Wolf Days

They called it the Wolf Days. It was the two weeks of the year when the days were short and the dark reigned. Snow would accumulate and the days could be freezing cold. Not that I bothered. I had been roaming the region a month. I knew most of the people fairly well by now. It was a small and close knit society. The area was former Indian territory. The small ridge to the west of the little town had been a sacrificial site to the gods. In those times Indians from a wide area had gathered for the annual ceremonies.

The young generation was more or less oblivious to what had taken place on that hill. None of the older people talked much about it either. Fifty years had passed since the last time there had been any activity among the pine trees. Then a devoted group had tried to rekindle the old traditions. Blood had been spilled and most of those involved were still languishing in jail. Their attempt to recreate the old mystery sect had of course occurred during the Wolf days. I had been one of those who had witnessed the mess they had caused.

The legend had it that it was during those weeks that the wolves assumed human shape and mingled with the native Indians. The wolves abducted small children who they intended to raise as their own. The weakest ones would become food for the perpetually hungry wolves. The Indians came to believe that the wolves’ behavior was induced by evil spirits. They had thus initiated rituals which they believed would mitigate the spirits. Now things were stirring again, and only a few struggled against what might become a new era in the district’s rather dull history. I was there to overview everything, and take care of the troublemakers.

I had carefully made my preparations for the mission I was to undertake . My six knives were sharpened. Each of them had a unique elaborate pattern carved in the handles. I knew every one of them intimately. I knew how they felt in my hand. I knew how they balanced in my palm, and I had tossed them thousands of times until I could hit a target with the most astounding precision. No wonder I had been commissioned the task. I was after all one of the most experienced, and had a long record of handling possible trouble very efficiently.

Late evening would provide the perfect timing. Most people would be tired after a long day and their guard would be down. Many years in the business had provided me with the necessary insight in when to strike. The person I had appointed my first victim had annoyed me immensely since my arrival. I hated everything he represented, and it would be a pure joy to cripple him. The thought made me feel elevated, and gave my existence a sense of purpose.

The moon was full, the air was crisp, and it was quiet inside their house. The kids were sleeping. He was reading, and his wife was down in the basement folding laundry. Not that it would have mattered if they were together. I would have accomplished my mission without any hesitation anyway. Circumstances couldn’t stop me now. My favorite knife was lying steadily in my palm. I wasn’t nervous. I believed this would be as easy as usual. Most of them were ignorant of the truth. As I entered the room I quietly positioned myself in front of him. He apparently didn’t recognize my presence.

The knife’s name was Condemnation. I tossed it with all my might aiming at his heart. To my astonishment the knife hit something resembling an invisible wall, and fell to the floor without doing any harm to the man in the chair. Then he opened his mouth and the power of the word he uttered hit me with a force prior unknown to me. My other knives mystically dissolved, and I stumbled backwards shaken by the impact. Then he said it again, and in an instant my hands and feet were in chains, and I knew I was damned.

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8 Responses to Wolf Days

  1. John Craig says:

    Nice change of pace and style Ole, I enjoyed it, thank you. Yes, the stealthy, creeping, subtle/devilish and sudden nature and knifing of condemnation is always aimed at the heart (which we are to guard above all else, for it is the wellspring of life, Prov 4:23).

    When on occasion it pierces through, its results are devastating, debilitating, utterly paralyzing and ‘clogging of sorts. The ‘springs’ are shut off and the life(blood) ceases to flow for a season until the damming arrows are gracefully, mercifully dislodged from their intended target (our hearts) and the healing balm (Christ) is re-applied. The arteries/branches/roots from the One Tree of Life (Christ in our hearts) are re-opened and flowing once again, giving ‘life to the land’. Fortunately, this ‘river of life’, these ‘living waters’ that spring UP from our hearts/belly’s can never be permanently, completely stopped/dammed up (for out of your belly SHALL FLOW rivers of living waters) and ‘when the enemy comes in, LIKE A FLOOD the Lord will lift UP a standard against him’ (Is 59:19). Notice the comma placement in that last verse, the flood waters of God’s spirit will always ‘overflow’ into our hearts once again and drown out and wash away those ‘arrows of accusation’ carrying them far downstream, washing them out and unclogging our Artery (life springs) once again.

  2. Ole Henrik says:

    Wow, John! You are such an artist with words and you know the truth! Your comment is pure and simply awesome! Thanks for sharing!

  3. cindi estep says:

    No weapon formed against us can prosper…..His works are destroyed!!! There is therefore Now no condemnation for us!!! I read this a while back but I believe I liked more this time around!! Thanks Ole!

  4. Fred Pruitt says:

    Whoa, dude! This is different! I LIKE!

    Now you are being the truth. You can express it from every angle, from every point of view.

    From the vantage which is not an observation of something outside you but a living reality, you speak spirit and life. It is so intimate I cannot describe it. One cannot describe “be” or “are” or “is.”

  5. Patty Musick says:

    I am totally drawn in…I love it! I was expecting to see that this was an excerpt from a book and I was ready to read it. Wonderful Ole! Sometimes I can’t help feeling condemnation but I can say I am not condemned and despite appearances or what I feel that is rock bottom truth. It is hard sometimes to see through but then I think my faith is really God’s so it’s all ok. I hear that from others too and it is so good to hear and refreshing. I love it when folk put everything on Him because it encourages me so much.

  6. Ole Henrik says:

    Hi Patty! Glad you liked my attempt at writing fiction. I have to admit that there are moments when I have to struggle with condemnation as well. Situations and people figuratively speaking scream at me that I am not perfect in Christ and that I have sides which isn’t very Christ like. But , as you say: The truth is that we are Christ in our forms and we are expressions of Him both in the negative and the positive. I am very relieved that I am not a slave of condemnation anymore. I agree wholeheartedly with you that it is very encouraging to put everything on Him. Much love to you this day!

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