The Line

This is another short story that I wrote today :).

The Line

For years there has been this line dividing the land. 

Fear.  We are in fear of crossing.  Crossing the line.  Crossing not just with our legs, but

with our hearts, minds, and souls.  Fear of being different.  Fear of not being like

everyone else.  Fear of standing out.  Fear of losing normality. 

What is normal?  Is normal doing what everyone else does? Is what everyone else does

normal?  Is there even such a thing as normal? Why do we all want to be alike, when

we all were made so differently?

The fear is greater still.  The fear of getting laughed at is so great, that we go out of our

way to be "normal." Who decides what normal is?  Why are we so afraid?  Do we care

what people think about us so much, that we will destroy our uniqueness?

The World.  It is full of sin, hatred, and people who strive their whole lives only to earn

what will not last.  Being normal.  Is it worth the work?  It's like working your whole life

for an ice cream cone that will melt as soon as the clouds go away, and the Son returns.

One day, everyone stood at the line.  Kids were making it a joke, saying, "Hey, who

wants to cross the line? I sure don't.  We have much more fun over here.  Anyone who

crosses the line is a loser.  Everyone knows that."

The kids laughed at the joke.  I laughed, not because it was funny, but because

everyone else laughed at it.  I was caught up in the normality as well.  My best friend

was sitting beside me.  I immediately stopped laughing when I saw his face.  He had a

unusually determined look.  I heard him whisper, "Lord, give me the strength," under his

breath.  He then took his arms, and began to pulI himself across the ground. All the

joking and talking ceased as everyone watched him drag his limp body across that line.

No one could believe that he crossed it.  Not one person had crossed that line in years.  

You could hardly tell that the line was there anymore, for it had been overgrown with

weeds, thorn bushes, and trash.

I was suddenly overwhelmed with emotions of all kinds.  I didn't know what to think.  I

was so proud to be the friend of someone who had the guts to cross that line.  But at the

same time, I was humbled to my knees.  Why hadn't I crossed the line with him? Why is

it that all of us healthy people were to afraid to cross, and someone who couldn't even

walk, had more strength?

While I was kneeling on the ground, in tears, everyone else had burst out in laughter,

thinking that this was some kind of joke.  I was infuriated.  How could they do this? 

It was at that point that I looked across the line.  I saw my friend on the other side flash

me one of his famous smiles.  I closed my eyes, took one step, and before I knew it, I

had crossed that line as well.  The word normal no longer existed in my vocabulary.