My Sin Is Bigger Than Your Sin!

[chibiphonebooth]

this is a nonfiction creative writing assignment i wrote for my creative writing class.

yes, this acutally happened. XD
i hope you enjoy it!


Savannah
Creative Writing


MY SIN IS BIGGER THAN YOUR SIN!


It was a somber Good Friday service. The only sound that resonated throughout the large Nave was the whimpers and sobs of woman and men. Tears coated the forest green chairs, men and woman alike hung their heads, or buried their faces in their hands. The occasional whisper of prayers could be heard here and there. Hands folded, heads bowed, backs hunched- it was all the same scene with each person. Their sins were hard on them, and bubbled up throughout each person, only causing more tears.

There, in the center of the stage, towards the front of the Nave, stood a large, wooden cross. The continuous grain of the mahogany wood, or maybe it was oak, was interrupted by pre-drilled holes; small, dark, and deep. A woven basket stood in front of it, filled to the brim with old, silver nails. The light from the sun reflected off of them, making them glisten- almost stand out. Hammers, too, were also laid out, their rusted heads all faced in the same direction- towards the nails. Did the nails know of their impending doom? That they would be used as metaphors, driven into the pre-drilled holes of the dark brown wood? That they represented people’s sins? The sins that nailed Jesus to the Cross? The same sins that he died for? Were they aware of how much this meant to people? How much meaning was behind the small action of lightly hammering in this nail?
Men and women alike stood in a line in front of the large cross. One at a time, they stepped forward, their cheeks moist from sorrow- as they delicately hammered their sins into this cross. Solemn and contemplating they walked away, only to return to where they sat, and resume the same position they were in before. Hunched back, face in their wet hands.

My father and mother stood in line, solemn too, feeling the weight of their sins weighing them down. The one difference, though, from my father and the rest of the congregation- was he was a carpenter. Ok, maybe there may have been other carpenters- but maybe they were too… quiet to show it. He was proud of it. He enjoyed being a carpenter. Of course he felt a one up above everyone, as does everyone else when something that they are good at comes across their path. Hammering a nail into a pre-drilled hole was going against everything in carpentry soul. I am sure everyone has felt that way at some point or another. Today was the day with my father.

Upon seeing the nails, and the hammer, and the fresh cut wood- he smiled inside. The person in front of him hammered their nail daintily into the pre-drilled hole. Same with the person before them. But no. Not my father. Who was he to hammer carefully into a hole someone already made? He was a carpenter. No. He was going to do this with one swing of the hammer. As his turn came, he picked up the familiar instrument and held it in his hand. He knew every contour and nitch of the hammer and nail- it was his home. He took the nail and placed it on a bare piece of wood- nowhere near an empty hole that the nail was supposed to belong. He steadied the nail, raised his arm, and BANG!
Into the hard wood went his nail, with one drive of the hammer- it was deep into the skin of the wood. But what he didn’t anticipate was the accompanying explosion.

Naked and out of place, everybody else’s nails fell to the floor, the sound of multiple metal objects hitting stone made everyone look up. My father stood there in a puddle of sins, hammer in one hand, his nail deep into the cross, the once almost filled holes, now empty. People in line scurried about, confused and unsure on how to react, or what to do. Should we pick up other people’s sins? Are we allowed to hammer other people’s sins to the cross? Did this mean that his sin is so immense and great, that everyone else’s disappears in comparison? Are our sins rejected from the cross? One could imagine what sort of questions and thoughts appeared in people’s minds. Surely it was no job of the priest and deacon to pick up the sins of the congregation and hammer them to the cross. What a predicament!

As it quieted down, my father walked off, quite embarrassed- while my mother stood in line, trying to contain her laughter. She was laughing so hard, her shoulders were moving up and down. Others in line looked at her and smiled sadly. Oh, how upset she was! Poor thing, such repentance of sin. Au contraire, it was quite the opposite.

Not knowing what to do, everyone came to the conclusion to act like nothing ever happened, and just go along and continue the service. My father and mother left the service once it was concluded, and continued to laugh about it all the way home. To this day, my mother refuses to let my father go unnoticed to how big his sins are.

[Kawaiikneko]

XDDD That's hilarious! Very well written ^^

So this really happened?

[chibiphonebooth]

hahhaha yeah it really happened. XD


hahahah!