Church of Cannibalism

Children of the Corn

"Train up a child in the way he should go, Even when he is old he will not depart from it" ~ Proverbs 22:6

"What the fuck is wrong with this church?" I whisper while raking my hands through my loose hair.

I recalled the sight of everyone around me drinking the blood in the clear cups and drowning it like it was nothing. Like it was pristine water from an oasis, and the people were stuck in the Sahara Desert for months before coming across the water.

Everyone is the damn Church drank the crimson like they lived off of it.

No hesitation from none of them.

Not even a single thought from Ethan and Des.

How is that normal?

I slowly crumpled to the floor, with my thoughts, and put my head down on the cold, gray concrete floor. I raked my hands through my hair and let out a silent shriek. I wanted to cry but I was in too much shock. I wanted to blame someone, but nobody was here. I clenched my teeth together, so hard; I was surprised they didn't break from the pressure. I closed my eyes shut and dared not to open them again; until a thought slithered its' way into my mind.

What if the blood, was human blood?

I opened my eyes with a gasp and looked at my shirt. I didn't want to think that Grace or Abraham (or anybody) would be capable of killing someone and then using their remains in the Church. How could someone go and kill people of the Church and continue with their lives as if nothing ever happened?

It's absurd! Why would anyone do that in a community like this?

I instantly threw away my thoughts and thought it could be something like goat's blood. I read somewhere that some Churches use goat's blood; so it would really feel like you were drinking Jesus' blood.

The more I repeated the goat's blood to myself; the calmer I could feel myself getting. I even found it possible that my eyes were playing tricks on me and my taste buds were out of whack.

I took three deep breaths while slowly getting up from the floor. I pushed my black hair behind me and looked at the crimson shirt on the floor.

Maybe, I'm right about it being goat's blood.

Maybe.

Or maybe not.

Three hard knocks on the door yanked me out of my trance and I whipped around to face the door.

"Sarah? Are you almost done?" Des sounded from outside the door.

"Yeah! Just give me a minute" I answered looking for some shirts.

I walked over to one of the box on the box pile and opened it.

Inside were shirts galore.

It must have been straight from my closet because most of it had clothes I would wear. There were KISS concert shirts, shirts with food stains, and shirts with comedic comebacks on them. I picked up a shirt and used it to wipe the leftover goat blood off of my chest. After I was done, I threw it to the boy's side of the room and continued my search.

I picked up a random shirt but the smell hit me harder than it did in the box, after I picked it up. It had smelt like an entire European Night Club found love in a hopeless place; and the only evidence was that shirt. Another shirt smelled as if there were no more toilet paper in the bathroom stalls; so they took off their shirt and 'made it work'.

Deciding not to search through that box anymore, I pushed it to the side and opened the box underneath it. Upon opening, I found a black shirt that said, 'Jesus Is My Homie' in white lettering. I slipped it over my petite frame and saw that it was two sizes too big. I felt around in my back pockets and found a hair tie. I took the hair tie, made a ponytail with the back of my shirt, and tucked the rest of it under my shirt; so that the shirt was no longer baggy in the waist area.