Only a Foothold

This is a short story that I wrote not long ago. It tells about mans sinful ways, and how easy it is to become comfortable in our sin. Hope you enjoy it. (Thanks to my editor! Without his help this story wouldn't look half as good.)


                                                                                                                          Written by Caleb Painter
                                                               Only a Foothold
I stood in a room, how I had gotten there I didn’t know. The room was square, mirrors adorning all four walls. I walked over to the first one I saw. Not of my own will though it was as if someone else was controlling my feet. The mirror started to show a scene from my life. Not only did it illustrate the scene visually, but it also depicted the smells and sounds. The setting took place in a small kitchen that I had walked into not more than a year ago. My mother sat across the table with a newspaper in her hand and in the other she held a piece of toast smothered in peanut butter and drizzled with honey. “Hey mom” I called, hungrily eyeing her toast “can I go a friends house tonight?” I watched the mirror as the picture of me grabbed a piece of toast and dropped it in the toaster. “Which friend?” my mother questioned, as she took a sip of coffee to wash down her toast. Instead of telling her about the rough party that would take place I simply lied and said, “Oh just Duncan’s. We were just going to watch a movie.” “That’s fine.” My mother said. I then moved to the next mirror, again not of my will. Had I control of myself, I would have gone to the center of the room and covered my eyes as the mirrors played the scenes. My eyes snapped irresistibly to the next mirror, this one shape like a triangle. Again a scene took shape, from just six months ago. I was in the state championship basketball game. My school team, the Falcons, were up by two points. The other team, the Eagles, were passing the ball in bounds. The Eagles’ best player, number twenty-two, got the ball and dribbled up court. He had long blonde hair, always had a mouth guard in, and was wearing a blue sleeve, the color of their team, on his arm. I guarded him as he crossed half court. Perspiration rolled off his forehead and onto the floor. One of his players set a pick for him; however, I went around it and got my hand in his face.
                                       Five…
                                                   Four…
                                                               Three…
                                                                            Two…
                                                                                        He picked up his dribble behind the three point line and shot it. One! The room went totally quiet except for the buzzers wailing that cut through the silence. The ball flew through the air, then hit the front of the rim, and rolled over the hoop to the back of the iron. My heart stopped as the ball sat there, balancing precipitously on the edge for what seemed an eternity. Then the ball slipped through the hoop with a whoosh! The blonde got in my face and pumped his fist while talking trash. Finally I made it to the locker rooms, wading against the mob that had flooded the court. Rage burned in my heart! No, worse than rage, hate consumed my thoughts! I wanted to literally kill number twenty-two. The image faded and my feet dragged me to the next mirror a place I now knew I didn’t want to be. This mirror was in yet another shape, this time an octagon, and faded into another tragic scene. Up to this point, I had remembered all of the last scenes, and wished I hadn’t, but for some reason this one grabbed my attention and wouldn’t let go! I was terrified as the mirror image took shape. It depicted me and some middle school students, leaning up against a brick wall behind the high school. To them, I was the cool high school student. I looked so relaxed and care free. Now I knew why. I was like an idol to them. It was I who had led them astray, it was I who had told them to do something that their parents forbade, and it was I who would tell them to say disrespectful things to their superiors. The image disappeared, and I was forced to move on. Each mirror in the square room was shaped differently, and I was always filled with regret as I stared at them. Once every mirror had showed some sin from the past, I then just stared at one of the walls after I had watched each scene from each mirror.  All the mirrors suddenly shifted into a different word on each wall. The first word: “who.” I turned to the next wall the word there was “am,” and the next “I.” On the last wall was only a “?.” The sentence struck me so hard I could barely breath. “Who am I?” I screamed out, for the first time finding my self capable of speech. “What have I done with my life?!” The mirrors shifted and the wall behind it disappeared completely! The walls started to close in on me, and the room got smaller and smaller. I looked up even the ceiling and floor were solid mirrors. Each playing a scene from my life where I had sinned in some way. I was caught in my own sins. I had let Satan and my sin nature gain a foothold, and they together had built a stronghold! The solid mirrored walls pushed up against me until I couldn‘t breath! I was trapped in my own sin! “No no no!” I screamed as I flew out of bed drenched in sweat, throat parched, and tongue as thick as a mattress. I ran to the sink and guzzled down water, and then sat on my bed and thought for hours about my dream. There is still hope and time to change before I was trapped in my own sin! I knew what I had to do so I got down on my knees and bowed my head.