I must have been about three the first time I played a video game. Some of my favorite and clearest childhood memories were playing Mario Kart 64 with my father and brothers. The video game was a mystery, full of wonder and challenge. I had to master the controls, timing, and mechanics of the game to compete with my brothers and father for Victory. Victory felt good. Victory in video games was a goal that I could easily grasp, even from a young age, and I had some talent with most games. This made me gravitate toward video games even before I understood the implications of spending large portions of time playing them. When I picked up a remote control for the first time I didn’t know that I would devote literally thousands of hours to this thing called video games in the next 18 years.

This post will not only serve as a defense of a choice I have recently made, but it will all serve to remind me why I made the choice when I am tempted to go back on my word. 

For the last few years I have gone back and forth internally about this; the struggle of trying to justify my desire to play video games. I have recently come to the conclusion that I should not play video games anymore.

“That seems rash! Why can’t you just play less? All things in moderation, right?” 

Wrong. At least for me. There are a few reasons why this is true.

Addiction

When something feels good I have a propensity to gorge. Playing video games feels good. If I could interact with video games in moderation, I may have never had to make this decision. But I can’t just play a game for a small duration. I would tell myself, “What is the point in playing if I don’t become the best, or accomplish the most?” But this was usually an excuse for the next reason that I should not play video games.

Escape

Most of the time I would play video games because I was trying to avoid something. Whether that was homework, or something as serious as pain. Video games became like a drug. I could just log on World of Warcraft and all of my problems seemed so far away. I wasn’t Connor anymore. I didn’t have to be. Using video games to escape real life is one of the more clear reasons why I needed to stop. 

Christ

Christ is the biggest reason I have chosen to stop playing video games, and without Him, I would have no real reason to stop. I am not about to claim that for anyone who is in Christ that playing video games is sinful, but I am going to claim that for me to waste time playing them is sinful. Basically, I know that Jesus wants me to do better things with my time than play video games.

For me, video games are mostly about consumption. I never really create anything of worth when I play them, and what I consume doesn’t contain the nutrients I need to grow. What I want to suggest is that, especially as a Christian, my time should be better spent. I should be consuming things that challenge me, and push me to be better; I should be creating things that are helpful and beautiful. Video games further neither of these ends.

Video games are very self-focused. When I play a video game, even when it is with others, I often do not interact well with those that I am playing with; and the interaction that is there is often shallow and impersonal. I should be investing in people and building relationships. People matter a lot more than me being comfortable consuming images and false goals for hours at a time. I should be allowing The Spirit to use me to be an example of the gospel in every word, action, and attitude. Video games seem to accomplish a goal very foreign to the goal of the gospel.

Do you really think cutting out video games will help you live the life you just described?

No. Only the God can give me the power to live a life that is glorifying to Him. Cutting out video games merely makes this easier. It allows more time for things that God can actually use to sanctify me, instead of me using the time to stagnant.

I think that there are individuals that may actually consume video games well, and a lot of this post will not apply to those individuals. But I am interested in discussing what it means to use video games well. I know I can’t, and therefore I must give them up.

The aim of this post is not condemnation or judgement, that is for God to decide. These are my honest thoughts and I am open to dialogue about anything that comes in response to them.

Before I begin I want to make it clear that in this post I am not arguing whether or not homosexuality is sinful. My conviction and reading of scripture has lead me to believe that homosexuality is sinful, but I am not closed-minded and am open to dialogue about this. 

I am going to define the term “Gay Christian” so that my use of it is clear.

There are those who have accepted and follow Christ who have homosexual desires. These are gay Christians.

There are two types of gay Christians. The first believes that homosexuality is wrong, and fights against their desires, as every Christian fights against sinful desires.

The second is the gay Christians who believes that their homosexuality is good and God-given. 

A lot of Christians treat gay Christians as people who could not possible love Christ. There is a HUGE hypocrisy here. Homosexual desires are like any sinful desire. What Christian would claim that they never act on, or fulfill, their sinful desires? But still, they claim that homosexuality is different, that it is somehow worse. 

I struggle with lust. I have lustful desires. Does this make me a non-Christian? No. Can I love Christ and also have lustful desires? Yes. 

A gay Christian struggles with homosexuality. They have homosexual desires. Does this make them a non-Christian? No. Can they love Christ and have homosexual desires? Yes.

The gay Christian that thinks that their homosexuality is good can still love Christ. This does not make them right in thinking homosexuality is good, but their confused and incorrect belief does not negate the fact that they love Christ. In this circumstance there needs to be grace and conversation, not condemnation and exile. 

There are times when I have been sinning and I thought I was doing good. Was I not a Christian? Was there not grace for even me, a confused sinner that was trying to follow Christ?

The hypocrisy is that Christians should be concerned with grace; and instead, when it comes to gay Christians, they are concerned with condemnation. 

I have been especially thinking how this applies to me. I have judged people. I have considered certain peoples to be non-Christians because “a Christian wouldn’t act that way.” But I act that way! I act sinfully. 

Grace has not been the posture of my heart, and it needs to be.

Now, this does not mean that I encourage, accept, or tolerate anything that is sinful. I simply cannot make the call whether or not a Christian who struggles with a certain sin can still be a Christian. Christians struggle with all sins. 

In my posture towards others I need first to be grace filled, and second to pursue holiness.

That means that when a brother or sister in Christ comes to me and says that they have homosexual desires; I treat them gracefully, and remind them that Christ died for their sins, but then I also remind them that we have been called to be holy, just as Christ is. 

Is this not how Christ acted during His ministry? He would go to the sinners, with grace, and then show them that they need to repent. Is that not how Christ comes to us all? With grace, and then He makes us holy.

Grace first; then Holiness.

The Christian that hates the gay Christian has forgotten the grace that was bestowed upon them at first, and in their pride think that holiness must come first before the gay Christian can have Christ.

In the future, when I interact with any Christian, no matter what they struggle with, I need to approach them with grace. I need to remind them that Christ loves them, and that He is who defines them. Their desires do not define them, Christ does.

But then, secondarily, I need to speak with them about whether they have any idolatrous beliefs. For example: many gay Christians will attempt to define themselves by their ‘gayness’ rather than by Christ. Instead of being a Christian who happens to have homosexual desires (a very small part of a human when considering the whole), they are constantly dwelling on these desires and think of themselves as a homosexual, before they think of themselves as a Christian. If there is idolatry like this, it must be addressed, but in the same way that lust or anger is addressed; as something that Christ will sanctify. Sanctification, as we know, is not something that is quick, but often takes much time. This means that just because they don’t realize their sin instantly, or are not quick to repentance, does not mean that God is not working in them and changing them.

I hope that this post gets across the gist of what I mean to say. If there are any questions, talk to me.

Morning air ran icy and crisp through his lungs. His legs carried him quickly and excitedly along the coastline. Sawyer had been summoned to meet with the village Magister. His older brother of three years had never received any letters from the Magisterium despite all of his accomplishments in their militia. This was a fact that remained on the front of his mind since the moment he awoke and it shown on Sawyer’s brow. Normally ‘The Call’ only occurred when a young child was found to have some magical aptitude. His being called now was abnormal considering Sawyer was seventeen years old, four years older than the Age of Calling. He dismissed his doubts and renewed the focus in his step. The Magister’s seat was a looming, stone tower four miles north along the coast from where Sawyer lived, and he still had a ways to go.

The beige sand and pure water were freezing cold on his bare, newly wetted feet. This did not bother him in least. He loved the cold, he always had. His dark green eyes watched the cliff sides that opposed the ocean. The cliffs were high, like a surge of earth that opposed the ocean’s waves, and by their magnitude they proclaimed their dominance. The trees at the foot of the cliffs were of a typical size for their species, but he could never for the life him remember what kind of pine they were. He adored the smell they gave off and the color they wore; they reminded him of his brother.

            Sawyer warmly recalled the time he had spent climbing and giggling in those trees with his brother. He knew that it couldn’t have been more than five years ago that they had sprinted to the tops of the towering trees and then immediately raced down them‒a much more trying task‒and then into the freezing water. The seawater tingled the cuts they received from the sharp bark of the trees, but they only laughed and splashed in the cold water completely ignorant of their discomfort.

            The reminiscences and the scenery lost his attention as he turned his keen eyes toward those who were on the beach with him. There were an unusually large number of people compared to most mornings. A man and a woman walked opposite him along the coastline with their hands firmly bound. The man wore a dark green hunting tunic as was customary of the gatherers in the village. The woman wore a graceful blue dress that swayed around her feet. They looked newly married judging by their youthfulness and affectionate postures. He nodded at them as they passed and they hailed him in unison with a cheery, “Mornin!” They giggled at their mirrored response and continued on their stroll. Sawyer breathed deeply after they passed by. Marriage reminded him of his parents.

 A family drew his attention. There were five of them. They were a father, a mother, and three children. The family was about fifty yards from where he was walking. Sawyer had seen the father before and thought he remembered his brother saying he was a woodcutter. His wife was tough like he was. They were looking out to the ocean together. Their children, two boys and a small girl, played at their feet.  The girl whined about the cold while tugging her mother’s dress. Her mother gave no response, and simply stared out to the sea. Concern covered her face.

Sawyer noticed then that something was changed in the air.  The ocean had become silent. He couldn’t remember the last time he had heard a wave smash onto to hard sand. He turned his head to the water and witnessed then what the apparently negligent parents had been staring at. The darkest black he could recall seeing painted and corrupted the whole ocean that moments before was clear and crisp. There were no waves. There was no movement. The ocean that had always breathed unfailingly had been suffocated. His lungs seized him forcefully and stopped his pace. Fear instantly clouded his entire mind. There was no room to react, no room to think. He only watched. A strange cold had gripped and frozen his mind and body.

He heard what sounded like an arrow flying through the air. The sound came from the water. He knew this sound well from when he and his brother would hunt together. Sawyer would always stalk and find the animal, and his brother would follow at a distance‒bow in hand and arrow at the ready‒and dispatch their dinner. The noise sounded like his brother’s arrow in flight. Then he heard the sound that comes next, the sound of an object lodging itself deep in flesh. He tried to move his stiffened neck to focus in on what or who had been hit. The cold fear that had taken hold of his mind made that impossible. Sawyer peripherally observed someone fall to the ground and red sand spread around their body. A siren of a scream broke out and more arrows flew from the water.

            Sawyer ran then. It was instinct. At this point his adrenaline was coursing quickly through his veins and his mind was clouded. He ran toward the tree line hoping for cover. He struggled to sprint twenty paces in the sand before he felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his lower back. He fell heavily to his hands and knees on the cold, hard beach. He looked up for help, but all of the others around him were already facedown and surrounded by their own crimson sand. He breathed one last quivering breathe, and then‒blackness. 

This is a taste of my fiction. Let me know what you think.

ONE

Morning air ran cold and crisp through his lungs. His legs brought him slowly and firmly along the coastline. The sand and water were freezing cold on his bare, newly wetted feet. This did not bother him in least. He loved the cold, always had. He watched the cliff sides that opposed the ocean with his dark green eyes. The cliffs were tall, like a wave of earth that opposed the waves in the ocean, and by their size they proclaimed their dominance. The trees at the base of the cliffs were of an average size for their species, but he could never for the life him remember what kind of pine they were. He loved the smell they gave off and the color they wore; they reminded him of his brother.

Sawyer fondly recalled the time he had spent climbing and laughing in those trees with his brother. He knew that it couldn’t have been more than five years ago that they had raced to the tops of the tall trees and then immediately raced down them‒a much more difficult task‒and then into the ocean. The saltwater stung the cuts they received from the bark of the trees, but they only laughed and splashed in the cold water completely ignorant of their pain.

The memories and the landscape lost his attention as he turned his keen eyes toward the people who were on the beach with him. There were an abnormally large number of them compared to most mornings. He observed a young couple walk opposite him along the coastline with their hands tightly bound. He smiled at them as they passed and they greeted him in unison with a cheery, “Mornin!” They laughed at their mirrored response and continued on their elated walk.

A family drew his attention. There were five of them. They were a father, a mother, and three children. The family was about fifty yards from where he was walking. The little sister of the two brothers was whining loudly about the coldness of the morning, but her parents seemed oddly unaware of her repeated complaints and merely stared concernedly out to the ocean.

 Sawyer noticed then that the ocean was dead quiet. He couldn’t remember the last time he had heard a wave crash onto to hard sand. It had to have been at least five minutes. He saw then what the seemingly neglectful parents had been staring at. The darkest black he could recall seeing painted the entire ocean. There were no waves. There was no movement. The ocean could have been thought solid due to its stillness. His lungs held him tight and chills ran down his spine. Fear instantly clouded his entire mind. There was no room to react, no room to think. He only watched. A strange cold had gripped and frozen his mind and body.

 He heard a series of noises echo in his cold ears. The first was the sound of air being displaced by a swiftly moving object. He knew this sound well from when he and his brother would hunt together. Sawyer would always stalk and find the animal, and his brother would follow at a distance‒bow in hand and arrow at the ready‒and dispatch their dinner. It sounded like his brother’s swift arrow, like his arrow in flight. Following that noise there was another, related sound, an object lodging itself deep in living human flesh. He couldn’t move his stiffened neck to focus in on what or who had been hit. The cold fear that had taken hold of his mind made movement impossible. Sawyer peripherally observed someone fall to the ground and red sand spread around their body. That is when the screaming started. In response to the screaming there was an immediate flood of the first two noises.

Sawyer ran then. It was instinct. At this point his adrenaline was coursing quickly through his veins and his mind was clouded. He was propelled by a deep fear unlike any he had ever experienced prior. He struggled to sprint twenty paces in the sand before he felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his lower back. He fell heavily to his hands and knees on the cold, hard sand. He looked up for help, but all of the others around him were already facedown and surrounded by their own crimson sand. He breathed one last quivering breathe, and then‒blackness. 

About one year ago I made a choice that has done me a lot of good. I thought to share it now because I see others struggling with what I once struggled with. What I am about to bring up may not be for everyone, it may even be wrong, but I have found it very useful and progressive. 

Basically the idea is this; Instead waiting for an answer from God about His will for my life, I instead pray that God’s will will be known to me and done through my actions. 

For example, I used to worry about if I was making the right choice in many different aspects of my life. I would pray, and seek God for an answer. “God, what am I supposed to do?” Suffice to say that most every time I never got an answer, or maybe I did, but I was too deaf or blind to hear or see it. Anyhow, an answer that I can’t hear or see is no good to me. It is possible that I should have, and still should, listen harder, but that is beside the point. I have seen God speak and grow me in the choice I have made.

I want to put forth the idea that most choices humans make have no moral content. This is key to my lifestyle being ‘right’ and not just an easy way out of seeking God’s will for my life. The idea that most choices humans make have no moral content did not come from my mind, but the mind of Dr. John Mark Reynolds. Dr. Reynolds is the director of the Torrey Honors Institute at Biola University, of which I belong to. He is a devout Christian and I respect his views. 

That most choices have no moral content is exemplified by the following; when I wake up in the morning I have the choice to brush my teeth, I am proposing that it is neither morally good or bad to make the choice to brush my teeth or not. God will not be angry with me if I do not brush my teeth (though most everyone I speak to will be.) Now, I am not so naive to think that other Christians are asking God if it is His will for them to brush their teeth in the morning. But sometimes I feel like people are struggling with something very similar to this.

So now I am going to apply this to a choice that is much bigger in proportion, but as far as I can tell has no moral content:

Hypothetically, a friend of mine is deciding whether or not to move from one state to another. There are good reasons to stay where they are, and there are good reasons to move to the other state. Their struggle at this point is asking God which is the ‘right’ choice. They are super stressed out about it and looking for signs and trying to figure out what God would have them do. Do not get me wrong, I think it is VERY important to ask for God’s will and guidance. But what one does after that point is where I differ from most people I know. 

Praying for guidance is the start to any major choice. But what do you do when the answer is unclear? My friend seems to be waiting for an answer from God and stressing out because they cannot tell what He is saying, or even if He is speaking. I used to do the same thing. But now I approach this situation in a different way. I pray and ask God to guide me, and If I don’t feel like the Spirit is leading me any certain way, I take that to mean that God is letting me choose. 

“But wait,” one says “Because God has foresight doesn’t that mean that there is one ‘correct’ way? Shouldn’t we seek the path that God has lain out for us?”

Well, yes. But don’t you think it is possible that God could lay out a path where He has us choose for ourselves? If He gives no answer I think that may mean that there is no answer, save for the obvious conclusion that He wants us to choose what we deem best.

Let me try to wrap up my point concisely:

-God wants us to seek and submit to His will. Sometimes His will may be that we choose what we deem best after asking for His guidance, and waiting for an answer.

Now, there are obvious dangers to this way of thinking. There is a kind of “I can do whatever I want” mentality that can be the result of embracing these ideas. But as long as one is honestly loving God and not committing wicked deeds, I see no problem with it. If one is honestly loving God, the Spirit will lead.

One might say, “What if you didn’t wait long enough to hear an answer and made a bad choice?” 

Well, if that is the case then I will have experienced God’s will. If something doesn’t work out that I have chosen to pursue, then it is obvious what God’s will is. Most times there is little harm in God showing us His will after we have made a choice. I have found that it is only after I have finally chosen to do something, that God reveals His will, either in that thing coming to fruition or destruction. 

Now for the positive ways this has influenced my life:

Ever since I have decided to live this way I have had much less stress. I find a real peace in the choices I make. Basically there are few things better than praying for God’s guidance, then acting, then seeing God work through that action. This is far different than being stuck in deliberation. When I used to be constantly deliberating on whether not to follow through with a certain choice, not only was I miserably lost, but also, nothing happened, meaning the choice wasn’t made. I wasted tons of time worrying and deliberating instead of acting. I found that most times I was just worrying myself and not trusting that whatever happened, God was in control, even if I was making the choice.

This way of way of living has also increased my faith. There is almost no time where I feel like God is inactive in my life. I am able to recognize his work a lot better now that I have decided to trust Him in my actions. It is also true that almost nothing I have chosen to do has failed. I do not want to claim this lack of failure to my own ‘awesome choosing abilities,’ but rather to the leading of the Spirit. 

I also just had this thought for the first time and it seems pretty true:

It seems to me like the Follower of Christ who is close to God will have to spend less time wondering what the will of God is, and will simply be informed by the Spirit. I think that out of such a person you would see much action, and little worrying/deliberation. 

Now that sounds boastful considering what I have just claimed to do, but believe me when I say I am honestly seeking Truth and am open to all criticism done in love and correction. It is my hope that if I am walking in such a way that is not in sync with what Jesus would have me do, that a brother or sister in Christ will correct and rebuke me. 

So please, if you are sick with worry because you are afraid of making the ‘wrong’ choice, consider what I have said and try to choose what you deem best. After choosing, trust that God will make good of whatever you have chosen. 

I would ask all who struggle with this to have faith and courage, and then from that faith and courage to act. And then to be at peace, God is in control.

If you have read this, I thank you for your time. (I am sorry that it was lengthy.) And please challenge me if you disagree, or ask me questions if you do not understand my meaning.

With Love,

Connor Collins

But really, what would it be if it weren’t a challenge? Muster your courage and endure.

So for the longest time I have been sure that if I could have ‘super powers’ that I would choose some sort of time manipulation. But, starting last night and leading into this morning I have been thinking about invisibility/teleportation. The combination of these two powers might trump time manipulation for me. 

In my dream last night night I was able to turn invisible. It was a very strange dream. At one point it felt like a combination of The Incredibles, Up, and Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs. 

I wish it were easier to transfer images into words. The words that I would choose to describe my dream will only cause a different image than what I see to appear in the reader’s mind. I want the reader to see what I see. I wish I were so skilled with words that I could portray an exact image with them. But, I guess that is the beauty of words; for each person the same combination of words will produce a different image, effect, emotion, ect. 

But, dream images are more like movies with feelings attached, I think. If this is the case then one would have to film a movie of exactly what they dreamed, which for me is near impossible, and then try to explain the feeling attached. This is also impossible for me. This leaves me to conclude that what people dream will remain in their minds for the most part. At least the original will remain with them. 

So then the question. Do I put the thirty minutes into writing out this dream? Sure. If this explanation creates something interesting in the mind of the reader that would make it worth it. Even of the image created is not what I saw when I dreamed or remembered. 

The first thing I remember is a party. In a backyard. It was nighttime and there were few clouds in the sky. A bright moon shone through once and a while. It was a perfect night in my judgement. The lighting in the yard was dim. Pale lights shone from within bushes and from atop a gazebo placed at the back corner of the yard. There was a pool to the side of the gazebo. The pool was dark. The attention was focused at the long table. The table was lit by the same pale, oddly placed lights. I sat at the head of the table- (cut)

-I left the party with Mark Kastner. Before we left we were attacked on the street by these dog monsters that are similar to a Skag from Borderlands. It ran off before doing any real damage. (I think this may have been the first time I turned invisible) Or it may have had to do with the dagger I had in my hand. Either way after that the dream cuts again. 

There is a vague part where I am looking for Holly. I think I am trying to apologize for something. I can’t remember. Meh.

Alright, this is the part that was like the previously mentioned movies. I was being chased by a man that could shoot fire. I never got a good look at him because every time he got close to me he was shooting fire at me. Go figure. Anyway. I was on a train that was moving through a colorful, yet destroyed city. The colors were warm and the sun was setting. 

So, in the train people couldn’t see me because I was able to turn invisible. I think I had an interaction with a man who I disappeared right in front of. I think he freaked out. I was making my way tot he front of the train and when I got to the Train Operator’s room it was sort of like a airplane cockpit. There were two men driving. One on the right and one on the left. The one on the right turned to me and kind of freaked out. I pointed out the front of the train. There was something tunneling below the tracks in front of us. The train was going to derail. As I turned to run the last thing I saw was fire burst from where the tunneler was.

Basically I got saved on a flying contraption by a bunch of people I didn’t know. It was weird. Fun stuff though.

I love dreaming like this. It usually happens when I wake constantly through the night. Yep. Tired. Headache. Sleep soon. Peace. 

The dazedness of mind
these Images and Words
The heavy pulling breath
Neither seen nor heard

Lungs in frozen time
Braced for heavy breath
the Anchors of stillness
Drop into the sea
Foreign breath, hard to breath
In to me, into the deep

It is lost, my breath in it
Weights of slow with every take
No more time can I wait

Days pass slow
Till they are gone
Then never known
Their time for long

The rising time is now
Breaking soon from harm
Only will these Anchors light
When safely in my arms 

“Hello, what is your name?” I asked. I attempted to sound friendly.
He looked up at me with his green eyes and then quickly turned them back to the ground. Somehow this shy boy had ended up in the park alone.
“Where are your parents?” I said. This time I was a bit sterner.
He put his small hand on his head and ruffled his own dirty blond hair. He turned slightly and pointed over his shoulder. He said nothing. I glanced in the direction he pointed and saw no one. Well, there was a dog, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt and didn’t ask him if the dog was what he was pointing toward. He probably just lived in that direction. 
I sighed and got on my knee. “Do you like to swing?” I said.
He looked me straight in the eye for the first time. After a second he nodded and smiled. He ran over to the swing set before I could even ask him if he wanted me to push him. I laughed as I walked behind the set. Cute kid, but where are his parents?
#
“Hey.” 
I turned to see who called me. It was the boy from before, from the park. I glanced around only to inevitably observe that he had no parents with him. 
“Hey,” I said smiling. “Did your parents bring you shopping?”
He stared at me like I was insane. He broke into a smile and laughed. What was he playing at? Now I couldn’t tell if he was messing with me or not. Maybe he was just really good at getting away from his parents? Or maybe he was really older than he looked? He turned to run and looked back over his shoulder as if he wanted me to chase him. I put my head down and smiled. 
“Come back here,” I said in a comical voice.
I chased him around the grocery store for a while. I ignored the condescending looks of the senior citizens who desired not to be disturbed in their daily routines. I chased him for about fifteen minutes; I was really enjoying it until I lost track of him. It was like he disappeared. I looked around the store for a while before expecting that he must have been collected by his parents and taken home.
#
Thinking back on the experiences I had the last couple days I couldn’t help but wonder if the child wasn’t real. Every time he appeared I had entered into a state of joy where time seemed endless. It was like I was a child again whenever he was around.
I sank into my chair and put my face in my hands. If he wasn’t real that would mean I am going crazy. I walked over to the window and looked out into the night. The city was lit with dots of light. I wondered where he was and if I would see him again.
“Come with me this time.”
The boy was there again. He was standing there and staring at me. His face was beckoning me to make a choice. He wanted me to come with him?
“What do you mean come with you?” I said.
He turned his head slightly and gave me a weird smirk. He motioned for me to follow him and he walked around the corner and down the hall of my house. I followed him closely and he led me to my room. He pointed at the closet and stopped moving. There was a light coming from under my closet door. 
I glanced at him. Did he really want me to open the closet? And where was that light coming from? There were no electrical outlets; only clothes and boxes full of items I had forgotten. He nodded and then motioned his head toward the door. 
I breathed in and walked toward the door. I hadn’t felt like this in a long time. It was like I was walking toward something unknown or uncertain. I was sure I knew what was in that closet, but for some reason I felt uneasy. I pulled the door open slowly and a blue light poured out. It was coming from one of the boxes on the floor of the closet. I knelt down and opened it. Inside there was one item that seemed to be the source of the light. It was too bright to tell exactly what it was. 
I looked back at the boy. My face pleaded for explanation. I looked back into the box, slightly blinded by the glow, and apprehensively reached for the source. And then I was gone.