The Eccentric [Draft]

Chapter One

The Eccentric

Chapter One

I despise the very existence of humanity.Taboo,yes,but awfully true.Now do not be mistaken.It is not the people,individually,that I hate.It is them as a whole entirety together,the coherence,the body you could say.That is what I hate.Watching them, synchronized,crawl across the face of our planet like minuscule ants.Ants with no purpose other then to serve their queen.Serve her until,eventually,they die.Besides,when their not serving their deity they are busy quarreling over the silliest of things.Wars over religion,blood split over the color of each other's skin.As if these things really mattered. Oh,yes,humanity is a ever so violent plague.A pest overpopulating Earth and feeding off her like a leech.Then again,I,Beatrice Jacob Ceaser,am one of them.
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It was on a Sunday morning when I could of sworn I had seen the devil enter my church halls.

"Open  your books to Matthew 4:1." Our preacher,whom went by the name of Father Glendor,spoke.He then took a brief pause,inhaled one quiet breathe,and then proceeded to do what a preacher did best,preach.Thou did he not speak of any useless drivel,but he spoke the words of god,straight from the biblical text itself.He,Father Glendor,had the voice and mannerisms that I suppose any old  pastor would have obtained over their years of worship.His voice rang down the rows of pews,loud and strong, with my neighbors and folks in satisfaction at the words he mused.They rolled off his tongue like a well rehearsed melody and if you hadn't of asked you would of assumed he had sang the song many times before.Every time his voice reached its peak,he'd emphasize,either by raising a hand to the sky or gripping the old wooden podium until his knuckles grew white.He'd usually take a pause before speaking again,scanning the pews of people seated before him.If it was anything less,he sure looked the part.He was a ripe white with a nude sheer spread out across his cheeks,which were hollow and riddled with canals and ravines.They applied to his face like a crack across a old glass window and his two little dimples was the only lasting evidence of emotion he had left,other then the smile he wore at the door on a Sunday morning.
He was a good man,like most folks here in this room,good men and women I'd assume.For any sins they'd done would have been forgiven by brunch.
Across the isles they say like chicken in their rows,in their finest clothes.The farther back you went the dirtier the thumbs as my father said,but I only thought he said that because he was a farmer and our farmer hands were never clean except for round supper.
In front of me,almost tall enough to block my view was Mr.Gottleib,the German.He was wearing his Sunday black,a midnight black,and had his whiskers groomed to a fine point on either side of his mustache.He sat with his hin up high and his bible in both hands.He was a religious man,as were most,he knew most verses and many biblical hymns.He was a school teacher and taught well,at least that's what my brother told me.He was quit fond of the German I suppose,as he would always bring home foreign tales to the dinner table.But I never complained,they were riveting and marvelous.Germany seemed like a hop,skip,and a jump away when I heard him recite German words.Then my mother would shush him and complain."Those silly ideas in your brain,they will drive a common man mad!" She always would say.But that was mother and mother was a worrier.

I scanned the pages of my bible,reciting the texts as vividly as everyone else did.But something was littering my thought,tying my brain into knots I couldn't undo.They were tight like a hung man's noose.I swallowed the saliva building up under my tongue,my throat threatening to push it back up.

"Joseph,I feel ill."I whispered to my brother,fanning myself with one hand.He cocked his head at me in confusion."Pardon?"
"I said," I took a breath,"I feel ill!" I whispered a little bit louder.

"Shush up." A lady beside us scolded.She was plump and round with blushing cheeks and a small nose.Her hair was trimmed short,a new stray chestnut curls here and there.She was a baker by the name of Mrs.Hollot,and she was stiffer then a hickory stick.
"I apologize,it seems my sister is feeling under the weather." My brother flashed her a devilish smile.Which got a giddy little laugh out of the baker,then her eyes landed on me and her smile disappeared."Well go on,no use getting sick all over the churches floor,go on!" She shooed me out of the pew.I looked back for my brother but he was already gazing back at the stage.I pursued my lips together and gripped my skirt,rubbing the clothe beneath my fingers in irritation.I Then turned on the heel on my boots and marched out of the church.