DITD Chapter 7
Drawn in the Dark
Sunday School had just ended. I crumpled my handout as I walked down the hall, weaving through kids racing to the water fountain. My Armor of God paper slipped from my grip. I scooped it up before anyone could stomp on it.
As I gathered my crumpled handout, the hallway buzzed with noise from classes letting out. Attie’s classroom door opened right then. She peeked with her blue eyes around the corner.
“Attie! I’m right here,” I called.
Her smile spread. “Look what I drew for Mom!”
She held up a picture of a knight. The armor was pink from head to toe, the sword purple, with a puppy off to the side and hearts all around.
“Wow. That’s awesome,” I said.
“Thanks!” She beamed, and we pushed through the small crowd of kids together.
After weaving through the crowd, we made our way past the open doors. Our church was full of older members who’d been there forever. Most of their kids had moved away, but grandkids still showed up on Sundays. That left just two classes for us—older and younger. Attie was old enough to move up, but liked drawing and videos, so she stayed.
We rounded a corner and almost bumped into Mom. She stood with an older woman I didn’t know. The woman’s white curls framed her warm smile, thick glasses nearly covering her face. She smelled of chocolate chip cookies and wore a dress with soft pink flowers.
“There y’all are!” Mom said. “How was Sunday School?”
“It was good,” I said, hanging back.
“Mom, look what I drew!” Attie waved her knight picture.
Mom studied it carefully, “Attie, this is beautiful! I love the puppy. It makes the whole thing come alive.”
Attie glowed.
“You’ve got an artist there,” the older woman said kindly.
“Yes,” Mom said, “Actually, I have two. This is Attie, and this is Carter—he’s the one I mentioned with nightmares.”
I froze.
What? She told her?
My stomach twisted with embarrassment and confusion. Nightmares were private. She wasn’t supposed to tell strangers.
Mom caught my look. “I didn’t give her details. Geraldine was our guest speaker today. She’s writing a book about spiritual warfare in nightmares — invisible battles people sometimes don’t realize they’re in.” She gave a small shrug, but her eyes stayed serious. “I wanted someone who wouldn’t think I was overreacting.”
That made things a little better. Still, the knots in my chest wouldn’t go away.
Geraldine smiled down at me, “I’m writing it for my grandson. He has nightmares, too.”
“He does?” I asked, cautiously.
“Yes. Would you like to meet him?”
Before I could answer, she turned toward the men’s bathroom. A boy about my age walked out, a black notebook in his hand. Dirty-blonde hair. Green eyes, sharp and cautious. Blue button-down shirt tucked into khakis.
“Miles!” Geraldine called, “Come meet someone.”
He crossed the hall slowly, stopping beside her. He looked at me, then back at her.
“This is Carter,” she said, “He goes to church here with his mom and sister.”
Miles’s first words came out blunt: “Where’s your dad?”
“At basic training,” I said.
“Hm.” He nodded as if approving my answer.
Mom broke the pause, “Geraldine, would you two like to join us for lunch? We’re getting pizza. The kids can play arcade games while we talk.”
“That sounds nice,” Geraldine said, “It’ll give Miles a chance to make friends.”
Miles’s mouth thinned. He drew a deep breath, then looked at me.
I gave him a small smile, “There are fun games there. We’ll find something.”