I feel a change in the stale prison air. Do you sense me Lily? Are you thinking of me as I am of you? Soon my flower. Soon.
The frazzled visitor in my cell has come to me for redemption. There is no need for me to acknowledge his failure for he wears it upon his head like a dunce cap of shame, heavy and burdensome. Instead of words of anger and threats of punishment, I decide instead to bless him with a memory of mine. One I am most fond of.
My visitor is smart enough not to mistake my silence as a lack of anger, but instead to interpret it as an act of grace.
"Today is the day my friend. The day that I will see her again." I tell him with a fond smile.
I take my disciples hand and gesture for him to have a seat on my thin prison cot.
Although I am already aware of what his answer will be, I ask him anyways,
"Have I ever told you the story concerning the first meeting of Lily and I?"
He stares up at me with eyes full of apparent regret and longing. Regret over his recent mistakes. Longing for my hand to caress the crown of his head and assure him he has my forgiveness.
We both know he'll earn no such mercy from me.
Instead of pleading, he answers simply and with a voice full of obedience and respect.
"No sir, I have not, sir."
It is only because of this blatant act of compliance that I will spare his life. Though I'll not tell him as such until the end of my story. It pleases me greatly to see him sitting there, sticky with sweat and nervous energy, not knowing if he will live or die.
I pace back and forth on the cold, stone floor as I begin my tale.
"I knew the day that she was born that My Dear Sweet Lily would be special. Her mother, Edith, I felt quite differently about."
"She came to our compound as a young brat during the time when my father was still head Elder. There wasn't anything note worthy about the day of her arrival, for she was as pretty as a dull penny. All she wanted was to be a follower like the rest of our family. Edith's craving for love and acceptance was as vast and bottomless as a dark pit, never to be filled. It made her weak, ready, and willing to be molded into a clique' where she felt like she belonged."
The memory of Edith gives me pause. To say it wasn't noteworthy probably isn't a correct assessment of the recollection. Although I didn't know it at the time, it was in fact, the first day of the rest of my life. Considering that Edith was the birthing house of My Dear Sweet Lily, I shall rephrase. I guess you could say she was...marginally acceptable.
I do not share these thoughts with my visitor. He is not worthy.
I continue my pacing.
"Where was I? Oh yes. 8 years go by and little Edith has grown up to be quite the little whore, getting herself knocked up. No surprise there, considering how many times she spread her legs for me and many others, at the promise of love. Always trying to screw away the insecure voices in her head planted there by her father. Pathetic. She at least got something right when she birthed Lily."
With a sigh of annoyance at my rambling, I continue.
"I remember the day as if it were just yesterday. My father had passed not too long ago, making me the head Elder of our growing family. Every day we were getting new recruits and it was my responsibility to open up their minds to the true nature of the world we lived in."
YOU ARE READING
Wild Thing
Mystery / ThrillerLily Calvinson grew up on a compound that would later be described as "the cult of the century." Followers were taught obedience, that God was their enemy, and any interaction or affiliation with churches, Bibles, or Christians could be punishable b...
