Chapter 7 Mummy please, let's go

Buried Alive.

(for miracle)

Episode 7️⃣

"Nooooo!!!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, my voice echoing through the desolate landscape. The sound of my own despair was like a slap in the face, jolting me into action. With a surge of adrenaline, I managed to muster the strength to get up, my legs trembling beneath me. I stumbled forward, my eyes fixed on the heap of sand that had swallowed my husband whole. Without hesitation, I dropped to my knees and began digging with my bare hands, the dry sand slipping through my fingers like grains of time.

As I dug, I wailed, the sound of my grief piercing the air. My daughter, sensing my desperation, rushed to my side, her own tears streaming down her face. She tried to stop me, to hold me back from this futile effort, but I pushed her away, again and again, my determination fueled by my desperation. I couldn't bear the thought of leaving him behind, entombed in this sandy grave. The scorching sun beat down on my head, its fiery rays burning into my skin, but I didn't flinch. I kept digging, my hands blistering, my nails breaking, but I couldn't stop. I had to keep digging, had to keep hoping, no matter how futile it seemed.

My daughter's cries grew louder, her pleas to stop more insistent, but I couldn't listen. I was consumed by my mission, driven by a mother's love and a wife's devotion. I dug and I wailed, the sound of my sorrow echoing across the desert, a primal scream that seemed to shake the very foundations of the earth. And yet, even as I dug, I knew it was a lost cause. The sand was too deep, the grave too final. But still I dug, driven by a stubborn refusal to accept the unacceptable, to surrender to the cruel fate that had been dealt us.

"Mummy please, let's go" my daughter begged, her voice trembling with fear and desperation. She spoke through tears, her eyes brimming with a mixture of sadness and terror. She was scared, so scared, to even come close to me, as if my grief and determination were a contagion that might infect her too. She had always been my rock, my confidante, my shelter in the storm, but now she was frightened by the intensity of my emotions, the unyielding resolve that drove me to keep digging.

Her small hands reached out, hesitant and trembling, as if to grasp my arm, to pull me away from the grave, to lead me back to safety. But she couldn't bring herself to touch me, to get too close to the raw pain and anguish that radiated from me like a palpable force. She knew that I was beyond consolation, beyond reason, driven by a primal urge to reclaim what was lost. And so she stood there, frozen in uncertainty, her tears falling like rain, her voice barely above a whisper, "Mummy please, let's go...let's just leave...please."

Her words were a gentle breeze on a stormy day, a soft melody amidst the cacophony of my sorrow. But I couldn't hear her, couldn't listen, couldn't be swayed from my mission. I was deaf to everything except the sound of my own heart breaking, the sound of my own despair. And so I kept digging, kept wailing, kept screaming into the void, while my daughter stood by, helpless and frightened, her tears falling like tears of rain upon the desert sand.

"I'm not leaving here till I dig out my husband," I declared, my voice firm and resolute, as I continued to dig with all my might. The sand flew beneath my fingers, but I didn't stop, couldn't stop, until I had uncovered what was rightfully mine. "O God, show yourself!" I cried out, my eyes fixed on the heavens, my heart pouring out in desperation. "The Lion of Judah, arise and show yourself! The mighty in battle, just as Christ arose on the third day, I believe in your miracles!"

I paused, my chest heaving with exhaustion, my hands blistered and raw, but my spirit unbroken. "Just as Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego made it out of the fire alive, just as Daniel was thrown into the lion's den and emerged without a scratch, arise, O Lord, and let your enemies be scattered!" I pleaded, my voice echoing across the desert landscape. "Dig up this grave, O Jehovah Nissi, and bring out my husband alive, without a scratch on his skin. Arise, Elshadai, and bring my son back to me, wherever he may be."

I dug deeper, the sand piling up around me, but I didn't falter. "Just as it is written in your word, 'You will fight our battle, and we shall hold our peace' in Exodus 14:14, this battle is yours, O Lord. I can't fight it alone. Let these people know that you sent us here; we didn't send ourselves." I lamented, my tears falling like rain upon the sand. I dug and I prayed, my heart crying out for a miracle, for a sign, for a glimpse of the divine.

How deep could I dig? How long could I keep this up? I didn't know, but I couldn't stop now. I had to keep digging, had to keep believing, had to keep praying. For in the depths of this grave, I knew my husband's body lay, and in the depths of my heart, I knew God's power could raise him up again.

My daughter, with a determination that belied her fragile frame, managed to stagger forward once more, her eyes brimming with tears, her face etched with grief. She embraced me with a tight hug, the kind that wrapped around my soul, squeezing out the last vestiges of strength I possessed. I couldn't resist the warmth of her embrace, the comfort of her presence, and so I succumbed, resting my weary head on her shoulder. Together, we wailed, our sobs echoing across the desert landscape, a haunting melody of sorrow and despair.

As the night wore on, the darkness deepened, but God, in His infinite mercy, sent us a beacon of light, a radiant full moon that illuminated the desolate terrain. Its silvery glow transformed the scene, casting an ethereal light that made the surroundings appear almost serene, like a tranquil morning scene. Yet, despite the peaceful ambiance, my heart remained heavy, my spirit still torn asunder by the loss of my beloved husband.

I couldn't bring myself to leave him there, alone and abandoned, his body entombed in the cold, unforgiving sand. The thought of departing without him was anathema, a betrayal of the vows we had exchanged, the love we had shared, the life we had built together. And so, I remained, frozen in grief, my daughter's arms still wrapped around me, our tears still flowing, our hearts still shattered, as the moon continued its gentle vigil, a constant reminder of the beauty and wonder that still existed, even in the darkest of times.

And then, suddenly, we were alerted by the sound of footsteps echoing through the stillness of the desert night. We both looked up, our heads jerking in unison, our eyes scanning the horizon for the source of the noise. And then, we saw her - Layla, her figure emerging from the darkness, her footsteps growing louder with each approaching step. She was panting heavily, her chest heaving with exertion, as if she had been running for some time. As she drew closer, her eyes fixed on us with a mixture of concern and urgency, her gaze darting between my daughter and me.

Layla's face was etched with worry, her brow furrowed in a deep frown, her lips pressed together in a determined line. She stumbled slightly as she reached us, her legs trembling beneath her, and fell to the ground, her hands scraping against the rough sand. But she quickly regained her footing, her eyes never leaving ours, and began to look around, her gaze sweeping the area with a sense of purpose. Her breathing was labored, her chest rising and falling rapidly, as if she had been running for her life. And yet, despite her evident exhaustion, her eyes shone with a fierce determination, a sense of resolve that seemed to drive her forward, even in the face of overwhelming adversity.

"What is it? What's wrong? At this time?" I asked, my voice laced with a mix of exhaustion, desperation, and curiosity. I popped my red and swollen eyes, which felt like they were burning from the constant stream of tears, and gazed at Layla with a pleading expression. My eyes were bloodshot, my vision blurry, and my head throbbed with a dull ache, but I forced myself to focus on the urgency etched on Layla's face. "What's happened now?" I pressed, my voice cracking with emotion, my throat constricted with anxiety. "Can't you see we're in the middle of a crisis here?" I gestured to the grave, to my daughter's tear-stained face, to the desolate landscape that seemed to stretch on forever. "What could possibly be so important that you'd come running to us at this hour, in this state?" I demanded, my words tumbling out in a rush, my mind racing with worst-case scenarios and fears.

"Ma!... Ma!!... " Layla called out in a state of urgency, her voice rising to a near-shriek as she exclaimed my name. She was still looking around, her eyes darting wildly in every direction, as if searching for something or someone. Her chest was heaving, her breathing labored, and her face was flushed with exertion. She had clearly been running, and running hard, to reach us in such a state of distress.

As she called out to me, her voice was laced with a sense of desperation, a hint of fear that sent a shiver down my spine. "Ma!... Ma!!... " she repeated, her words tumbling out in a rush, as if she couldn't get them out fast enough. Her eyes locked onto mine, and I saw a flicker of something there, something that made my heart race and my mind spin with possibilities. What was it? What had happened? Why was she looking at me like that?

Layla's gaze never wavered, her eyes holding mine with an intensity that was almost palpable. She took a step closer, her hand extended, as if beckoning me to come, to follow her, to leave this place behind. And yet, she didn't move, didn't take another step, just stood there, frozen in place, her chest heaving, her eyes pleading. It was as if she was waiting for something, or someone, and I couldn't shake the feeling that our lives were about to change forever.

"Talk to me!!! " I yelled.

"Ma, the king, his men are already on their way here," Layla announced, her words spilling out in a rush, as if she couldn't contain the urgency of the message. "He said he didn't send anyone here to tell the guards who dug the grave not to bury you people alongside," she continued, her eyes wide with fear, her voice trembling with emotion. "As I speak, they are on their way here to bury you and Aunty," she finished, her words hanging in the air like a death sentence.

My jaw dropped in awe, my mind reeling with the implications of what Layla was saying. The king's men, coming for us, to bury us alive? It was a horror beyond comprehension, a nightmare made real. I felt a cold dread creeping up my spine, my heart racing with fear, as I struggled to process the enormity of the situation. How could this be happening? What had we done to deserve such a fate? And what could we do to escape it?

Layla's words seemed to echo through the desert landscape, a haunting refrain that lingered long after she finished speaking. I felt like I was trapped in a living hell, with no escape from the clutches of the king's men. My daughter's hand tightened around mine, a small gesture of comfort in the face of overwhelming terror. But even her presence couldn't calm the storm raging inside me, the fear and panic that threatened to consume me whole.

The king, in his distant palace, surrounded by opulence and luxury, had somehow learned of our plight, of the grave that had been dug for us, of the fate that had been intended for us. And yet, instead of showing mercy, instead of offering a reprieve, he had chosen to condemn us further, to seal our fate with an iron fist. He had instructed the guards, those same guards who had stood by and watched as we were left to die, to find us, to hunt us down, and to bury us, to ensure that we would never escape, never flee, never live to tell the tale.

The thought sent a chill down my spine, a cold dread that seeped into my very bones. The king's men, coming for us, to silence us forever, to erase us from the face of the earth. It was a fate worse than death itself, a fate that filled me with a sense of desperation, of hopelessness, of despair. And yet, even in the face of such terror, I knew I couldn't give up, couldn't surrender, couldn't let the king's men take us without a fight. I looked at my daughter, at Layla, and knew that we had to keep fighting, had to keep struggling, had to keep hoping, no matter how slim the chance of escape may seem.

And then, like a ominous whisper, we started to hear voices from afar, the sound of footsteps echoing through the desert landscape, growing louder with each passing moment. The voices were indistinct, but the intent was clear - they were coming for us, the king's men, with their sinister purpose. My daughter, sensing the danger, suggested we run away from there, that we flee into the darkness, and escape the clutches of our pursuers. But I knew it was futile, that we couldn't outrun the king's men, that they would hunt us down, no matter where we went.

My heart raced with fear, my mind racing with thoughts of escape, of evasion, of survival. But I knew it was a lost cause, that we were trapped, that the king's men had us surrounded. I looked at my daughter, at Layla, and knew that we had to face this together, that we had to stand strong, no matter what lay ahead. And so, we waited, frozen in terror, as the voices grew louder, as the footsteps drew closer, as the king's men closed in on us, their sinister intentions clear.

"Never!" I declared, my voice firm and resolute, as I gazed at my daughter with a determination that bordered on defiance. "This is the time for God to prove Himself," I continued, my words dripping with conviction. "If He's truly alive and on His throne, then He should prove Himself. We came here to spread His word, to share the message of love and hope, but look how we are being treated instead. We're being hunted, persecuted, and left to die in this desolate place. If God is truly a God of justice, of mercy, and of love, then He must intervene now. He must show His power, His might, and His grace. We've been faithful, we've been obedient, and we've been true to our calling. Now it's time for God to be true to His promises."

My words hung in the air, a challenge to the heavens, a cry for divine intervention. I knew it was a bold statement, a risky declaration, but I couldn't help myself. I was desperate, I was desperate for a miracle, for a sign, for a glimpse of God's presence in this dark and forsaken place. And so, I stood there, my heart pounding, my soul searching, my spirit yearning for a response, for a answer, for a proof that God was indeed alive, and that He cared.

"Ehen, there they are. Arrest them and dig a grave for both of them" One of the elders who followed them back there said pointing at us.

"Isn't that Layla? Do you want to be buried alongside? " The man thundered now pointing at Layla.

"If that's what the living God wants, then so be it," she said, her voice steady and resolute, her words echoing through the desert landscape like a challenge to the heavens. The unexpected response sent a shockwave through the gathering, leaving everyone present in stunned silence. The king's men, the elders, and even my daughter, all stood frozen, their eyes fixed on Layla with a mix of disbelief, admiration, and trepidation.

Her words were a declaration of surrender, a testament to her unwavering faith, and a defiance of the fate that had been ordained for us. In that moment, Layla's resolve seemed unshakeable, her trust in the divine plan unbreakable. It was as if she had embraced the inevitable, and in doing so, had found a sense of peace, a sense of purpose, and a sense of freedom.

The air was heavy with tension, the weight of our predicament pressing down upon us like a physical force. Yet, in Layla's words, I heard a glimmer of hope, a whisper of redemption, and a promise of deliverance. And so, I stood there, my heart pounding, my soul searching, and my spirit yearning, waiting to see how this drama would unfold, and how the living God would respond to Layla's courageous declaration.

"Leave there my friend! I must report you to your parents, because I don't understand the kind of relationship you have with these people," another elder exclaimed, his voice laced with a mix of confusion, concern, and disapproval. His words were a clear indication that he had been watching Layla's interactions with us, and had found them perplexing, to say the least.

"I don't know what kind of hold they have on you, but I won't stand by and watch you throw your life away," he continued, his tone stern and paternal. "You're a young girl, with your whole life ahead of you, and yet you're entangled with these...these...people," he spat, his disdain for us evident in his voice.

"I'm going to make sure your parents know about this, and they'll put a stop to it, mark my words," he threatened, his eyes blazing with determination. "You deserve better than to be mixed up with this bunch, and I won't rest until you're safe and sound, back in the arms of your loved ones, where you belong." His words were a clear warning, a warning that we were seen as a bad influence, and that Layla's association with us would not be tolerated.

And then, in a sudden and ominous turn of events, two guards approached us, their shovels at the ready, their faces stern and unyielding. But just as they were about to reach us, a ring of fire burst into existence, encircling the three of us in a blaze of orange and yellow flames. The guards, taken aback by this unexpected development, quickly retreated, their faces pale and frightened.

Some of the onlookers, equally startled, turned and ran away from the scene, their footsteps echoing through the desert landscape as they fled in terror. But others, their curiosity piqued, remained behind, their eyes fixed on the spectacle before them. They stood with folded arms and mouths agape, their faces a picture of shock and amazement, as they struggled to comprehend the sudden appearance of the fiery ring.

The flames danced and crackled, casting flickering shadows on the surrounding sand, as if beckoning us towards some unknown fate. The air was filled with the acrid smell of smoke and burning sand, and the heat emanating from the fire was palpable, making our skin prickle with unease. Yet, despite the danger and uncertainty of our situation, we stood frozen, mesmerized by the eerie beauty of the ring of fire, and the mysterious power that had summoned it into being.

Layla, my daughter, and I stood in the ring of fire, our eyes scanning the horizon, searching for answers. The flames danced around us, their warmth and light enveloping us in a surreal embrace. None of us could fathom where this inferno had originated, but I knew deep within my soul that our God had intervened. The sudden appearance of the fire was no mere coincidence; it was a manifestation of His power, a reminder of His presence.

As I gazed into the flames, memories of the ancient stories flooded my mind. I recalled the tales of our ancestors, who had traversed the desert wilderness, guided by the pillar of cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night. And now, in this moment of peril, our God had once again revealed Himself, summoning the very same pillar of fire to encircle and protect us.

The fire crackled and roared, its golden tongues licking the air, as if proclaiming the majesty of our Creator. I felt a sense of awe and reverence wash over me, mingled with a deep gratitude for His unwavering care. In this ring of fire, we stood safe, shielded from the harm that had threatened to consume us. And I knew that as long as we remained within its radiant boundaries, no evil could touch us, for we were under the watchful eye of our Almighty God.

The guards, who had initially approached us with shovels in hand, now stood frozen in place, their mouths agape, their eyes fixed on the spectacle before them. For several minutes, they remained motionless, as if transfixed by the ring of fire and the divine power it represented. Then, one by one, they began to disappear into the darkness, their footsteps echoing through the desert night, until the last guard vanished from sight.

The elders, who had been watching the scene unfold, stood still, their faces etched with shock and disbelief. They seemed unable to comprehend the sudden turn of events, the miraculous intervention that had saved us from their wrath. Their eyes remained fixed on us, their gazes a mixture of fear, awe, and reverence. Some of them whispered among themselves, their voices barely audible, as they struggled to make sense of the divine manifestation they had just witnessed. Others simply stood in stunned silence, their minds reeling with the implications of what they had seen. The ring of fire continued to burn, a beacon of hope and protection, as we stood at its center, surrounded by the stunned onlookers.

"What is this?" they asked each other in hushed tones, their voices barely audible over the crackling of the flames. They couldn't tear their eyes away from the spectacle before them, their gazes fixed on the ring of fire that encircled us. It was as if they were mesmerized by the sheer power and majesty of the divine intervention.

But as they stood there, frozen in awe and wonder, a sudden fear seemed to grip them. They exchanged nervous glances, their eyes wide with apprehension, and then, without a word, they turned and fled. They disappeared into the darkness, running after each other like children fleeing from something terrifying. The sound of their footsteps echoed through the desert night, growing fainter and fainter until they vanished into the distance.

And as soon as they left, the fire went out. The flames that had danced and crackled just moments before, suddenly dwindled and died, leaving behind only a faint scent of smoke and a lingering sense of wonder. The suddenness of its departure was as striking as its arrival, leaving us standing in a silence that was both peaceful and profound. The ring of fire may have gone, but its impact would stay with us forever, a reminder of the divine power that had protected us in our hour of need.

"Ma, we need to get out of here," Layla said, her voice laced with a sense of urgency, as she gazed around at the desolate landscape. Her eyes scanned the horizon, taking in the endless expanse of sand and rock, the darkness of the night sky above, and the eerie silence that had fallen over the place. "This place feels wrong, Ma. The fire may have gone, but I can still feel the weight of their hatred and fear. We can't stay here any longer."

She turned to me, her eyes pleading, her face etched with concern. "We need to find a safe place, Ma. Somewhere we can be free from all this." She gestured to the spot where the guards and elders had stood, her hand waving towards the emptiness that now surrounded us. "We can't keep living in fear, always looking over our shoulders, waiting for them to come for us again. We need to find a way out of this place, Ma. A way to start anew, to leave all this behind us."

Her words struck a chord deep within me. I knew she was right. We couldn't stay here, not after all that had happened. The fire may have protected us, but it wasn't a permanent solution. We needed to find a way to escape, to find a place where we could live in peace, without fear of persecution or harm. I nodded, my heart heavy with the weight of our situation, but determined to find a way forward, to find a safe haven for my daughter and myself.

"Not without my husband," I said, my voice cracking with emotion, as a fresh wave of tears burst forth from my eyes. The thought of leaving this place, of escaping the danger and the fear, was tantalizing, but the idea of doing so without my beloved husband by my side was unbearable. I couldn't imagine starting anew, building a new life, without the man who had been my rock, my partner, and my best friend.

The memory of his warm smile, his gentle touch, and his comforting embrace flooded my mind, and I felt a pang of grief so sharp it took my breath away. I had thought I had cried out all my tears, but here I was, weeping again, my body shaking with sobs. Layla rushed to my side, her arms encircling me in a tight hug, as she tried to comfort me. "Ma, please, we have to go," she whispered, her voice trembling with urgency, but I couldn't bear the thought of leaving him behind.

My husband, my love, my everything – how could I possibly move on without him? The pain of his absence was still so raw, so overwhelming, that the idea of starting a new life without him felt like a betrayal. I knew Layla was right, we had to escape, but my heart was heavy with grief, and my soul was torn apart by the thought of leaving him behind, of leaving behind the memories we had made, the life we had built together.

"Mom, please, this is the chance God gave us to escape from here," my daughter implored, her voice filled with a sense of urgency and hope. "Didn't you see the fire He sent to stop them from burying us alive? It was a miracle, Ma! A clear sign that God is with us, and He wants us to leave this place behind. It wouldn't be wise to remain here, waiting for another opportunity for them to harm us. We have to trust in God's plan and take this chance to escape."

She paused, her eyes shining with conviction, as she grasped my hands in hers. "I believe God will perform His wonders, Ma. He will guide us and protect us on our journey. We just have to have faith and trust in Him. Let's not miss this opportunity, Ma. Let's leave here and start anew. We can build a new life, free from fear and persecution. We can find happiness again, Ma. Please, let's just leave."

Her words were like a balm to my soul, soothing my grief and comforting my heart. I knew she was right; we had to trust in God's plan and take this chance to escape. The fire that had encircled us was a clear sign of His protection and love. I took a deep breath, and with a newfound sense of determination, I nodded my head. "You're right, Layla. Let's leave here and start anew. We'll trust in God's wonders and guidance." Together, we held each other tight, ready to face the unknown, but with faith in our hearts.

"And how do we intend to do that?" I asked, my mind racing with the practicalities of our escape. "Without the car?" I quizzed, my eyes narrowing as I thought about the vast expanse of desert that lay between us and freedom. "We can't just walk out of here, Layla. We need a plan, a way to get to safety without being detected."

I thought about the guards, the elders, and the others who would surely be searching for us. We couldn't just stroll out of the compound and expect to go unnoticed. We needed a vehicle, a disguise, a distraction – something to give us an edge. But what?

Layla's face was set in determination, her jaw clenched in resolve. "We'll figure it out, Ma," she said, her voice firm. "We always do. We'll find a way to get out of here, together." Her words were a reminder of our resilience, our ability to adapt and overcome. But as I looked around at the desolate landscape, I couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty that lingered in my heart. How would we really manage to escape? And what lay ahead for us, once we finally broke free.

"God will make a way," she said, her voice filled with a deep conviction and faith. "He always does, Ma. When we think all hope is lost, He shows us a path forward. When we're stuck, He clears a way. When we're weak, He gives us strength. We just have to trust in Him, and have faith that He will see us through."

Her words were like a gentle breeze on a summer day, soothing my frazzled nerves and calming my anxious heart. I knew she was right, of course. I had seen it time and time again in my life - God's providence, His guidance, His unwavering love. But in the midst of turmoil, it's easy to forget, to doubt, to fear. Layla's reminder was a balm to my soul, a reminder that God is always working, always guiding, always providing.

I took a deep breath, feeling a sense of peace settle over me. "You're right, Layla," I said, my voice filled with newfound hope. "God will make a way. He always does. And we'll trust in Him, together." I smiled, feeling a sense of determination rise up within me. We would get through this, together. We would find a way out, together. And God would be our guide, every step of the way.

To be continued.