<< Go Back

Three Wooden Crosses

By David Hall

Order Now!

Chapter 1

1962

The anguished eyes stared vacantly at him through the black mix of sand, salt water, and blood that had formed a mask over the soldier’s face. He reached to grab his canteen so he could provide the young man one last drink, but as he turned, the soldier grabbed his collar with his last bit of strength, pulled him down to his face, and whispered into his ear. The grip became stronger around his neck, and the man could not break free from the soldier’s grasp. He struggled to push himself away, but each time he released himself, the soldier reached out with the other hand. He struggled to stand, but found himself nose to nose with the dying young man. Suddenly, the soldier screamed.

********

With the scream, Matt awoke with a start from his nightmare. His shirt was soaked, and perspiration dripped from his forehead and his palms. There was nothing he could do; he was in the throes of a full-blown panic attack now. Slowly he moved his gaze around his dark bedroom. He was thankful when he saw Max’s understanding eyes looking at him and felt the dog’s reassuring paw being placed on his knee.
The next few minutes were going to be miserable, and Matt did what he could to lessen the impact of the onslaught of darkness. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath through his nose. As he exhaled, he began to recite aloud, “The Lord is my shepherd: I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.”
Matt started to breathe heavier, yet shallower, and he struggled to continue the psalm. It was the only thing that had ever worked to ease the process, but tonight, the attack had started while he was asleep. He had no control over its beginning, which meant he would have little control over its finish. Still, he continued, “He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.”
He was shaking now, and sharp pains moved like pinpricks up and down his arms and legs. Matt wrapped his arms around himself and sat on his bed, pulled up in a little ball. He rocked back and forth while burying his face into his knees. Max laid his head on his paws as he stretched across the floor and fixed his sympathetic eyes on his loving master.
With the next words, came the tears: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.” At first, Matt’s eyes simply filled with glossy moisture, but within seconds, large drops were forming and running down the sides of his face and off the tip of his nose. He tried to control the sadness, but every attempt he made to stop the emotions only sent him spiraling deeper into the abyss. He was gasping for breath through his loud sobbing, and he now yelled the next words of the Shepherd Psalm: “For thou art with me; thy rod and staff they comfort me.”
He was spitting as he yelled the words, and now the sadness was being accompanied by anger. When he stood, his feet hit the cold, hard wood beside his bed with an abrupt thud. Max jumped to his feet and took a couple of steps back. Matt put both his hands to his temples and pulled them backward over his sweat-drenched hair. As he pulled back, he fixed his gaze on the ceiling and yelled with all he could muster, “I said, ‘For thou art with me! Thy rod and staff they comfort me!’ Where is my comfort?”
Weak, he fell to his knees. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the wood in front of him. Then Matt placed his forearms flat on the floor and pushed his forehead into his arms. He breathed in deeply through his mouth, allowing his back to arch, giving his lungs the full ability to expand and receive the surging volume of air. This time, he exhaled slowly through his nose.
Max low-crawled the two feet separating him and Matt and placed himself on Matt’s left side, touching the full length of his master’s prostrated body on the floor. In a barely audible whisper, Matt continued, “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.”
He snickered to himself. Max acknowledged the new sound by raising his head and cocking it to one side. His ears moved up and down independently of each other, making him appear inquisitive and anticipatory for the changing mood. Matt remained on his knees and stretched out on his arms in front of him. He sniffed with nearly every breath and wiped his face against the sleeves of his now-soaked T-shirt. The room remained silent except for Matt’s sniffles and Max’s panting.
Without raising his head, Matt reached over with his left hand and found Max’s left ear. He cupped the ear and scratched gently behind Max’s head. Cautiously, he raised his head and pulled his legs underneath him. Then he slowly turned and rested his back against the bed frame, extending his legs out in front of him. He stretched his neck by turning his head from side to side, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back until it lay flat on the mattress.
Max stepped closer so Matt could reach him better. Matt instinctively reached out with his right hand and cradled Max’s face in both his hands. He picked his head up and placed his forehead on Max’s head and looked into his eyes. Softly, he whispered, “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

Order Now!

<< Go Back