Faith Beats Fear Free Story Excerpt

FAITH BEATS FEAR BLENDS SHORT FICTION STORIES WITH A 21-DAY DEVOTIONAL TO HELP YOU FIGHT FEAR WITH POWER, LOVE, AND A SOUND MIND.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU GET THE NAME BRAND, LIKE I ASKED?”

“What does it matter?” he asked.

“They’ll think we’re poor.”

“The kids? What! Do they care? As long as it’s sweet they’ll be fine,” he said, waving her away.

“No, goodness. I’m talking about the parents. They go through the candy, you know!” she said.

“So!”

Then she said back to him, “So? Really?”

“What if they think we’re poor? We are. Everybody is.” He left after that.

I don’t guess I was supposed to hear any of this argument going on with my neighbors. But, hey, they decided to take their affairs outside on their porch.

I was cleaning up around my flower beds, minding my own business, when I heard them shouting.

Mrs. Albright was fixing up on some of the Halloween decorations, setting out fresh pumpkins and she must’ve just checked the candy her husband bought.

I’m not nosy, but sometimes I just like to listen out in case something go wrong. And this felt wrong. The Albrights? Fussing? Poor?

Surely not the Albrights. Not them!

They were new to the neighborhood and didn’t socialize too much with us old folks, but I knew they were the perfect couple. They had the perfect life — both were good lookin’ people with successful careers that kept them in nice cars and always adding on to their house, beautiful children, two dogs, and a house full of pretty things. The Albrights lived a life filled with majestic experiences, vacations in France for just the husband and wife, endless trips to parks, beaches, zoos, aquariums, museums and wonders of this world for the kids. I knew they were too perfect and happy to fight like this.

Facebook told me so.

I didn’t do much on the site. It took me forever to get on there. But one of my good girlfriends convinced me it’s a good place to stay in touch and keep up with each other. So I signed up. Next thing I know I got all these friends—some I know, some I sure don’t know! Plus it prove to be a good way to tell people about the café.

But back to the Albrights…what was going on in that perfect little home in real life?

We all got to see their journey from getting pregnant to finding out the sex and delivering the newest baby. I think the child was named something funny like Berry. She had a lot of allergies—peanut, strawberry, and milk so the poor child rarely could go to other folks’ houses.

I’m tellin’ you hearing them go on like that bothered me. Mr. Albright had just gave her a diamond anniversary ring—an upgrade she called it under the picture of her hand.

I always say it’s real easy for grass to look greener when it’s fake.

The Albrights overdid it on the holidays and Halloween wasn’t no different. They’d hired people to play like ghosts and goblins to scare the kids and adults. If the trick-or-treaters weren’t in line for candy, they could bob for apples for a chance to win homemade treats. Or they could take a whack at one of the witch piñatas hanging from the big ole tree in their yard.

I already knew about their plans well before October 31^st because Mrs. Albright had showed us step-by-step how she picked out everything, tested the recipes and put all them crafts together. It was somethin’ else! All the kids wanted to stop by their house. Even my grandbabies talked about it.

“When we going to that big house?” they asked, tugging on my shirt as we walked down the street. It was still early and the sun hadn’t even set yet.

I could spot the line out the Albrights’ house. Mrs. Albright was standing at the door, smiling and talking to the children in a sing-song voice. I didn’t see Mr. Albright nowhere. Didn’t even spot his car in the driveway.

She must’ve gotten some candy like she wanted, I thought as we got closer.

“Aw, look at you!” she said, squeezing the cheeks of my grandbabies. While she talked to them, I looked behind her shoulder, spotting the chandelier she’d posted about.

My lips didn’t say a word, but my eyes were questioning everything! I don’t talk much, but I know more than I say, think more than I speak and see more than you’d ever believe. I know how to keep stuff to myself.

“You have such a fine house,” is all I could say.

She kept that pretty mask on ‘til they’d given out of all the good candy, beat them witches to death, and left a tub full of murky, gray water and half-eaten red and yellow Golden Crisp apples on her porch.

Here’s what I say, your life is supposed to be for you, not some spectacle for people who don’t give a hoot about you. End up poor if you want to, trying to show off.

There was a time when people didn’t try so hard to be happy. Now it’s so complicated, you have to live three lives: the real thing, the one you trying to build, and showcase the one you wish you had to everybody else.

Trouble comes to knock on everybody’s door. Ain’t no sense in dressing up, pretending like disappointing things are only meant for other people. No, they’re yours too. You learn to let the storm come through and next thing you know it’s your turn for a rainbow.

Like I said, life ain’t all bad.

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