By Guest Blogger: CHRIS CARPIO (BLOG: The Real Few)

Chris grew up in our Church youth group and I've known him since he was a Junior High student. He was always a sharp young man, but it wasn't until recent months that I really got to appreciate the creative writing gift God deposited in his life. Chris is now a college student studying for ministry and has a bright future ahead of him. All that to say, I love his writing and I love his heart for Jesus, and in about 2 minutes, you will too!

The day I met you, arrow in the tree, I was actually running from something.

You could call it a hunter. It was definitely out for blood, but it wasn’t bound to a physical form. No, my hunter was very different. My hunter wanted my soul. It had been watching me all my life, waiting for the perfect moment to shoot. When he deemed it appropriate, he took his first shot. It grazed my arm and shot into a tree. After a moment of shock had passed, I started fled.

I thought I was safe.

Several weeks went by with no attacks. I became comfortable in my environment, my heart was light and I had never been more confident in myself. One day, as I was going to collect water from a manmade stream, I felt a sudden indescribable pain in my left leg. My muscles felt like they were ripping apart from the sharp tip of the arrow.

My confidence was lost because I was wounded and the only thing I had was the water from the manmade stream which would do nothing for me against this hunter. So I fled to the trees, but my hunter still followed me. My blood left a trail leading up to what was soon going to be death. My eyes slowly darkened which was a sign that it wouldn’t be too long until I hit the ground. The last thing I felt were hands on my head as my body softly hit the ground.

When I woke up I found myself sitting, leaning with my back against a tree. I looked up and saw an arrow in the tree with blue feathers at the end and a hint of blood peeking out from the bit of the tip of the arrow. I looked around a moment longer and realized where I was.

This arrow above me was the first arrow.

In a panic, I race to my feet to get a better view of the arrow when I notice a note. A letter. The letter was signed "Your Hunter." It read:

“Dear Prey I have been watching you all your life. Watching, waiting. I was never out of your sight, you were just to blind to see me. When I deemed it appropriate, I decided to shoot this first arrow your way. Just to let you know I was there. You noticed me, for a moment we made eye contact, but then you ran, fleeing to your blind lifestyle again. I waited for you, I gave you time to seek me out. You never did, instead you sought to quench your thirst from the manmade river and found confidence in yourself.

I know both of these things to be dangerous. The water of man will never quench your thirst, in fact it will only make you thirst more. Nothing within you is true, so when the moment came, which it did, you were not able to defend yourself. You fled back into the trees, I pursued you. When you could no longer stand on your feet and all you knew faded to black, I caught you and brought you softly to the ground. I want you to know I did all these things out of love.

Every arrow had a purpose, a meaning. The first one had two.

The first reason was to make you aware of who I am, and the second was to allow you to have a place to put the letter you write to me. Hang them on the arrow. Write to me every day. If days go by and I don’t hear from you, then that means you have once again forgotten me and I will have to hunt you down once again.

Every time I do, it’s as if it never happened. Prey look around you, every tree around you has an arrow with hanging letters. All these letters are from you, telling me how much you love me, how you’ll never forget me. I know you will though. I’ll keep coming after you.”

This letter I’m writing now is the last one that can fit on this arrow. I fear I will forget him again. I don’t remember his face, all I know is that he reads the letters I leave on the arrow in this tree. I just know that I’ve grown so much by writing to my hunter.

Love,

Prey

The Hunter folds the letter and places it in his inner jacket pocket. Draws an arrow and prepares to take his first shot at him who no longer prays.