The Knock Before Dawn

The morning began like any other.

The kettle whistled, the clock ticked, and the soft hum of a gospel tune drifted through the small kitchen.

Anna pulled her cardigan tight and whispered a prayer over her cup of coffee.

“Lord, go before me today. I don’t know what waits out there, but You do.”

She was halfway through tying her hair when a sudden knock echoed through the quiet.

Firm. Unfamiliar.

It sent a shiver down her spine.

No one visited her this early.

She hesitated—hand hovering over the doorknob—then breathed, “God, if this is trouble, let me face it with peace.”

The door creaked open.

A young man stood there, hat in hand, polite but uneasy. His car idled at the curb.

“Morning, ma’am,” he said, voice rough from sleep. “Mr. Collins sent me to take you to work. Said your ride fell through?”

Anna blinked. Mr. Collins was her manager at the print shop, but he’d never sent a driver before.

Still, the young man’s eyes were kind—nervous, but kind.

She hesitated, searching his face. “And your name?”

“Eli,” he said quickly. “Eli Turner.”

Something in her spirit nudged her—Be still. Don’t fear.

So she nodded, grabbed her bag, and followed him to the car.

The road wound through the misty Tennessee hills, dew still clinging to the grass.

Eli kept his gaze fixed ahead, fingers tapping the steering wheel to a rhythm only he heard.

“Pretty morning,” Anna offered, voice gentle.

“Yeah,” he said. “Quiet out here. Peaceful.”

Silence filled the space again. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just heavy—like the air before rain.

She noticed the faint tremble in his hands, the faraway look in his eyes.

“You from around here?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Used to be. Been gone a while.”

“Sometimes we run far only to end up right back where God wanted us,” she said softly.

He gave a small laugh, more bitter than amused. “God and I… we’re not really on speaking terms.”

Anna smiled, eyes on the passing fields. “That’s alright. He’s still listening.”

Something flickered across Eli’s face then—like a spark buried under ashes.

By the time they reached the bridge outside of town, the car slowed.

“Sorry,” Eli muttered, pulling over. “Engine’s acting up. Might take a minute.”

But he didn’t check the hood.

Instead, his hands went to the glove box.

Anna felt it—the chill that came with realization.

Her heartbeat thudded loud in her ears. “Eli,” she whispered, “what are you doing?”

He froze, fingers brushing the metal inside.

“I… I don’t want to,” he said, voice breaking. “He told me I had to. Said you’d been… interfering.”

Anna’s breath caught. “Mr. Collins?”

Eli nodded, shame flooding his face. “He said you were costing him money, preaching to the others at work. Said I could fix it and make it right.”

Tears welled in Anna’s eyes—not for herself, but for him.

“Eli,” she said, steady as a river, “you don’t have to do this. God’s got you right here for a reason. Not for harm—for hope.”

He shook his head violently, clutching the gun with shaking hands.

“I can’t stop it. He’ll come after me next.”

“Then let’s pray,” she said.

They bowed their heads right there on the side of the road, the world hushed around them.

Anna’s voice was firm, rhythmic, almost musical as she spoke.

“Father, we come against fear and darkness.

You are greater than any weapon, any lie, any man’s command.

Set this soul free.

Break the chain that binds his heart.”

Eli trembled, tears slipping down his cheeks.

He dropped the gun—it clattered to the pavement like thunder.

“I can’t,” he cried. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“You don’t have to,” Anna whispered. “Jesus already did.”

For the first time, he looked up toward the morning light—and it was as if the sunrise itself poured over his face.

The hardness melted. The guilt loosened its grip.

He whispered through sobs, “God… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

But before peace could fully settle, the crunch of gravel split the moment.

A dark sedan rolled up behind them.

Mr. Collins stepped out—cold, determined, gun already drawn.

“I knew you’d fail me, boy,” he sneered. “Should’ve done it myself.”

Eli stepped in front of Anna instinctively. “Don’t,” he said. “You don’t have to do this.”

The boss laughed. “Don’t talk to me about faith. You’re both fools.”

Anna lifted her chin, eyes blazing not with anger but divine courage.

“You can call us fools,” she said, “but God calls us His.”

She reached for Eli’s hand.

Together they began to pray—out loud, strong, like thunder rolling through heaven.

“Our Father, who art in Heaven…”

The words filled the air, trembling with power.

Collins aimed the gun, but his hand began to shake.

His breath hitched.

The weapon slipped from his grasp as though it burned his skin.

He fell to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably.

“I… I can’t. I can’t do it. What have I become?”

Anna knelt beside him. “You’re a man who’s still loved,” she said softly.

“Even now, even here.”

Eli put a hand on his old boss’s shoulder. “Let’s go home,” he whispered. “All of us.”

That night, the three of them sat around Anna’s kitchen table—the same one where her day had begun.

The kettle sang again, the clock ticked steady, and prayer filled the room like the scent of bread baking.

No one spoke for a while.

But peace had found its way in, like dawn through a cracked window.

Eli looked up finally. “I thought I came to end something,” he said, voice low.

Anna smiled. “No, son. You came to begin something.”

And outside, morning broke again—brighter than before, as if heaven itself had whispered:

“This is what faith can do.”