Whisp

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 I

"...speak hope and favor upon my life. In Jesus' name, Amen." I prayed, I always pray. I'm still not certain if its because I want to or because of what my family's teachings taught me. its been years of me doubting my beliefs, hesitating every Sunday spending long hours self-convincing just so I can pick myself up and go to church just so I wouldn't make mother worry. Last night I turned 18, and at this point praying, even if faithless, is what is keeping me sane and in my right mind. it gives me a sense of reality when everything around me is shifting and morphing into my unknown fate.

As always I put on my church dress, floral and generically pretty, most importantly modest, I wouldn't want eyebrows raised at the exposure of my calves.

I live in Augusta, Kentucky. a small town with an even smaller population number. last time they counted we were roughly 1200 Augustinians! now I get to my point, my point is that there is no point in living here, in forcing myself to live here. in fact, I hate it here. I'm 18 now I should be independent, I should be able to run off with a gypsy and shave my head. maybe get a couple of pornographic tattoos. but I can't because of one thing; family.

My family members are very close, even if we aren't always on the same page. or actually, even if we aren't on the same chapter, the same book? okay, we fight a lot. but all families fight a lot so it's better I live with it. ever since I was young I was taught that without faith there is no point in one's life. my parents both spend most of their time at church, multiple churches actually. my father is a preacher man and he travels around neighboring towns with my mother to share his religious knowledge with what he calls 'infidels'.

I check my watch and it reads 12:30, I'm already late. but since our house is right next to the church it shouldn't be such a big deal. I quickly take a glimpse of what I look like in the mirror and go on my way. I step out and head directly to our neighborhood church. it's just a block away from it only takes a minute for me to get there.

its a small church, enough for the residents of our neighborhood, which by the way only holds the shocking number of 12 households, and you guessed it, Christian households. you can't escape god in this town.

at the door, I'm greeted by father Tobias Haywood, a man of many occupations. in the past 10 or so years, he's been a pastor, plumber, and our very own local photographer. he has a thing for the letter P.

"good noon Annamae," he says loudly with a smile stretched along his face, he always has his hands crossed behind his back, its a posture thing.

"to you too, father" I give him a smile back as I walk in after he gestures for me to enter.

to be continued...