A Dance with a King (Story)

This story was passed on to me by a 17-year-old. I wanted to share it with my readers. ~ ESA

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A Dance with A King 

I sat on my bed, curled up in a ball; my jet black hair masked me and all my melancholy glory. My eyes burned from all the tears that came out, my nose was running so much I gave up sniffling it back in. My lips were chapped; they tasted salty from the tears. My face was sticky from it, but warm from the flow coming out.

I held my arms tightly around my knees; I drew them closer as if they were my last life force.

My boom box played “Oh Darling!” by Plugin Stereo. I cried even more thinking of joyous thoughts, all the happy times we had together.

“She lied!” I cried as the fresh tear flow began. “She lied.”

I buried my face deeper in my dark kneecaps to the point where I started seeing a format of shapes behind my closed eyelids.

Maybe if I squeeze tight enough, I will leave this world. 

“Elizabeth.” A soft voice called. It sounded like bells ringing, it was deep yet comforting.

“Yes?” I said not picking my face up.

“Look at me.” The mysterious voice said.

I was afraid to pick my head up, I didn’t want anyone to see me so broken. But how could someone get in? My door is locked. 

Who is this man? 

I looked up slowly, in front of me, by my room door, stood a glowing figure. He was glowing gold; he was smiling. He looked about five foot, seven, with a smile that made me feel like I could touch the sky if I jumped. He stood still as his eyes assessed me.

Who are you? I thought to myself even though I already had a hunch.

“You know me,” he said warmly. He didn’t move.

“I know you?” I said slowly testing each word. I took my eyes off of him and looked at my bed, studying the floral patterns on it. They swirled, they became pink, the leaves turned green leading into a crème color. 

I know you? But I’ve never seen you a day in my life. Or maybe I have and I just don’t remember; after all, didn’t I read somewhere that the mind does this? Remember things you don’t pay attention too? Hmm . . . 

“I know you,” I said louder now, sitting up and staring at him.

I sniffled.

“You know me,” he said evenly.

“I don’t remember you.”

He shrugged and walked over to my bed; with three strides he was right next to me. I placed my feet on the floor looking at this glowing man. I had a better look at him now; he had shoulder length brown hair that looked soft, the gentlest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. Yet he looked big and muscular. Can a muscular man be gentle? 

I bit my lip.

“Jesus,” I said trying not to sound crazy, but somewhere in me, this fit.

He smiled. 

Unholy everything, this is Jesus! In my room, this is awesome! I felt happiness surge through me. 

 “I need you.” I said quietly. I placed my head back down.

He sat near me, looking at me.

“I need you Jesus, sometimes I feel like you’re not there, like you’re not listening, like you’re busy with others. But that’s okay if you are, I’m sure other people have bigger problems, bigger than mine.” I tried to swallow the bile rising in my throat signaling a new shed of tears. Not in front of Jesus I chastised myself.

“Why not in front of Jesus?” He pushed my hair behind my back so he could get  better look at me.

“Because I don’t want you to see me this way.”

“What way?”

“Unhappy.” I felt the tear roll down my face.

“I have nothing but time, and if I can’t see you this way who can, Elizabeth? Who do you trust more than Me?”

I stayed quiet.

He continued; “I am always here, I will come to those who believe and call upon My name. I am a King, that is correct, but I am also yours. I gave Myself for you; you are precious to Me. I have all the time for you.”

“And what about others?”

“I have time for them too. I am God.” He smiled at me; His eyes twinkled.

It was the most beautiful sight ever. 

“My best friend hates me.”

“Why?” He folded His hands in His lap.

“Because she thinks I’m a slut.” I choked back the tears.

“Cry if you need to; I’m here,” He said tenderly, “Did she call you a slut?”

I laughed. Jesus using the term “slut;” that’s one for the books. 

“No, but she didn’t need to. She thinks every guy she likes, I like as well just because we’re friends, and I think it’s because I’m friends with them and she doesn’t like it. I mean she’s so beautiful, how can she think that I’d do something so vile as to take the one she’s interested in?”

He stayed quiet for a while.

I just looked at my hands.

“Does she know she’s beautiful?” He asked quietly.

“She should.” I bit my nails.

“Yes, but sometimes what you think people know, they don’t really know.”

I looked at him. “So she’s insecure because she doesn’t know she’s beautiful?” I thought about it for a moment. “Well Miranda always did have problems with guys; but this You already know.”

He nodded. “So you see, maybe she’s not angry with you, but jealous because of you.”

“Why?” I looked at Him as if He sprouted a second head.

“See that goes back to what I just said: you are beautiful. I would think you knew it, but you don’t; otherwise you would’ve seen this is the problem.” He placed His hand on my shoulder drawing me closer to Him. 

He smells like a carpenter; like wood and sawdust, but like olive oil and cocoa butter. I inhaled deeply closing my eyes. I’m out of tears to cry, that’s a new one. 

“I want to show you something.” He stood up as I looked at Him confused. He pulled me up gently and wrapped His arms around my waist, with a flash of blinding white light we were in a different place.

It looked like a ballroom, it was round and huge, the white pillars looked like they were Greek, the floors reflected my face perfectly; they were marble with a large locus flower in the middle. The balcony was decorated, it looked ideal for a wedding.

“Are You getting married?” I asked as I looked up at the balcony. I knew we were in Heaven; I didn’t know how, but I guess from the atmosphere, and the way things looked: this had to be Heaven. No way was marble this beautiful; no way could you find pillars as large as the twin towers and perfectly taken care of; the balcony was large as an opera house’s balcony. If this wasn’t Heaven, then this has got to be the closest thing to it.

“I am.” He held His hand out, I walked over to Him. When did my clothes change? I was wearing a puffy white wedding gown it hung loosely off my shoulder, as my hair was pinned up in a princess bun. I wore white gloves like Cinderella; I could hear my heels click on the floor as I walked slowly towards Him.

Music started to play. Where was it coming from? I looked around as He pulled me closer to Him. “Where is this music coming from?”

“Worry yourself with nothing but me right now.” His voice sounded so close, I could lean in and kiss Him, but I met His steady gaze with shaky breaths. Is He trying to dance with me? I can’t dance.

He smiled lovingly.

“And nothing compares to your embrace, light up the world, forever reign.” The lyrics went as He twirled me gently. As my dress twirled with me, He began to pull me closer with one hand on my waist, the other in mine. 

I had one hand on His shoulder and the other in His, we were waltzing. 

I’m dancing, I can’t dance but I’m dancing. How is this possible?

“Anything is possible with God.” He said telepathically.

We moved faster, it was like we were hopping now, as we danced in a slow circle, as the music picked up.

“My heart will sing, no other name, Jesus!” The singer cooed passionately in the song.

My heart sings His name only.

“Oh I run into your arms; I run into your arms; the riches of your love; will always be enough; and nothing compares to your embrace,” the song went.

The song continued to play; we never took our eyes off each other. He tightened His grip; He kissed my neck; I rubbed His cheek. I felt as if this were a fairytale.

“Now you must return.” He said after the song finished and we took our bows.

“I know.” But I was so happy that I didn’t mind.

With the same flash, we were back in my room. He hugged me deeply, and then backed up as He disappeared.

I awoke with a jolt; my room was the same. No sign of Him anywhere. Was that a dream? Was it my imagination, or was it real?

I looked around for some sign that it wasn’t my imagination but actually something real. I got nothing.

I stood up and walked to my closet. When I opened it, I saw the same gloves I wore in the dream, in there.

I smiled to myself.

The song changed; it now played “Pray” by Sanctus Real. I guess He wants me to pray.

I got on my knees, holding the cross between my palms, and began the Lord’s Prayer. Thank you God for sacrificing your son for me and for the whole world.