Then we ate and conversation resumed. Only I was silent. The moment was too perfect for words. It was as if Derek and Megan had always been among us. In Dad's mind, they had.
When supper was finished, I volunteered to wash the dishes, but mom turned this offer down, telling me instead to give them a tour of the house. “You don't want them to get lost in our winding passages,” she said, pressing my notebook (which had been deposited on a counter) into my hands.
“We don't have winding passages.”
“Well then, at least show them to their rooms.”
So I did. First we went to Derek's room, which had formerly been Tisha's. It had changed radically. Instead of the pastel colors that Tisha loves, the walls were now dark blue, and there was an unfinished model airplane on the desk, next to an open Bible.
“Like it?” I turned an inquiring look up to our brother.
“Not bad,” he observed, walking over to the desk and examining the airplane. “I think I can get used to it.”
“You'd better!” I closed the door on him and took Megan's hand. “What say we discover your room? I've a feeling it's the next door down.”
The next door was my bedroom, but it too had changed. There was a bunk bed in the middle of the room, and on either side of it, a desk. The desk on the right was mine, and it looked the same as it had that morning. The other I guessed to be Megan's. On it sat a typewriter.
“Where'd you get a typewriter?” I asked, turning raised eyebrows to my sister.
“It's daddy's!” she breathed, rushing over and running her finger wonderingly over the keys.
“Then you have a treasure,” said I, walking over and putting an arm around her shoulder. My eye fell on something that lay beside it. A silver chain attached to a red gem. I picked it up and placed it in Megan's hand. “And this treasure is even greater. His Ankulen, Len Megan.”
Her eyes widened as she clutched it to her chest. “Do you really think so?”
I grinned. “I know so. I'm an Anka, I know an Ankulen when I see one. Have fun. It abides by the same rules I gave you for my Ankulen, so you shouldn't have any problem. Now, if you would please excuse me, I have my own story to write.”
Epilogue
In Which My Life Does Not Return to Normal
THAT was two months ago. I stare at this notebook in awe. Two months ago, I couldn't pin two creative words together to save my life, and now … well, I've filled nearly two notebooks. In only two short months.
Derek and Megan have adjusted quite well to life in reality, and I can hardly remember what it was like without them.
They both have taken great strides in the reading department, and it's only on really difficult names that Derek has to ask us for help with during his morning devotions. Megan has begun typing on her typewriter – she's on it right now, in fact. The stories she's been telling about Anku Jared's imagination have been intriguing, to say the least.
Mom, too, has taken up writing. I was surprised to discover that it was her Alatians and Sunsingers that I first saw after I exhausted my own store of imaginary friends. I won't say anything more about it, though. She will publish her works in time.
Derek says that living in a house full of writing women can be annoying, so he spends much of his time outside, either in the woods, or in the shop with Dad. I think it's good for him.
While I have not physically been in my imagination since the twenty-second of June, I have used my Ankulen quite a bit. All I need to do remember any portion of the adventure is ask the Ankulen to play it out in my head. The only times I might have exaggerated or left something out was the first part and the fight with the Polystoikhedron. I wasn't wearing the Ankulen then, so they weren't burned into its memory.
Chris and Tisha have only had to contact me twice, and I fixed their problems quite quickly.
Personally, I have baby names on my mind – for Erran and Janessa's child. I'm not quite ready to make Chris and Tisha parents. I think I'll give Erran and Janessa a boy … and later I'll give the King and Queen a daughter … and when the pair grows up …
But I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I?
No longer am I the shy fifteen-year-old who clings to the edges of rooms. No longer am I jealous of my beautiful sister. No longer am I scared of pen and paper.
I'm still shy, I'll admit that, but now I have a brother and sister who refuse to let me melt into obscurity. I think I really surprised them that first Sunday. They were used to the me of my imaginary world, and even though I had told them of my shyness …
But they've forced me to make new friends, and now I feel quite at home in the youth group. One girl, I discovered, was an Anka herself, though I wasn't really surprised, since she already has three published books. She was surprised to find that I was one too, but she's already taken me under her wing and has decided to take upon herself the task of teaching Megan and I all the secrets of the writing trade.
She says she'll even help us get published.
She's quite the exuberant person …
Now that I have my imagination back, I've also grown close to my Creator again. I mean, I always knew that he was my sovereign Lord, and that He wanted a personal relationship with me, but part of me held back. Now that I am using the gifts he gave me, there is nothing holding me back.
Mom says that it's the same for her.
If The Giver hadn't told me so, I would never even dare call myself a picture. That's something that only happens in stories. And yet, I have found myself in a story. I am a picture. Not a perfect picture, of course, since my “death” brought total and immediate salvation to my world. We, however, must accept the salvation that God offers us, and it'll be a while before we will be made perfect.
So how about you? Have you accepted that salvation? Whether or not you believe my nice story, the message I have tried to convey is true. Like Tisha and Chris, we have broken rules – we've broken our relationship with God.
He's willing to forgive us, and two thousand years ago, He sent His Son to take our punishment. But even He can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved.
So will you accept his salvation? Will you join the fight against the darkness?
I think I'll end on that note.
ABOUT Jenifer Marie Brown
Jen has no idea that she is a fictional character, nor does Kendra have any intentions of shattering that delusion.
About kendra e. Ardnek
Kendra E. Ardnek, unlike Jen, never lost her imagination as a child, but she considers the possibility dreadful indeed. Like Jen, she lives near a lot of woods, and she does explore it often. She is the eldest of four children, and loves to lead her younger siblings and cousins in imaginative play.
Her Ankulen is an amethyst ring.
She blogs at knittedbygodsplan.blogspot.com, where you can stay up to date with all of her writing endeavors.
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