abortion

Chapter 8: Redeemed on Tucker Street: A Beacon

Fiction By Sarah Liz // 3/4/2017

CHAPTER EIGHT: A Beacon

I chewed on the corner of the pen in my hands and squinted at the print on the pink sheet of paper in front of me. My neat handwriting, filling the blanks on the page, showed signs of my trembling hand.

I sighed and got up.

Ding. Hesitatingly, I tapped the bell on the counter. The secretary’s smiling face appeared.

“All finished there?” At my nod, she went on. “Nicole will be with you shortly.” She smiled again.

“Ah, okay,” I stuttered, faintly.

Redeemed on Tucker Street: Chapter Seven: Two Lines

Fiction By Sarah Liz // 2/13/2017

CHAPTER SEVEN: Two Lines

Nervously, I rung up the single item I had chosen from the shelves at Walmart and hurriedly made my payment at the self-checks. The plastic bag rustled gratingly as I made a quick exit to my car.

The last few days had been torture. If only I knew for sure. If only I was brave enough to know for sure.

I didn’t talk to anyone. No one had to know about this, absolutely no one.

It took an eternity to get to Houston Community College that day. But there was no way I was going to risk doing what I needed to do at work.

Redeemed on Tucker Street: Chapter Six: A Student Again

Fiction By Sarah Liz // 1/31/2017

Disclaimer: The author does not, by recording the actions of the main character, endorse the actions of said character, or any other character in this work.

CHAPTER SIX: A Student Again

You have been approved for the Federal Pell for the school year 2013-2014. Please access your student account to accept Federal Aid.

Allie Holmes. Track: LVN. Class of 2015. Houston Community College.

That felt good.

Hey, it might just be community college, just an LVN, and just an associates’ for now. But it was still nursing school. I was going to be a nurse.

Redeemed on Tucker Street: Chapter Five: University

Fiction By Sarah Liz // 1/27/2017

CHAPTER FIVE: University

I sat on the bench, nervously. I clenched my sweaty palms, as if that would release some of the itchy tension in my veins. Rolling my eyes back slightly, I could see the entirety of the room, crowded with students. My fingers smoothed over my report card, though it was pressed to perfection.

Would the advisor say I was finished? Could I graduate this coming May?

Redeemed on Tucker Street: Chapter Four: A Rainbow in the Rain

Fiction By Sarah Liz // 1/11/2017

If there was one thing about living alone I detested, it was the silence.

It was deafening.

There were days that I would turn on the air conditioner, just to hear it run. I mean, to be honest, one needs air conditioning almost year-round in Texas. That’s if you can afford it.

Redeemed on Tucker Street: Chapter Three: Missing

Fiction By Sarah Liz // 1/10/2017

Mom had been missing. Six days.

It wasn’t exactly unusual. She would sometimes be gone, days at a time. Generally, she would call or something, but I had learned not to expect it.

I guess she had friends she would go out with. She would take a few days off work, and she would never stay home. She’d be in Houston, or close to the border, or whatever.

I’d honestly rather stay out of it.

Redeemed on Tucker Street: Chapter Two: Kenny

An Essay By Sarah Liz // 12/21/2016

In reality, Kenny’s name is Carlos.

Carlos Sandoval.

Not sure where I got started calling him Kenny. I guess I always did like the name, and it just fit. Kenny was short, sharp-featured, and pretty much the only reason I didn’t drop out of school the minute I turned sixteen.

Redeemed on Tucker Street: Chapter One: A Broken Home

Fiction By Sarah Liz // 12/19/2016

(NOTE: some of this is repeat, just want to post chapter by chapter. Had to finish Chapter 1, so here is the entirety of that. Currently working on Chapter 2, so stay tuned.)

A BROKEN HOME

I heard the door slam solidly behind me, and took the stairs two at a time. I dashed through the pouring Gulf Coast rain to the bus stop.

“Hey.” I nodded in the general direction of an older gentleman sitting on the bench, inches from the pouring rain. “You doing okay today?”

Tiny Child

A Poem By Damaris Ann // 1/31/2016

Tiny child, by your parents torn apart,
I wish I could hold you in my arms; not my heart.
Unloved, unprotected, not held by loving hands;
Your demise is cheered on and upheld in this land.

Unloved, unwanted, torn and abused:
Cast aside for selfish pleasure, broken; confused.
They pursued their own lust and chased after their pleasure,
Not facing their sins but removing their treasure.

Unable to live with the guilt of their sin,
They kill, leaving room to do it again.
Deaf to the cries of their tiny child;
They live on, cocky, self-righteous, and wild.

Abortion, Christianity, and William Wilberforce

An Essay By Sarah Liz // 1/15/2016

Hi All! I am a blogger and writer. I am also a homeschool graduate, college graduate (as of May 2016), sister, and daughter. This is one of my recent blog posts. Hope you all enjoy!

--Abortion, Christianity, and William Wilberforce--

You’re probably thinking…”What in the world do all these random things have in common? Oh, okay, well I can see the connection with abortion and Christianity. Okay, and the mess we’re in, obviously. But what about that random guy Wilberforce? Don’t I remember that name from my 10th grade history class?”

Never Regretted

Fiction By Damaris Ann // 11/16/2015

I pulled into the drive and found a spot to park my car. I took the key out of the ignition and put it in my purse. I looked at my hands, palms up. They were shaking and sweating like crazy. I clenched them into fists to steady them and gritted my teeth.
"You can do this," I whispered to myself. "It'll be better this way."

Of the Small

A Poem By little woman // 1/10/2013

This is the land of Freedom and Justice
or is it?
where we swear under God.

Under God we stand
a nation once rose tall
yet if our sins we keep
our nation soon will fall.

Prophets of today
stand up and tell us plain
'a nation who slaughters her children
never more will gain.'

Still we press on forward
"rights" for each and all
yet in the hurry to let each do as he will
we forget the rights of the small.

Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness
the promises America made
among the hustle of correct politics
these promises silently fade.

The Survivor

Fiction By Laura Elizabeth // 2/25/2011

 

 You can also read this on my blog, http://lauraeandrews.blogspot.com

The Survivor

I am the survivor of an abortion. No, my mother did not try to abort me. So why do I say this? Here is why:

Dear Mommy

An Essay By Tori // 11/12/2009

Note: Mairead  wrote an essay of the same topic as this a few days ago...feeling inspired by it I have written something similar. But she had the original idea; not me!!

Dear Mommy,

I'm sorry that I cannot tell you all this in person; but I am very busy at the moment. I am busy growing bigger, growing taller, growing fatter, everyday. I should think you would be proud of this; but why is it so hard for you to keep me here?

The Sick Man

Fiction By Ben // 10/20/2008
The Parable of the Sick Man

A man who for many months had been suffering from an illness went one day to see a doctor. The doctor told him, "this is what you must do: return to your town, find your neighbor, and kill him. Then your disease will subside and you will be able to return to work."

Needle

A Poem By AmandaLC // 5/21/2008

I see the innocent BABY
I smell the BABY’s unseen tears
I watch the woman leave, childless
I feel regret for what I am forced to do
I hear the unheard whimper of a dying BABY
I know what I’m doing, unwillingly
I don’t understand why this happens
I cry for the BABY lost
I wish see would look back to see what a mother she has become
I hate the doctor, the murderer.

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