Lauren and Mikaela--identical twins living on opposite coasts--blog about the story of life and their adventures in faith.


Precious of the Watched

Hurrying down the crowded, mud-caked street, the lass shuddered, pulling her finely-woven cape closer ‘round. Seized with a sudden fear, her hand again slid frantically to the hidden pocket of her gown, where the crumbling touch of parchment breathed assurance to her fingertips and sent a sigh of relief to her lips. It was safe. As she cast yet another apprehensive look about her, she was haunted by the starving, desperate faces of those who lined the street, or peered cautiously from the looming stone abodes. Every day, those once-grand monuments dissolved a little more into the black mist, surrendering greater spaces to the growing shadows. Every week, the eyes of the people grew a little duller, bespeaking their lives of death. Every month, the teeming by-ways grew a little closer and a little darker, sending chills of hopelessness to the very bone.

The girl shivered. After all, she knew their plight – had she not once been amongst the Watchers? Until that glorious day when everything had changed…she fingered the rumpled paper again as an overwhelming peace warmed her. Now, she was the Watched. That magnificent Word! The moment she had accepted it, life as she knew it ended, freeing her of the town that was slowly, unconsciously, dying from blackest despair. Reaching the castle gates, she turned once more to look upon the Watchers, and fought a lump in her throat as she spoke the parchment’s Word to the gatekeeper. “Why?” She wondered, as she entered the sun-soaked land beyond the gateway, “Why does He not give them all a parchment?”

Clear as crystal, the remembrance of her rescue sprang to mind. She remembered crowding around a collapsing window with her friends, clothed in putrid rags, peering down at the King of the Watched as He strode along their filthy lane. Stopping directly below them, He had looked up straight into her eyes. “Come,” His voice of warmth brought feeling to her long-benumbed heart, “it is time for you to leave this place.” Dreamlike, she had left her jeering companions, and joined Him. “You will need this,” He told her gently, holding out the beautiful Word, upon a trifling scrap of paper, “Go to the gate and speak it. It is My most precious possession, and it is all you need.”


Removing her cape, the tired lass melted onto one of the garden benches, pulling the paper from her pocket to clutch between her hands. What was precious must be guarded above all else. Yet, her heart broke for the Watchers, who knew nothing of the sun and warmth which lay just beyond the crumbling cold and darkness of their world. Footsteps broke her reverie, and before she could wipe her eyes, the King stood before her. “What? Tears? What is the matter with my precious one?” He queried, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Papa,” she sobbed – for such was the kindness and love of the King, that she was now one of His own daughters – “I can’t help wishing… Can you not… Are there no more parchments to give the Watchers?”

Silence followed, and afraid she had gone too far, the princess explained: “I know you told me this parchment was your most precious possession, and therefore I must keep it safe, but the Watchers–“ “Daughter,” there was a gentle rebuke in the voice of the King, “you misunderstand Me. It is only precious things from the world of darkness that are kept to and for oneself. All precious things in and of this land are to be given freely and liberally. You will never lack, but rather have greater wealth if you give everything. Those things which are most precious to Me are the things I share most generously.”

Surprised, the girl lifted her head to search the King’s face. “You mean, the parchment…”

“Is for you to give the Watchers. Some will refuse My gifts,” here the eyes of the King held a sorrow so deep, the princess had to look away, “but many will accept, if you will only share what I have given you.” For a brief moment, the girl hesitated. Was she willing to give everything she held dear to the Watchers? Troubled, she raised her eyes to those of the King, and saw in them the answer. Anything from the Land of Light was precious because it could be given again and again, without being lost. Such was the will and design of the King.

“I will share this Word of Yours,” she whispered, relaxing her hold on the paper and turning to once again don her cape, “They need to know what precious means.” And standing tall, the Princess of the Watched turned toward the gate.

Sarah is our oldest (ancient!), dearest friend whom you have no doubt become accquainted with as a regular part of our life, and therefore One Bright Corner. She is a follower of Jesus Christ, and her greatest joy is learning more about the character of God. The oldest of 10 homeschooled kids, she lives in the most beautiful place in the world--the green Northwest--where she serves God with her family and teaches violin and piano. Sarah blogs at The Lord's Lass.

Photograph Credits:
#1: SkeletalMess. Used by permission under the Creative Commons License.
#2: Courtesy of Sarah


  1. Beautiful post, Sarah! I enjoyed reading it so much. :) Very thoughtful and interesting. Thanks for sharing!

  2. Beautiful post! thank you for sharing.

  3. Absolutely lovely! I have not been on Blog for quite a long time due to many illnesses and problems of life, but today I changed to Google Chrome and ended up on my blog, Dibble Dabble More or Less. And there this beautiful piece was. Thanks for sharing dear one!


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