because the little boy with the abnormally pale locks and phantom skin never spoke or laughed or played. They were afraid because the boy was different.

They called him Ghost. Tales were told about how sometimes, people would claim to see Ghost, back on the lake where he was found, walking. But he would not be walking on the dandelion-adorned grasses or alongside the endless mahogany grounds that ribboned the lake’s sides. He would be walking, with the most perfect synchronized steps, on water. Still, people were skeptic. "Ghost" stories ran wild throughout the village, ranging from the most absurd to the quite believable. But never, in all those curious years of gossip, fear, and wonder, had someone gotten close enough to search the boys’ eyes for proof.

Until now.

It had been a hazy Christmas Eve, the sun had long been set and the sky was beginning to paint it’s miracle of stars. Everyone, excluding Ghost of course, celebrated with great joy, toasting over a glass of champagne with family and friends and singing, half-drunk, to the most off-pitch carols, while they eagerly waited to dive into the endless pile of presents that waited for them under the Christmas tree. Every house in the neighborhood was lit with rainbows of light and decoration, often in silent competition amongst neighbors who hoped that this year, their house would be the one most talked about.

Clink.

“Cheers,” John said with a smile, tapping his champagne-filled glass against his wife’s. He was a young, handsome looking man, with a thin but sturdy built torso and sharp, dark features.
“Cheers,” Audrey replied, her hazel eyes meeting the clock. She herself was quite pretty, with amber hair in curls and a petite but curvy frame that made her the eye candy that John had always dreamed of. She smiled. Only thirty minutes until Christmas.

The two were young, in their early-twenties, with marriage papers signed in blood for commitment until death. They were simple, happy people, who lived in an average house, and decided to celebrate the Holidays this year just the two of them in their own home.

It had been only two weeks since Audrey lost her baby at 20 weeks of pregnancy. Inside, she was still shattered and shaken. It wasn't fair, and she knew it. Unstable, she had not stopped crying the entire time since the loss, but just recently decided to dry up her tears and put on her best face for her husband. She promised herself she would be happy for Christmas, even if she had to fake it.

Audrey sighed, taking a glance out the icy-paned window. “Aww. Look at them. The little kids are all going outside, waiting for Santa. They're so sweet…”

John smirked,” Is the little Ghost kid there? He’s such a creepy little thing…I wonder if he even knows what Christmas is,” he joked.”He’s probably playing in some dumpster, plotting to kidnap Santa Claus.”

Audrey couldn’t help but giggle. Ghost really was odd. However she, like most of the village, feared him. Rumors of his violence kept everyone walking on eggshells. Audrey put a hand over her mouth, ending her amusement.

“Yeah. But we shouldn’t joke about him,” She said softly. “You know what they say, if you kid around too much with the boy, he just may come searching for you.”

“You know that's just a bunch of nonsense, right? The little twit is probably too dumb to even cross the street.” John replied, shaking his head.

Audrey rolled her eyes. She joined him on the couch, leaning on his shoulder. Her eyes began to close.

“What was that?” John suddenly bolted.

“What?” Audrey replied, blinking her eyes and yawning.

“It sounded like someone was at the door. I thought I heard a knock.”

”Oh, John, you must be so drunk you’re hearing things. Who in their right mind would come to our house at nearly twelve o’ clock at night on Christmas Eve?” Audrey chuckled silently. But then, she heard it too. The couple exchanged nervous looks.

“It’s probably just some late-night caroler,” Audrey said, giggling nervously.

John nodded, running a tense hand through his ebony locks. But then he froze, his eyes glazed. His heart was pounding. He was sure he had seen the doorknob turn.” What if-”

”No! It’s nothing!” Audrey then yelled, more scared than angry. She knew what he was thinking. “Look, I’ll go to the door and see who it is, alright? Then we can both get over it and move on with our lives.” She pushed herself off the couch and walked to the door.

Carefully, as if her life depended on it, Audrey took a deep breath and maneuvered a slim hand over the doorknob, and it turned. The door blew open, along with a gust of wind and flurries.

“H-hello,” The figure said in the most soulful little voice, his scrawny body clothed in only rags and misery. He had skin like the snow and a mop of unkempt locks of hair that shined in marvel tints of silver and blonde. It was her worst fear realized.

Audrey shivered and gasped, suddenly becoming physically sick to her stomach. She bit her lip, making it bleed, before muttering with a shaky voice, “It can't be you..please..we were just kidding...”

She was on the verge of tears. But who else could it be? There was no mistaking this creature. She suddenly remembered all the stories about this kid, all the rumors and the warnings. Audrey feared she was staring at the devil's child himself.

Gathering her courage, Audrey suddenly became angry. Her hands clenched into fists and she began to yell at him.

“What the fuck do you want?! Go away. So go back to your little hole and leave us alone!” By now, John had signaled to Audrey and made a dash for the kitchen, proceeding to call the cops.

The child stood there, not moving. Stunned, Audrey backed away slowly, before dashing for the living room cupboard and pulling out a pocket knife. She began to reaproach the eerie, motionless boy.

"G-go away I said...I..I mean it!" She said, her voice now shaky. As the child remained still, Audrey then charged for him, her fist forceful with a blade aimed towards the child’s skeletal chest. “Go away you dirty little beggar!” Rage was boiling through her veins as she attempted to kill the late night visitor. Suddenly, she felt something stop her.

“Wait!” The little boy yelled, putting his small hand over the blade as a meager attempt to stop it. Audrey hesitated. Ghost stroked Audrey’s cheek gently. “You’re crying…” He said, frowning. His tiny hand caught her tears.

Audrey’s heart shattered. “I-I..” She had no words. Don't look into his eyes, she thought to herself.

But she couldn't help it. Her eyes suddenly fell into his and she was immediately lost in them. Audrey had looked into the boy's eyes, and as a result her own eyes were opened. She couldn't believe it. They were not the cannibalistic, blood-thirsty red color like everyone had said they would be. They weren’t full of darkness and hate like the village had always feared they would be. They were blue.

His eyes are blue, she thought. Audrey stood frozen, and the knife fell to the icy floor with a shatter. She was numb, yet all she wanted to do was to wrap her arms around the beautiful, crying child and steal him. Just like fate had stolen her baby.

Then the small, ghostly child with the baby blue eyes curled up in Audrey’s arms, and experienced, for the first time in his life, a hug.
“Thank you,” He whispered softly in her ear, his malnourished body in shivers. ”for giving me my Christmas present.”

Then Audrey saw it. All those years of fear and hate, all the rumors; they weren't true. None of it was true. Those weren’t ghosts in his eyes. They were angels.

And as the child started to choke on a series of sickly coughs, he began to crumble away, slowly disappearing into Audrey’s arms. His tiny body shivered in the cold one last time, and he died.

Soon Audrey had fallen onto her knees, sobbing uncontrollably, while holding death raw in her arms. All senses were blurred as all she could hear was the buzzing siren of the cops arriving and her husband, shaking her, begging.

And yet all she could say, as she cried into the broken little body in her arms, was
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”