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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #2144444
You cannot take back what was said.
"'Fuck my life'?" Villie took a step back from her daughter to analyze the six-year-old's means of the phrase. Church was cut short that Sunday which was something Villie always prayed for. Her mind was already jugging ninety-nine problems that morning. Villie watched as her daughter tried to open the rear, car door, but that was quickly intervened when she heard her daughter's first curse-word. "Who told you that?" Villie noticed her unnoticed and snapped her fingers quickly near the young girl's ear. "Mony!"

Mony turned around while looking down onto gravel to find a rock she could quickly focus on. "I don't know..." Mony's voice waned when she told a story so no one would get in trouble as well as her. Her brothers taught her that.

"Where did you hear 'fuck my life,' Mony?" Villie has now placed her purse on top of her modest, faded purple car and crossed over her arms. Villie looked past her daughter to see if there was anybody watching her daughter get in trouble. Baptists are known for that. Mony's mothers eyes went back to her daughter who has successfully found the scapegoat rock. Villie passes a sharp sigh through her lips and double-clicked the cars remote to unlock all four doors. Mony's two brothers climbed into the car. The eldest, being only eleven, moved faster than the other to sit next to his sister to quickly punch her in the arm. It's not, Nathaniel...

Villie started the car and sped quickly to leave the church parking lot. Gravel spun and hit the inside of the tire wells which was followed Mony's brothers hooting and hollering. Villie smiled, knowing that her sons would have never repeated something so ugly.

That following Sunday, Villie and her children wore all black to fashion what she had heard had felt. Her stratagem of home-schooling, parental guidance, a perfect diet and screening all friends and their family before her delicate offspring could even start associate with him or her has failed. The last place she had ever thought to have protect her sons and daughter from was the place she took her and her family to so God could take the grief that were bestowed on them. Every morning before church, Nathaniel reminds his mother that he will pray for his father to come back to her with kisses and hugs. Mony would repeat her prayer before going to bed for more money for her mother. And Boris would remind his mother about the time he asked for her mother to get a car so they could go to church and then she received one. Boris felt that he should save his next prayer for something more dire.

Villie face was incredibly pale that Sunday. Her eyes were vacant but occupied. Her pace entitled but ghostly. As if she was hanging on a string of faith that she knew was going to be cut from before noon. She never forgot the disgusting tone her daughter used: "'Fuck my life.'" "'FUCK' my life." "'F.U.C.K.' my life." How could she just condemn herself like that? What would make one consider themselves not worthy of something so limited. There is only one. There can only be one. To Villie, her daughter just killed herself in the eyes of the Lord. Praying would have done nothing for her. Speaking is bringing to life. And Mony just brought death upon herself and Mony is going to Hell.

Villie's lifeless walk made it to her and her family's usual seats to the front row, but not quite in the middle, for those seats Boris would save for Pastor Buzz's children. That Sunday, Nathaniel saved those seats. Boris was empathetic when it came to his mother, as all of her children were. Boris stood by the double glass doors that led into the sanctuary. Boris placed his soda bottle down and picked up the announcements for Sunday for him to pass out as the congregation began to pour into the sanctuary.

Mony was never allowed to bring her toys to church, but Villie told Mony just this once she was allowed to. Nathaniel who sat on the other side of Mony placed his elbows on his knees and his palms in his face. He was used to his brother poking him to see if he'd budge, but the situation wouldn't happen that Sunday.

Pastor Buzz walked passed Villie and smiled into her grim facade. "Good morning, isn't it, Violet?" Without Villie being able to answer he scooted his kids towards the saved seats as each of the four kids asked Villie if she has noticed the goodness of the morning. Pastor Buzz adjusted his microphone that was clipped onto his lapel and cleared his throat into it. "Good morning!"

Good mornings half-heartily filled the sanctuary.

"I-said-I-said good morning!"

"Good morning!!"

"Now, this morning was granted upon because we are all good to God. And God is good to us..."

"All the time!!"

Villie stood up making everyone including Nathaniel look at her.

"Somebody in this church killed my daughter!"

Pastor Buzz shockingly looked at the very much able-bodied Mony and shook his head in disbelief from the outburst and the lie.

"Somebody in this church killed my daughter! And I want to know who it is."

The church congregation all looked at Mony who brought her stuffed Easter bunny to her face to hide. Murmuring filled the sanctuary in horror.

Villie looked onto the frozen Pastor and returned her leer to the church. Mony's eyes filled with tears watched as her brother Nathaniel began walking from the front door of the sanctuary to the close the distance until he reached the side of his condemned sister with a hug and tears.

"And you," her neck cracked like a whip as she forced Pastor Buzz to watch the fire in her eyes. "You could have stopped this. But you know nothing about God's people."

"I-I-do! I-I-said I do!" Pastor Buzz frantically assured her as he vehemently denied.

"Oh..." Villie asked through parted lips. "Come here, Nathaniel."

"Yes! I love all of God's people! Violet, let's --"

"If you know and love God's people, when was the last time any of my kids have had a soda?" Pastor Buzz watched as Violet's pale skin reflected light like a burst from the sun. Nathaniel, stood up and threw the lit flame-resistant lighter down by his feet. As quickly as it was dropped, a trail of flames were spawn from the path Boris took. Pastor Buzz ran passed Violet, but was caught by the flame-engulfed sons. Pastor Buzz's screams were soon drowned by the crackling of the flames and the wails of his congregation.

Villie and Mony stood there quietly as they have already bestowed their grief that morning onto God and felt no pain. The screaming congregation had so.
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