The Cedarville Review 2020

PROSE | 53 wasn’t so small anymore. His hits hurt now. His screams reverberated through the house. The sound pulsed as a fire alarm does when you’re standing right beside its siren. He was becoming more and more violent. In a flash his spark would light. He would shriek and swing wildly like an that monkey that tore that girls face off. Mom removed herself from the room. She knew that there was nothing she could do to control him when he was like this, and she knew he would only tear her down more if she stayed – so she sought sanctuary in other re- cesses. My father, however, did not. The yelling came quickly. My father’s vengeful reprimand was met by the deafening screams of a boy that didn’t know to ask himself what he had done, or why he couldn’t stop. My mother had left with tears in her eyes. The rest of us wished we had the strength to show our own. Euphoria. A world remade. Everything around me shines, not because it's brand new -- even though it is -- but something deeper than that. It’s like paper in bright sunlight but without any of the pain from a glare. It feels like a lens flare. There are new people and new faces all around me. Old souls in new bodies, all engrossed in this new world, all enthralled with the One that gave it to us. I feel like I could run for miles, lift the mountains, hurdle the moon. "Griffin." It's a voice that is unknown, but somehow it’s still extremely familiar – like I’ve known it my entire life. Nostalgic. I turn to find an unfamil - iar face, but the soul behind it -- I know that soul well. A body I'd only ever imagined. The stiff legs traded for long, strong, nimble ones. Chocolate colored feet that, for the first time in years, can hold weight. Arms that extend as far as they're meant to. The dislocated left hip is gone. The titanium rod that kept his twisted spine frombreaking is gone. A newman stands before me, the only thing that remains are the eyes. The eyes are the same. And the soul.