The Roadside Psalmist by Pastor Vinod sk - HTML preview

Chapter 9: The Thieves' Demand

As the sun dipped behind the tall buildings of Millwood City, the streets grew quieter. The rush of the day had faded, replaced by the flickering glow of streetlights and the occasional footsteps of late commuters. Samuel sat on his usual spot by the roadside, his fingers gently plucking the strings of his guitar. His voice, worn yet steady, filled the night air with a hymn of hope.

Across the street, behind an old abandoned shop, a group of men gathered in a dimly lit room. They weren’t ordinary passersby. These were men of the shadows—thieves, smugglers, men who thrived in the dark corners of the city.

Their leader, a tall, rugged man named Victor, leaned against the wall, staring out of the cracked window at Samuel. For days, he had been watching him. “Every night, this old man sits there, playing his songs,” Victor muttered, taking a drag from his cigarette. “And people give him money.”

One of the younger thieves, a man called Rico, scoffed. “So what? He’s just a beggar.” Victor narrowed his eyes. “A beggar who doesn’t look desperate. I’ve seen people drop money at his feet. Yet, he never spends it on himself. He must be hiding something.” The others murmured in agreement. If the old man had savings, they wanted a piece of it. Victor smirked. “Tonight, we find out just how much he has.” Samuel had just finished his song when he felt a presence behind him. Before he could react, rough hands grabbed him and pulled him into the alleyway. His guitar fell to the ground with a dull thud.

He looked up and found himself surrounded by four men, their eyes cold and calculating. Victor stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. “You’ve been sitting here for a long time, old man.”

Samuel, though startled, remained calm. “That’s right,” he said. “And I will continue to, as long as God gives me strength.”

Victor smirked. “God, huh? Well, let’s see if He can help you now. We know you have money. Hand it over.”

Samuel met his gaze without fear. “What I have is from the Lord. It’s meant for those who are in need.”

Victor laughed mockingly. “Then consider us in need.”

Rico stepped forward. “Come on, old man. We’ve seen people giving you money. Where are you keeping it?”

Samuel took a deep breath. “What I have, I use to help others. I do not hoard wealth.” Victor’s patience wore thin. He grabbed Samuel’s collar and pulled him close. “You expect me to believe that?”

Samuel didn’t flinch. “Believe what you will. But if you take what belongs to the Lord, you will never have peace.”

The words unsettled Rico. “Maybe we should just leave him alone, boss,” he whispered. Victor glared at him. “Shut up.”

Samuel looked Victor in the eye. “Son, what do you gain by hurting an old man? What do you gain by taking from the weak? Have you not had enough sorrow in your own life?” Victor’s grip loosened slightly. “You don’t know anything about me.” Samuel gave a gentle smile. “I know you weren’t born to be a thief. None of you were.” The men exchanged uneasy glances.

Victor clenched his jaw. “I don’t have time for this.” He shoved Samuel back against the wall. “Search him.”

As the men reached for Samuel’s pockets, a sudden voice rang out. “Hey! What’s going on here?”

A city guard was patrolling nearby. Seeing the confrontation, he quickly rushed toward them. Victor cursed under his breath. “Let’s go!”

The thieves scattered into the night, disappearing into the alleys. The guard turned to Samuel. “Are you alright, sir?”

Samuel dusted himself off and nodded. “I’m fine. The Lord watches over me.” The guard frowned. “Do you know them?”

Samuel glanced toward the dark alley where the thieves had fled. “Just some lost souls. Pray for them.”

Back in the abandoned shop, Victor sat in silence, deep in thought. Samuel’s words echoed in his mind.

"What do you gain by taking from the weak? Have you not had enough sorrow in your own life?"

For the first time in years, Victor felt something stir within him—something he had long buried under anger and crime.

He didn’t know it yet, but the old beggar’s words had planted a seed in his heart. And soon, that seed would begin to grow.