Several months back, we featured a chilling fiction story by author Rick Barry about Jacob, a young man who had been imprisoned because of his faith. (See “Jacob’s Cell.” ) Something horrific had happened to his homeland. The nation that once called itself “the land of the free” was cracking down on anyone who followed Jesus Christ:
It had been no dream. He was really here, still locked inside the cell where he had spent more days than he could count. With each new dawn, Jacob opened his eyes with a sliver of hope that this place had been nothing more than a twisted nightmare.
Jacob slid to his knees beside the bunk. “Dear God,” he began aloud, “help me to stand firm for You. Yesterday, when the warden offered to free me if I would sign a statement that I reject my faith, I almost agreed. Forgive me for my impatience to be free. Thank You for strengthening me in my weakness. And, please, send me a copy of Your Word to warm my heart in this cold place.”
Just then, a cheery ray of sunlight spilled through the bars of the window. Jacob paused and held his fingers in its brightness. The light’s delicate warmth fetched memories of days when he could freely walk and run in the park. Should he try to see her now, or should he wait a little longer?
Placing the bucket on the bedsprings, Jacob stepped up and steadied himself beside it. Gingerly placing his right foot on the middle of the lid, he hoisted himself until his hands caught the bars overhead. Finally, standing on the tips of his toes, he managed to pull his eyes up to the window. Holding himself in that position was a strain, but this morning the exertion proved worthwhile.
“Yes!” he exulted. “There she is. I can see her today!”
Despite the discomfort of his position, Jacob’s lips curved into a bittersweet smile. Across the water — difficult to see from the cell but still visible — stood the huge, pale-green statue of a woman lifting a torch to the sky.
At the end of the story, we raised a few questions: What happens next? Is Jacob eventually set free? Or does he die in the cell? Either way, will his life become a bold witness for God?
Then we issued a challenge: You decide! The answers are yours, as YOU tell us the rest of the story from Jacob’s point of view.
Mail bags with writing entries flooded our offices. Two conclusions rose to the top of the stack!
AND THE WINNERS ARE . . .
BRIAN’S WAY
He held the awkward position a moment longer, then eased downward, careful not to tip the bucket and alert a guard. It would be a shame to get the reeking bucket confiscated. After all, aside from prayer, viewing the statue inspired Jacob to persevere — and he needed the bucket to do that.
Jacob heard the clicking sound of wheels passing over tile and knew it was breakfast time. In a moment, a breeze seemed to stir within the cell, and Jacob felt his soul surge within him. Time seemed suspended; he knew exactly what to do and say. As the food slot yawned back to deposit the morning gruel, Jacob pushed his hand out, holding the slot open. The spring resistance of the metal was a strain to his weakening body, but he felt as if the words he possessed were burning embers within his mouth that must be spoken.
In a husky voice he breathed, “Thank you for your service, Paul. May God bless you.” With those simple words, the last of his strength left him, and the slot slid shut just as a bullet barely missed his grime-covered fingers.
Lying on the floor, Jacob realized in dismay that his condition was worsening. His breath came harder now. It would not matter to tell the warden of it. Jacob’s days were numbered and had been from birth. As consciousness began to leave with darkness spinning about him, he found joy thinking of the day he would leave earth’s troubles behind. But one unreachable question remained, evading him like a specter dancing before his eyes. Who was the man he had spoken to? And perhaps more important, how did he know his name?
Jacob dreamed.
In his mind, he saw a flower. It was a dandelion, late in bloom, so that the seeds were attached to a white fluffy plume at the end of the stem. A breeze was blowing, and with each gust, it carried another seed away. Soon all were gone but one, and as that last seed caught wind, he felt himself fly with it.
He soared high above the celadon hill and felt such joy as never before, as if God were flying beside him. The joy was not to last. A dark, smoky wind caught his body and carried it away. In that moment he cried out, but was lost.
The wind thrust him down into the city, into a crack in the concrete. He could sense others in faults around him, but he could not see them. He felt crushing despair to hear their cries, knowing he could not save them, as he could not save himself.
Then the clouds parted, and he felt a surge of hope as the sun touched him. With restored faith, he watched as he and the others grew taller, stronger. Soon the cracks in the sidewalk turned to breaks, those breaks turned to forked fissures throughout the city. As the dream faded, dandelions covered the earth, and the world reflected the glory of the sun.
Jacob wiped tears from his eyes as he rose from the untimely nap. His dream made little sense, but it filled him with an energizing faith and hope. Prayer felt tangible now, and his soul burned with sizzling fire. He scratched his grizzly face with consideration. He had power, but how to use it? He began to pray.
“Father, I know I will die soon, but You have given me strength in these last hours. Please, let me use this gift for Your will. Amen.”
He waited. As he sat there, with cold slime in a bowl before him, he could feel his senses sharpen. He could hear the fly buzzing outside his window. He could see the flecks on dirt on the heavy door. . . .
The footsteps echoed from far down the hall. He felt the person draw near, look about, then open the food slot. The young, anxious voice of a man spoke.
“You’re the Christian?”
“Yes,” Jacob replied.
“I don’t have much time. What you said to me, well, it touched me. I used to be a Christian and, well, this atheism thing won’t last forever. There are meetings now, in secret all over the nation. An uprising will come soon because of people like you. God is coming. And I feel you should have this.” Through the slot came a hand holding a worn, pocket-sized New Testament. To Jacob it was priceless.
“I have to go,” the man said hurriedly.
“Bless you, bless you, Paul!” Jacob replied.
The food deliverer paused one moment longer. “How did you know my name?”
Jacob smiled. “God told me.” With that, the slot door closed,
Jacob ran his fingers over the book, loving its warmth. Paul’s gift was miraculous. As he looked at the binding, Jacob’s eyes flickered with interest. A small gap between the pages revealed something inside. Opening to Matthew, Jacob’s eyes grew radiant as he raised his eyes knowingly at the light pouring through the cell window.
Within the Bible was a dandelion. 
SAM’S WAY
Jacob studied the shafts of sunlight bathing the statue and the emerald reflection in the water that shifted with the waves. He had never seen her look this beautiful. Not in any of his days in this prison. Maybe God was giving him a sign through the polluted smog of the New York skyline. Through all the hopelessness and sin outside his stone walls, God still found places to show His glory. Jacob couldn’t stop staring at the Lady and her reflection.
With the last ounce of strength, he gazed up at the torch that lifted its blaze to the heavens. The last ray of sunlight glinted off its golden facets. With a cry, his arms gave way and he crashed onto his bed, exhausted but filled with joy at what could be his final glance at Liberty.
He lay motionless, his breath heaving and tears running down the edges of his face. Finally, he pulled himself up on his elbows, the sunlight no longer flickered through the window above his head and his cell was cloaked once more in gray gloom. His breakfast would be sliding under the door soon.
Jacob wiped the wetness of old tears off his cheeks, then swung his legs over the side of his bed and put his head in his hands. His thoughts returned to times past, times when Liberty really did mean freedom, and a dark cell wasn’t the final destination for those who believed in God.
Back then I used to be free to do whatever I wanted with God. The thoughts flooded his head. Now, you believe or you don’t, and those who do believe end up here, jailed on Ellis Island. Isn’t it ironic how a place that was once such a gateway to freedom is now a dungeon to keep hope locked inside? How could this country have strayed so far from its roots?
A sharp clank broke the gloom. Jacob raised his head from his hands. That wasn’t the familiar screech of his meal door. The iron door to his cell was slowly sliding open. The little bit of light from the corridor was blocked by a hulking silhouette.
“Prisoner 0735, get up! It’s your lucky day. Today’s your retrial.”
Jacob slowly rose to his feet. What was this? He turned to face the guard just as a gloved fist smashed into the side of his face. His head snapped backward, and he crumpled to the floor. A chorus of laughs rang from the door. More than one? How dangerous could I be? The guard dug his hand into Jacob’s hair and yanked him back to his feet.
“Let’s go,” he growled. A bag was slid over Jacob’s head, and everything went black.
Suddenly, he was shoved to his knees, pain shooting up his legs from the impact of bone on solid rock. The bag was roughly yanked off his head. The room he was in was dark, dark enough that his eyes needed to adjust. A table materialized from the gloom. Three men sat behind it, glaring. Shadows partially cloaked their faces. There was a sharp crack as the guard crashed a wooden club into Jacob’s back. Pain coursed though his body, and Jacob fell onto his hands. “Do you not know to bow before the Council?” the guard hissed into his ear, malice dripping from every word.
Jacob didn’t reply. He raised his eyes. This Council would decide his future. The man in the middle spoke. His deep voice echoed throughout the chamber.
“Prisoner 0735, Jacob Ivanov, you have been charged with crimes against thought. You failed to renounce these crimes at your arrest. Now you have the chance to do so. Renounce now and you may go on your way, a free citizen of New America. Yet if you choose not to, we won’t be as easy this time. You will be killed. What is your choice?”
The image of Lady Liberty flashed through his mind as the click of a bullet being chambered sounded next to his ear. The image of hope that she had set in him this morning inspired him to stand firm for Christ. He looked the councilman in the eye. “I will never renounce my faith,” he said quietly. “Do to me what you will.”
A brief flash of pain, and then a brilliant white light flooded his view. The most wonderful voice reverberated through him. “My son, you have served Me well.”
Jacob was free.
GRAND-PRIZE WINNERS:
Brian Waidelich, 15, Pettisville, Ohio and Sam Edgin, 17, Bowie, Md.
These teenage novelists scored a $100 cash prize.
