“And so it was that our Lord rendered judgment upon the Doubter, saying: ‘to change thy form thus is to defile my holy design, and to sully the Divine Word is to render the world unto unnatural rebellion. Yea do I expel thee from the Kingdom of Heaven.’”
Something small and painful collided with the back of Amara’s head. A gray pebble fell down her shoulder, tumbling through her hair and into her lap. She turned about to face the thrower and locked eyes with Evander, sitting beside his parents and grinning from ear to ear. The other children sitting in the pews nearby who’d noticed what he’d done also wore grins.
Amara hated temple, but she especially hated it when the Seeker told stories about Shaitan. Her hair was black, just like him, and it always gave them a fresh excuse to bully her.
“And so it was that our compassionate Lord, with heavy heart, sent his once most treasured friend into the swallowing sands. He consigned the Sullied One and his abominable noise to the Worms, who feast equally upon dirt and flesh, where he will remain until the Closing Days to await our Lord’s Final Judgment.”
A hand descended upon Amara’s leg, and she looked towards the owner. Her mother gave her a sideways glance which entailed an entire lecture, one she’d heard so many times she could practically recite it word for word.
God has given us Grace and nothing else.
“May destiny unite us, and divide us from the forces of evil who wish us harm.”
“Destiny unite us,” the congregation murmured in response. Amara mouthed the words.
The Seeker gave the room a pleased smile. Her missing teeth and stringy gray hair made her the target of constant mockery from the children—and some of the adults, as well—though no one ever seemed brave enough to say something cruel where she could hear it. To Amara they would simply mock her to her face. She didn’t like the Seeker very much, but she did feel a kind of grudging respect for her. The Seeker exuded self-confidence, and in a strange sort of way it gave Amara hope.
“Now, why don’t we have mercy on the youngsters and end a little early today?” the Seeker said. “As is tradition, they may take Consecration first. We all know just how much they enjoy the adult conversation that comes afterwards.”
A few appreciative chuckles sounded from the congregation. Amara heard Evander leap from his seat and then watched as he sprinted down the aisle towards the Seeker, placing himself first in line. His exuberance seemed to signal that he’d thought up some new way of torturing her since last week.
The rest of the children ran after Evander and began to line up in the aisle behind him. Amara didn’t move, hoping against hope that her mother would let her stay this time, and her heart sank when she once again felt her mother’s hand on her leg.
“Go and take consecration, honey.”
Desperation caused Amara to summon up the most pathetic expression and tone she could possibly muster.
“I don’t want to,” she whined. “Please, mom!”
“Go on. You don’t have to play with them afterwards.”
Amara continued to resist in anguished silence for a few moments, but the stern look on her mother’s face made it clear there was no hope. She reluctantly slid off the pew, and trudged over to join the line of waiting children. Moments later, Evander walked down the aisle past her in the direction of the temple’s front door, holding a clump of brown sacrament bread in his hand. A devilish smirk exploded across his boyish face the moment their eyes met.
Dread filled her like water being poured into a cistern. Every Friday she hoped something big would happen to interrupt the consecration, or at least make it take longer. Sometimes she imagined the entire building catching fire, or even a plague of rats flooding in through the doors and windows of the temple like something from the Scriptures. But despite her need, no divine interventions had ever occurred.
The Seeker said the words of sacrament to the children one at a time, handing each a piece of bread once they’d given the correct response. The line moved agonizingly quickly, and soon it was Amara’s turn.
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The Seeker held out a piece of bread to her. “Remember, Amara, that though He grants you this sustenance, you are ash, and to ash you shall return.”
The smell of the offered bread caused Amara to forget her dread for a moment and remember her hunger. Her stomach growled loudly, drawing a few suppressed laughs from the adults sitting in the pews nearby, and her face began to redden. She held her hands out, now desperate to get away, and the Seeker placed the bread within her grasp. Amara instantly realized that the piece she’d been given was much larger than normal, and when she looked up the Seeker gave her a barely perceivable wink.
“I remember,” Amara said miserably, turning away to flee from the mass of embarrassment the consecration had become.
She hesitated at the door, casting a worried glance back at her mother, then froze when she heard the sound of children’s laughter emanating from outside. The type of game they forced her to play usually depended on how many of them had decided to wait for her. The more of them there were, the worse it would usually be.
There were only four waiting for her when she finally mustered enough courage to open the door, sitting in a tight semicircle on the trimmed grass just outside of the temple’s entrance. Evander was there, of course, and so were Caleb, Adin and Eylon. Together they formed the core of the cabal which was always waiting for her after temple. In their laps rested switches—thin and sharp wooden sticks, several feet long. Amara was already intimately familiar with the excruciating pain they could deliver.
Cruel smiles crossed the boy’s faces the moment she appeared in the doorway. Evander was the first to leap to his feet, followed closely by the rest.
“Look who just stepped out of our temple!” he grinned.
“The Sullied One!” Caleb hissed. “She’s staining holy ground!”
Amara took a few steps to the right, trying to get past them. The boys instantly moved to block her, forming a human wall between her and freedom. Evander raised his stick at her as if it were a sword, and the other boys followed his lead.
“It’s up to us to strike down the Doubter for good!”
“In the name of God!” Adin shrieked.
Eylon let out some giddy laughter. “We should bury her like they did in the story!”
Amara’s eyes widened with fear. They were in a dangerously cruel mood today. She briefly considered turning around to rush back inside, but doing so would undoubtedly humiliate her mother in front of the entire village. The thought of putting her through more of that kind of pain was unbearable, and Amara decided she would rather be beaten up or even buried than have her mother harmed in that way. Besides, all they’d ever done before is hurt her for a while until they got bored. She told herself that she was used to the pain, and came close to believing it.
Eylon’s idea caused a disapproving scowl to cross Evander’s face.
“No, not that. Burying’s stupid.”
“It’s the only way,” Eylon intoned.
“Let’s just beat her up,” Evander continued angrily.
The other boys turned to him and they all began to argue loudly. Amara sensed a chance to escape and threw herself at the small gap between Evander and Caleb. She clearly took them by surprise but they still reacted swiftly, swinging their switches at her as hard as they could. Pain exploded across her arms, but nevertheless she managed to muscle past the boys. Once freed she ran as hard as she could, sprinting down the dirt road which led through and out of town.
She heard them begin a pursuit, but they gave up after only a few halting steps. Evander was already far enough behind her that his voice was somewhat hard to make out.
“You scared her off, you stupid dingus!”
Tears of fright and relief poured down Amara’s cheeks as she ran. She followed the road past the homes surrounding the village square and before long was running through the wheat field which encircled town. Waves of yellow-gold flowed alongside the road beneath the breeze, and for one fleeting moment Amara felt as though she might be able to take flight and sail off into the blue sky, leaving Shiloh and Evander and all the rest behind forever.
She only stopped running when her legs felt like they were about to give out, coming to an unsteady halt beside a forgotten, rickety old fence straddling the road. She clung to it, her head hung low and her chest heaving, trying desperately to catch her breath. It took a few minutes, but once she’d calmed down enough to breathe somewhat normally she finally lifted her head. Terrific pain radiated from two long, reddish welts on her arms, both accompanied by a thin series of bleeding scrapes. The amount of blood leaking from them was small, but still enough to send a tiny trickle down her forearms and onto the gray-brown earth by her feet.
What if they’d really buried me?
The sound of far-off footsteps crunching in the dirt caused Amara’s gaze to shoot up with alarm. In the distance a lone figure was walking up the road towards her from the direction of the village, but they were too far away to make out who it was.
Unwilling to leave it up to fate, she forced herself out of her hunch and began to run once more, fleeing as fast as her exhausted legs could carry her. She was out of the wheat field in what felt like seconds, and a wall of green trees appeared ahead of her in the near distance, swallowing the road within the darkness of their shadows. Her stomach began to growl loudly even as she ran, and she realized with sudden despair that she’d dropped her bread at some point during her escape. The idea of going hungry for the rest of the day hurt so much more than the bleeding welts on her arms.