My memories were faded. Blurring away.
The days at grandma's house had always been fun. Church every Sunday, I got to see my best friend every time. We had been friends since we were four. He always made me laugh at stupid things. He could always make me happy. Some say that church is for the weak, people who need to feel better about themselves. For me, my church was about my family. My friends at church were my family. I'd die for them a thousand times. When I was fifteen, Steven wasn't at church for the fourth weekend in a row. It wasn't work. His sisters, Annie and Jenna, had stopped coming as well. When I got home I called Jason, his dad. No answer. My brother had his permit at this time. I was still a little uncomfortable being left alone with him. But I wanted to know what was going on. He agreed to take me for $5...
The house was destroyed...a pile of ashes. All that remained was just that, a pile of ashes. No names in the obituaries, in the newspapers, no announcements on the news recently. As if they never existed. They did this because they were Christian? I knew the discrimination was getting bad, but not like this. I fell to my knees.
"Steven!!" I wailed. My older brother watched me cry in silence. After thirty minutes, he told me to get up or he'd leave me there. I found unknown strength to stand. I made it to his car. He took me home. No words were spoken. We never again discussed what we saw that day. I stopped crying on the outside that day. And I forgot how to smile that day.
YOU ARE READING
America: Land of the "Free"
Historical FictionHearing your sister scream in the dead of night, you jump out of bed and grab your knife. Unknown men are in your house. You've been waiting for this day. Your family's faith has never faced a greater challenge. Only you tell the truth. "I am a Chri...
