unfortunate scenario(s) iv - religion edition
Nov 1, 2016 20:31:52 GMT -4
Pawzkat, katt, and 2 more like this
Post by Deleted on Nov 1, 2016 20:31:52 GMT -4
"Honey, come on. It's time to go."
A mother was waiting at the entrance to a little room, beckoning her daughter to come to church.
The girl wasn't eager to stand, with something obviously tugging at her, behind her mind. Despite how apparent it was, however, the mother did not appear to notice. "Come on. You'll make us late."
"Do I really have to go?" the daughter asked, speaking up at last.
"Of course," the mother replied, offended that was even in question at all. "It's a holy day of obligation. If you don't attend church, you'll go to Hell."
The girl hadn't seemed to be fazed by her mother's rejection. "Do I have to go?" she persisted, an intent focus visible in her face as she looked her mother right in the eye.
It was the mother's turn to be speechless. It was as if, for the first time in her pitiful life of following whatever others told her, the wheels in her own head had finally started to turn.
Seeing no response, the girl tried a third time. "Do I have to?"
The mother shook her head, apparently dismissing whatever revalation she had almost thought up. "Of course, of course you have to go. Why wouldn't you go? Come on, now. Your father will be angry if you don't come along."
The daughter seemed to sigh internally upon seeing that her mother still did not understand. She decided to keep on going. "Dad is always angry, mom," she chanced.
Once again, the look of befuddlement overcame the mother's face.
The daughter took this as an opportunity to continue. "I know you always go to the choir mass on Sundays, but I've seen Dad lector. I've seen him standing on the altar before noon mass starts, and I see the look on his face as he glares off into the distance- no doubt thinking of my older siblings who have left the church. You don't see it, but he burns with the red fires of anger. His face contorts into a look of utter infuriation. I've seen it."
She paused for a split second, but quickly decided to keep going.
"And mom, he's- He's made my sister cry for it. For something she doesn't believe in. And-" she began to struggle against the tears she just knew would be forming in the corners of her eyes and strangling her voice- "He has no right to do that. He has no right. And I won't let him drive us to pretend we believe in something we truly don't- truly can't believe in. I won't let his selfish pride drown my own thoughts and life. I don't believe in God. I don't believe in the things you've supposedly taught me. I think you're a huge hypocrite for glorifying freedom yet demonizing anyone outside your very small conservative circle. And I don't want to go to church anymore."
The mother then took many shapes.
One shape screamed, "No! Not another one! I won't have it! That's it- I'm forcing you all back to the Church. You and all of your siblings, you're all going to confession, and then church. Not one more of my lambs will ever be lost again!"
Another shape spoke as if no others were even there, muttering to herself. "No, no, no... The snake. The snake! The sign was right! God help me... I need to pray more... Pray, pray for the reconciliation of the Church...." She continued to mumble frantically into infinity. The daughter squirmed with a sort of involuntary guilt.
A third shape slowly turned around ominously until her head faced her daughter. "You're on your phone during maasss..." This shape splintered into many pieces, all swarming around each other. "I'm taking away your cell phone privileges," one shard threatened. "I'm taking away everything," another whispered, a little too close to the daughter's ear.
And then there were infinitely many possibilities.
The daughter sighed as the scenario dripped away. She stuffed her thoughts deep inside her, and she kept them there, even though they threatened to burst out at any opportunity. And she kept pretending.
A mother was waiting at the entrance to a little room, beckoning her daughter to come to church.
The girl wasn't eager to stand, with something obviously tugging at her, behind her mind. Despite how apparent it was, however, the mother did not appear to notice. "Come on. You'll make us late."
"Do I really have to go?" the daughter asked, speaking up at last.
"Of course," the mother replied, offended that was even in question at all. "It's a holy day of obligation. If you don't attend church, you'll go to Hell."
The girl hadn't seemed to be fazed by her mother's rejection. "Do I have to go?" she persisted, an intent focus visible in her face as she looked her mother right in the eye.
It was the mother's turn to be speechless. It was as if, for the first time in her pitiful life of following whatever others told her, the wheels in her own head had finally started to turn.
Seeing no response, the girl tried a third time. "Do I have to?"
The mother shook her head, apparently dismissing whatever revalation she had almost thought up. "Of course, of course you have to go. Why wouldn't you go? Come on, now. Your father will be angry if you don't come along."
The daughter seemed to sigh internally upon seeing that her mother still did not understand. She decided to keep on going. "Dad is always angry, mom," she chanced.
Once again, the look of befuddlement overcame the mother's face.
The daughter took this as an opportunity to continue. "I know you always go to the choir mass on Sundays, but I've seen Dad lector. I've seen him standing on the altar before noon mass starts, and I see the look on his face as he glares off into the distance- no doubt thinking of my older siblings who have left the church. You don't see it, but he burns with the red fires of anger. His face contorts into a look of utter infuriation. I've seen it."
She paused for a split second, but quickly decided to keep going.
"And mom, he's- He's made my sister cry for it. For something she doesn't believe in. And-" she began to struggle against the tears she just knew would be forming in the corners of her eyes and strangling her voice- "He has no right to do that. He has no right. And I won't let him drive us to pretend we believe in something we truly don't- truly can't believe in. I won't let his selfish pride drown my own thoughts and life. I don't believe in God. I don't believe in the things you've supposedly taught me. I think you're a huge hypocrite for glorifying freedom yet demonizing anyone outside your very small conservative circle. And I don't want to go to church anymore."
The mother then took many shapes.
One shape screamed, "No! Not another one! I won't have it! That's it- I'm forcing you all back to the Church. You and all of your siblings, you're all going to confession, and then church. Not one more of my lambs will ever be lost again!"
Another shape spoke as if no others were even there, muttering to herself. "No, no, no... The snake. The snake! The sign was right! God help me... I need to pray more... Pray, pray for the reconciliation of the Church...." She continued to mumble frantically into infinity. The daughter squirmed with a sort of involuntary guilt.
A third shape slowly turned around ominously until her head faced her daughter. "You're on your phone during maasss..." This shape splintered into many pieces, all swarming around each other. "I'm taking away your cell phone privileges," one shard threatened. "I'm taking away everything," another whispered, a little too close to the daughter's ear.
And then there were infinitely many possibilities.
The daughter sighed as the scenario dripped away. She stuffed her thoughts deep inside her, and she kept them there, even though they threatened to burst out at any opportunity. And she kept pretending.
