THE PREY OF THE TERRIBLE
(Isaiah 49:25) 

By Tessa Harvey


    Night was falling and Jack felt hope was dwindling. It was a lonely stretch of coast. Normally Jack loved the sea and the solitude. They were a respite from the pressure  of home and the clamorous demands of school.
    He kept imagining he heard voices calling to him and looked for torchlight along the shore. But there was no light and no one came. The tide was almost fully in, close to the cliff and breaking waves flung spume high in the air, making his perch even more precarious.
    A wind was rising as night fell and the embattled youth felt he was weakening, his fingers becoming numb and losing strength as he clung to the rock face.
    "Please," he whispered. "please help me." Some of the kids at school talked about Jesus. Was he real or just like Santa or the tooth fairy? Make-believe like Peter Pan and the pirates?
    His mind wandered, then a light shone on his face, blinding him so he almost fell. A knotted rope slithered down next to him. His dad's harsh voice: "Tie the rope round you, son, and help me as I pull. You can do it."


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