Part 1 Discovery
I was walking home with my only real friend Carl, a fellow Atheist I’d met online miraculously by total coincidence. We were keeping this a complete secret because I couldn’t have imagined what would happen if we were exposed. The community was literally more tight-knotted than Salem in the 1600s, and I cannot emphasize enough how shocking seeing this was for us…
We’d had a nice day out in town together, Carl and I, spending most of the afternoon riding the ferryboat down the sights of Magdalene River. Now, however, the streetlights were just flickering into constellation in Maple District, a significantly remote, broad range of modest sanctuary houses where the most respective zealots "reflected intimately with God to inherit His strength & callings." Thus, apparently not expecting anyone, Phylis and Henry were lost in undressing, fervent kissing in careless, impatient stumble through her townhouse threshold. We, too luckily, had been guarded by the dark aarangement of trees beneath a shady highway underpass that granted an indirect, surreptitious glance at the two feverish hypocrites.
"What do we do?!" Carl exclaimed heatedly.
I threw my hands in midair uncertainly, masking panic. "We aren't doing anything wrong," I reminded. "So we should continue walking>"
"But they might see us!" Carl argued incredulously.
"That's their problem, Carl, not ours. They're the ones getting themselves into trouble," I stood pridefully, beyond disgusted by the two zealots whose coalitions socially disenfranchised nonbelievers like us. I boldly moved indifferently forward almost perfunctorily, like nothing had changed, and Carl reluctantly followed.
But a few steps more and I'd eyed a stack of pink envelopes placed neatly on the hammock in Mrs. Donning's porch just before they smartly flicked off the porch light, having disorderly slammed the door behind them andsealed the half open blinds. My curious eyes fixated passionately, and with an animalistic hunger I carefully huddled inconspicuously down her short driveway, took the letters, and scurried off with, eventually, Carl indignantly beside me. "Yes!" I congratulated myself.
"Alyssa, have you lost it? You just broke the law by stealing her mail!" Carl scolded, frustrated. "What are you thinking interfering like that?" (Notably, Carl is 18, a senior, and probably naturally inclined to act wiser than me - whom he considered intelligent but reckless.)
"So? They deserve it!" I snapped defensively, and we stopped walking half a mile later in front of Flyleak Park since I had to go west to the bus station, and he east, to the catch the tram home. We had a safe 15 minutes to spare though, so tossing all but one letter in my bag, I ripped one the first of the set fast to a neatly-folded, typed letter, which I read in a mocking romantic tone. "Dear Henry, Oh my love, I wish I could spend the entire day with you instead of Gregory, who bores me more discourse with each day. I cannot express enough regret that I married him ten years ago, but this past year's been splendid with you...."
"Okay, that's enough!" intercepted Carl. "That's beyond fucked up, I know, and it make me so mad, too, but you've got to hide that ASAP. Go catch your bus, Alyssa."
I actually nodded ahreeably, searching the area with prudent eyes. "Yeah, we better get out of here. Be safe, Carl, call when ..."
"I get home. See ya," he nodded relievingly, waving me off.
And we parted our separate ways, an explosion of emotions perching our every thought.
Believe it or not, the next day even more unpredictable things happened.
I woke up at the crack of noon after what sleeping 12 hours of felt sleeplessness. Immediately, I instinctively checked my night stand for those letters. I had decided to get a full night's sleep before scanning through them so that my mind could have time to deal with the shock, as I wanted to be as sharp as possible. So I hurried impatiently trough a quick sandwich and apple and brought up a glass of juice to my bedroom and began reading what made my heart race jittery adrenaline through my veins near painfully:
Oh, Phyllis, my dearest angel, I'm so sorry we haven't met alone in almost a month! Please don't take it personally. I've just been so busy and we mustn’t be rash in planning each meeting; we'll be doomed if we get caught - you know that better than I...
That's how all of them sounded in jest: like articulate addresses of complimenting fondness between each line, their outstanding extroversions transcending onto the inscriptions of these secret exchanges. Sickened as I was, I couldn't stop myself from finishing, but midway my mom knocked on the door, startling me. "Alyssa! Your friend Carl from Youth Group is calling!" Mom came in and handed me the phone. His tone was trembling in fear.
1. Your practice must have vigorous zeal, heed professional appraisal to the Lord, whom longingly prevents harm to them and yourselves respectively. Try to act vicarious, relating is a great route of impressionable professionalism, and help them associate their lives with the “Lord’ Jesus Christ, for he is the guiding light of responsibility to structuralize religious, and social role-assignment.
2. Demonstrate the illuminative resurrection of whom we know so well the Messianic Christ with distinctive nature; remember, they are less educated than us and live a simpler, primitive setting. Not withstanding, make plain justification your life is shown proof [Joseph: and this they call easily obvious) the enlightenment in a seeker for Christ surpasses, for example, the endearment Mohammad's mortality tempts.
3. Galvanize them, most essentially, in readied, cognitive monopolization of Christianity, and to campaign, crusade if possible, across their villages a succeeding exaltation, if it's the league of power God permits to his name. Explicitly - and this may sound a bit harsh - the eradication of anti-Christian forces at works is of classifiable vitality for, whether be it any number of them is well or ill-intended as a person, they instrumentally fracture the serial continuity of Christian perpetuation in exchange for a disbelieving, blasphemous rejection of God & morality to most of the time prevent afflictive chaos on others. Thus, every landscape we touch off our soil, not just in Sudan, we as Christians must be a constant acceleration of force in uniformed movement. Imperative is that students and faculty will be successful in vanquishing “marginal, nonbelief error” taken for granted in too many urban areas; and we will be massively rewarded by the Lord, as we always are for our fearing obedience and reverence […]
I couldn't believe my eyes as I read how radical the hypocrite was to disguise herself. I gotta say I was pretty dumbfounded at first after reading that list of commands. It certainly was damn succint in warning any potential volunteers what they were in for, that's for sure. (That was probably exactly why she'd included such a whopping attachment.) Obviously I had never wanted to go on this stupid mission myself, but there'd be hell to pay from the rents if I even tried refusing. There was no sneaking around it all either, because this mission had bene in the works between local youth groups for awhile now, and my parents were very active in church affairs. I may have already turned 18 last month, but I was still in high school and had zero means to do anything but keep my parents content -or be homeless.
I stood there, paling paper-white as I considered everything that had gone down last night. I tried not to reveal my abnormal reaction to this thing, saying I had to do some how homework, and called Alyssa right away with the news of it.