Cross
New member
There is a knock on the door. Cross turns his head and sees a large manila envelope slides under the front door of his penthouse suite. Slightly perplexed, he puts down his small drink of Casadores tequila on the glass dining room table and walks to where this surprise package lies. He picks it up and opens the door. He looks ahead down the north corridor. No one. He looks down the east corridor, but it’s a dead end. There is no one there. He looks toward the private elevator on the west corridor. There! The elevator door is sliding closed, but a tail end of something long, black, and leather barely squeaks in. Too late.
Cross looks at the large envelope. “Xandor” is cleanly and carefully written on the face. Definitely female handwriting. He can smell perfume on the envelope. A troubling thought crosses his mind causing a slight grimace.
It couldn’t be.
No.
Not her.
Cross opens the envelope carefully. The sweet smell of the perfume rises with each tear of the paper. Inside is a letter, handwritten with the same writing on the front of the envelope.
The letter reads:
Dear Xandor,
For every person there is a Moment of Truth. In your job as a professional wrestler it always comes in front of thousands of people in a crowded municipal auditorium or stadium or on television with twenty million people watching, waiting to see if you will survive the onslaught of your opponent. For the most part they come to catch a glimpse of the Unseen. They are there because in many ways you project in the ring the mysteries of life, seen and unseen.
But I have seen the Unseen of Cross.
What you hide in the darkness, I see as clear as day.
You may have gained everything the world calls success, but in doing so you have lost your family, your life, and your immortal soul.
I will bring it all back.
“For now you are dead, but will live again; you are lost, but will be found.”
You live by the Word of God. So meditate on these words:
“The LORD God said, "It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him."
Soon, Xandor, the Moment of Truth will come.
Signed…
+++
Moment of Truth?
3 Crosses?
What the hell?! This is bull****!
Cross crumples up the paper and shoots it across the room into the kitchen. It ricochets off the wall and into the wastebasket yet the aroma of the perfume lingers.
Moments later, Cross is picking the ball of paper out of trash. He unfurls it.
…
Cross looks at the large envelope. “Xandor” is cleanly and carefully written on the face. Definitely female handwriting. He can smell perfume on the envelope. A troubling thought crosses his mind causing a slight grimace.
It couldn’t be.
No.
Not her.
Cross opens the envelope carefully. The sweet smell of the perfume rises with each tear of the paper. Inside is a letter, handwritten with the same writing on the front of the envelope.
The letter reads:
Dear Xandor,
For every person there is a Moment of Truth. In your job as a professional wrestler it always comes in front of thousands of people in a crowded municipal auditorium or stadium or on television with twenty million people watching, waiting to see if you will survive the onslaught of your opponent. For the most part they come to catch a glimpse of the Unseen. They are there because in many ways you project in the ring the mysteries of life, seen and unseen.
But I have seen the Unseen of Cross.
What you hide in the darkness, I see as clear as day.
You may have gained everything the world calls success, but in doing so you have lost your family, your life, and your immortal soul.
I will bring it all back.
“For now you are dead, but will live again; you are lost, but will be found.”
You live by the Word of God. So meditate on these words:
“The LORD God said, "It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him."
Soon, Xandor, the Moment of Truth will come.
Signed…
+++
Moment of Truth?
3 Crosses?
What the hell?! This is bull****!
Cross crumples up the paper and shoots it across the room into the kitchen. It ricochets off the wall and into the wastebasket yet the aroma of the perfume lingers.
Moments later, Cross is picking the ball of paper out of trash. He unfurls it.
…