Faith Seekers

She raised her head when she felt the warmth. A violet cloud poured into her hands and over her head. He spoke like water falling into a deep pool. “The sapling belongs to me.”

When Hannah’s family loses their home, she drops out of college and joins them as they take their RV on a journey through fractured America. Struggling with her loss of identity, she attempts to embrace her new life as a nomad until a California campground unveils a nightmare that only she can see. She questions her sanity as her family continues on their journey, and her unearthly visions increase.

Faith Seekers (Young Adult Christian Fiction)

By Sherry Rossman

ASIN #BOOQVY62OG

Price $2.99

216 Pages

Rating 3-Stars

“Pure Fantasy”

Hannah’s architect father loses his job, and the family loses their money and home. All that’s left to them is their gas-guzzling RV, which they load up and head for the flea market circuit. Hannah, mom, dad, and brother Ian consider themselves traveling hobos. Her mom, Rose, sews quilts while Hannah paints. What they sell at the flea markets puts gas in the RV, and food in their belly. But on the road, they run into evil. The devil has plans for Hannah.

Hannah is gifted with Sight. She sees things that are going to happen, and recognizes the battle between good and evil. Called a prophet by her inner circle, she knows the coming war will be terrible, and it’s all around the flea markets they go to. Satan has plans to destroy America with a revolution, using the people found around the flea markets, and Hannah has met God, the Great I Am, in the body of an elk. To protect her from the evil, she has an elk tattooed on her back. Her boyfriend has a Cross tattooed on his chest to protect him. His uncle has an old coat that is filled with righteous power, as well.

God commanded that we make no image of Him, but man consistently builds images to worship, from the golden calf to cats, birds, and whatever else man wants to put God into. This would have been a good story, I think, if the author had just used evil people in the story, and left God, the devil, and his demons out of the plot. The author used flowery language, but the writing was awkward throughout. Here’s a sample, “She backed away from him, stood up and paused to gather her faith.” Seems to me she should have “stood up” first. Whenever the story starts to drag, the author has Hannah run into the woods. Of course, the devil-man is waiting for her. The reader knows exactly what is going to happen. I guess her Sight doesn’t work all the time. And God and his angels are elks? And bowing to an elk, and worshipping images? I still can’t understand why Christians would mar their bodies with tattoos. I never really felt the hunger in the characters, as they seemed to always have food, never feeling the pain of an empty belly. The so-called final battle scene is a real mess. Shadowy demons. Tornados. People and trees blown hither and yon, yet only one person dies. It’s hard to keep up with everyone, and understand what is really going on. The scenes seemed to get away from the author, and half the time I was wondering what was happening. I’m sure the author had good intentions with the story, but as a Christian I was completely shocked by most of the imagery. When Hannah gets on her knees to worship an elk, I almost quit reading this book. Yes, she sees the Great I Am in the image of the elk, but this seemed too much like idol worshipping. As a Christian I was disgusted with the book. The only way I could continue was to read it purely as a fantasy novel, and at that it only rates a 3-Star. I can’t recommend this as a Christian work, but fantasy readers may find it appealing.

Tom Johnson

Author of The Soul Stealers

Excerpt

The Trailer smelled like last night’s onions and morning breath. Hannah cracked the window and coiled her dark hair away from her face. Her dad’s snores from behind the sliding door were getting softer—he and Mom would be awake soon. she glanced at her brother, still asleep in the bed above hers. she needed to leave before he woke. Ian didn’t need to come this time.

The rolled-up mat sat between the door and kitchen cupboard, waiting to resume its post in the ever- revolving landscapes of America. she grabbed it and slid outside into fresh air. Welcome, it said, in large black letters. Only two months old, it looked like it had seen a lifetime—a lifetime of sun and the treading of unsettled feet. Hannah placed a heavy rock on either side to keep the edges from curling. 

Her mother was convinced no home was complete without that offer, even for the simplest of visitors.

Hannah stepped onto a tree-lined trail. The textbook under her arm was the last one she had left. American history. Although her dad considered it the keystone of the future, Hannah found no solutions within the pages. As the trail faded into wilderness, she found a tree scorched to death. At its blackened base, Hannah dug a hole and laid the book to rest. Damp soil invaded her nails as she scattered the last of it on top of her old college book.

The ground cradled her sorrow when she stretched out beside the new grave and searched the heavens above the arms of the forest. The ache in her chest rose to meet her tears as they slid into the earth. How do I find answers from a silent God?

A sudden whisper danced from branch to branch and flowed around her for a moment. Perhaps the forest still remembered the earliest inhabitants that took less and lived more freely. Or maybe it was God’s voice, indecipherable, like always.

Noises of a waking camp interrupted her peace. she hungered for solitude like a woman craves chocolate. she searched the ground until she found the path that led to the shore. Hannah quickened her pace when salty air joined the trees. Starfish accented the rocks like God had decorated, but Hannah didn’t want to sketch this time—she wanted to run until her legs shook.

The wind loosened her hair, whipping it into tangles. she pumped her legs until the sand began to dissolve beneath her feet and then faced the waves, returning their roar. When she ran out of breath, she collapsed into the sand.

Hannah hugged her knees and caught sight of her hands. These aren’t nails, these are claws. The jagged edges on her fingers framed the dirt from the burial of books and dreams that had been her life over the past few months. Up until her family had lost everything, Hannah had kept her nails in perfect condition—a French manicure one month, custom airbrushing the next. If my friends could see me now, they wouldn’t recognize the hobo I’ve become.