My dearest Papa Abel,
I hope this letter finds you well and in good spirits. I know that these are dark times for our community, but I want you to know that we are all praying for your health and safety.
I am so grateful to hear that you are finally out of solitary confinement, and you can spread the truth to those who have been targeted by the government much like you. Hopefully, even those who remain blind to truth will witness it.
My mother is also doing well, and she sends her love to you as well. She often reminisces fondly about our time on the farm listening to your sermons after a long day tending crops and caring for the animals. I know that she misses you very much, but she is so proud of the will that you show while being so far from your loving flock.
I know that you are a strong and resilient man, and I believe that you will get through this challenging time. We all know that you will return one day, whether in this life or the next, to lead us beyond the veil.
I love you very much, Papa Abel.
Yours always faithfully,
Amber Arkhaven
This was the last letter I sent to Papa Abel before everything changed. I did not really enjoy writing the letters, but my mother insisted, as did the other mothers in our community. They said that the youth gave Papa Abel strength to endure his test. The test was really the fact that Papa Abel was sitting behind bars for many crimes, including tax evasion, inciting violence, and worst of all, distributing drugs to minors.
He was sentenced to fifty years in federal prison.
As a child, I was devastated that Papa Abel was taken away from us. I had no idea that it was not normal for a child to try mescaline at the age of nine. I just remember the tears streaming down my mother’s face as the verdict and sentence were read.
But that was years ago, and despite my letters, I am a vastly different person now. I am no longer a twelve-year-old, farming while on a variety of psychedelics, listening to sermons about abstract concepts, and fawning over a man whose real name is Clyde Halladay.
I was a 23-year-old woman working at a small grocery store in a small quiet town located in the South. It was the only place where people really gathered, and I had been working there for a few years. I knew most of the customers by name, and I was used to seeing the same faces day in and day out.
One day, a new girl, named Christy started to work there. She was a young woman with dark hair, a nose piercing, and a few tattoos. She was unique from the people I was used to seeing in the town or in my life in general. Most of the people I grew up with were a cross between backwoods survivalists and hippie culture.
I was initially taken aback by her appearance, but I was also intrigued. She seemed confident and self-assured, and I could not help but be drawn to her. We started talking, and I quickly realized that she was smart and funny. We became friends, and she quickly became one of the most important people in my life.
I had never had a friend like Christy before. She was the first person who had ever made me feel like I could be myself. She did not care about my past or my beliefs. She just accepted me for who I was.
It was because of Christy that I started to realize that my life was not exactly healthy. She helped me to see that life did not end with the temple, and that I needed to break free. Slowly, I started to become disillusioned with the temple, even though I still wrote letters to Papa Abel.
We spent most of our workdays talking to one another about life outside of the small southern town we lived in. We talked about our dreams of moving to a big city, getting good jobs, and living our own lives. We swore to each other that we would get out of this small hellhole town together.
But those plans were quickly unraveled one day.
I remember her voice cracking over the intercom, cutting through the buzzing of cheap fluorescent lights and the roar of an ancient air conditioner. “Amber, come to the break room, quickly,” she said with concern.
I started to walk through the cleaning aisle. It was probably the freezer again. It was summer, after all, and the air was thick and humid. The poor air conditioner was struggling to keep up, and I could feel sweat pooling on my forehead as I walked down the aisle. The smell of chemicals hung heavy in the summer air as I got closer to the back of the store.
I opened the door to the break room, and my heart skipped a beat. There, on the television, was a familiar face. It was not the one I remembered though. The lines on his face were deeper, and his beard was gray. But the eyes were the same. Those intense, dark green eyes that had a way of captivating a person. And the smile. That slight, knowing smile that always made me feel like you were in on a secret.
It was Papa Abel.
“What’s going on, Christy?” I gasped, stunned to see the man who I knew from my childhood. The person I had been writing letters to for years. The one who had his claws so far into my mother’s spirit and heart that she would pray to his picture every day.
Christy grabbed the remote and turned up the volume on the TV. A news anchor with clearly dyed hair and a brown suit was sitting next to a shot of an older Papa Abel. He spoke with a serious tone, saying,
“At 5:00 AM this morning, Clyde Halladay, better known to many as Papa Abel, the imprisoned leader of The Temple of Natural Order, escaped custody. Details are still coming out, but it appears that he was being driven to the hospital for treatment when he managed to escape.”
“That’s him, right?” Christy asked with a look of concern. My eyes widened in shock, and my heart started to race. I felt like a rock was in my throat. I could not speak. To be honest, I could hardly think. All I could do was just nod.
“How do you lose a freaking cult leader?” Christy asked aloud, her voice filled with disbelief. The news anchor was showing pictures of Papa Abel during his trial, as well as pictures from the old farm during its peak years. The images were jarring, and they brought back a flood of memories.
I could remember the hallucinations as I picked the living and breathing tomatoes in the fields. The sound of affirmations we would chant every morning, the crackling of burning wood as my mother would dance naked around the fire with the other adult members covered in red painted symbols on their nude bodies.
Christy could see the sadness etched on my face. My eyes were dull and lifeless, and my lips were pressed together in a thin line. She knew that I was lost in my own thoughts, and that I was even more desperate to escape this town.
She got up from her seat and wrapped her arm around me. “Don’t worry, they’ll catch him,” she said, her voice firm but gentle. “No way they let him run around too long with all the horrible things I’ve heard from you.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I fished it out with a sigh. It was my mother. I could feel the conflict stirring inside of me. I hated having to fake writing passionate and fawning letters to Papa Abel, but now I would have to pretend to be excited like her that he had somehow escaped custody.
I sighed with defeat. “I have to take this,” I said to Christy. She knew that I had been starting to break away from the tenets I was taught by Papa Abel. But she also knew that I deeply cared for my mother, the only family I had ever known.
This meant that I was living two lives. In one life, I was starting to realize that my childhood had been fucked up. I had been questioning the teachings of Papa Abel for a couple of years. But in the other life, I pretended to still be holding on to every word Papa Abel had ever said. I did this because I didn’t want to disappoint my mother. She was all I had, and I didn’t want to lose her.
I walked towards one of the back doors and stepped outside into the blazing summer sun. I began to sweat immediately. But I couldn’t tell if the heat was beating down on me or my own nerves having to answer my mother’s call.
I took a deep breath and forced myself to answer the phone. “Hello, Mother,” I said.
“Amber, did you see?” she exclaimed. “And to think many called him a false prophet.”
“Mom, what are you talking about?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
“Papa Abel, he’s free!” she exclaimed. “The universe has a weird way of working sometimes, but he has escaped from the evil that wishes to silence him.”
I forced myself to sound happy. “That’s fantastic!” I said. “How did he manage to do it?”
“It was the strength you gave him through all the letters you had written to him,” she replied. “I always said that being the future was what would lead us to finally pass beyond the veil.”
I swallowed hard. The idea that my letters had somehow empowered Papa Abel to escape from prison, no matter how far-fetched, made my stomach turn and my head spin.
“I’m so glad,” I said, still forcing myself to sound happy. “I’m so glad he’s free.”
“Me too,” my mother said. “I knew he would come back for us.”
“So what happens now?”
“Me and some of the other elders have called a meeting back at the farm,” she said. The farm. I had rarely been there in the last couple of years. I often made the excuse that I had to work, but it took me back to that place full of the ghosts of my trauma.
The last time I saw it, it had been left in a sorry state. The fields were overgrown, the buildings were in disrepair, and the air was thick with the smell of neglect. A couple of members would still go there to do basic maintenance, but they were outnumbered by the weeds and the rodents. The occasional amateur investigator would try to gain access, but they would have better luck if they asked the locals from town to sneak them in.
Teenagers would occasionally sneak into the farm and drink beer in the very spot where Papa Abel would deliver his sermons. They would leave behind broken bottles of cheap beer and empty cans of spray paint, their graffiti desecrating the walls that once echoed with his words according to the members who would scrub the walls when they visited.
It was funny how no one had paid any mind to the fifty acres until federal agents came through. The townspeople just thought we were hippies growing vegetables and making essential oils. They had never known a clue of what happened there until the news and the occasional podcast highlighted all the crazy that took place while they were busy living their own lives.
I sighed and looked at the blue sky hanging above. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to make it to the farm tonight,” I said. “We have a lot of work to do at the store.”
Can’t that girl Christy do it?” my mother asked, her voice dripped with a hint of contempt. She didn’t approve of me being friends with people outside of our community. She thought they were bad influences and distractions from the lessons Papa Abel had taught us.
“I can’t ask her to do all the work by herself.”
“There are more important things than putting beans on a shelf, Amber,” my mother said. “This is a meeting called by the elders, and it’s important that you’re there.”
“But what if something goes wrong at the store?”
“That’s not your concern,” my mother said. “Your only concern is being at the farm tonight.”
I could tell that my mother wasn’t going to budge, so I sighed and relented. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll be there.”
“Good,”I’ll see you there at 8:00”
I hung up the phone and headed back inside. The TV was still blaring with news about Papa Abel’s escape, and I could hear Christy in the break room, watching it. I tried to continue with my work, but I couldn’t concentrate. My mind kept wandering back to the meeting and what my mother had said. I had a bad feeling about this.
“What did your mom say?” Christy asked, turning to me.
“We’re having a meeting tonight about it,” I said.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Unfortunately, I am. And my mom basically said I have to go.”
“Amber, he’s been gone for over a decade. Most of the members who lived at the farm have moved since,” Christy said, as the news continued to play in the background. She could tell I was going through a range of emotions about all of this. “You have to try to reason with your mom. It’s over.”
I sighed. “I know,” I said. “But I don’t think she’ll listen.”
Christy put her arm around me again. “I’m here for you,” she said. “You can call me if anything gets weird and I will rush there and fight all of them if I have to.”
I nodded, grateful for her support. I didn’t know what was going to happen at the meeting, but I knew that I would need all the support I could get.
–
The gravel crunched and spat small rocks against my car as I drove down the dark, winding road. The tree branches were overgrown, blocking out most of the moonlight. The grass was long and unkempt, swaying in the wind like a sea of green. It was quite ominous, and I could not help but feel a sense of dread as I drove, heading to meet my mom and the others.
My hand gripped the steering wheel more tightly as I could see the headlights of the other cars parked in the field next to the dimly lit building. The building was worn and weathered, with peeling paint and broken windows. The light from the windows seeped out onto the ground below, reflecting off the shattered glass below like small diamonds amongst the weeds.
So many days of my childhood were spent in this now broken-down building, hanging onto every word that Papa Abel spoke, chanting affirmations with others, and preparing my mind to be able to go beyond the veil.
I can still remember the feeling of the cold concrete floor beneath my feet, the smell of sweat and incense, and the sound of Papa Abel’s voice, booming through the room. I can still see the faces of the other children, their eyes wide with wonder and fear as they listened to his words.
I stepped out of my car and stared at the abandoned building. It was a relic I wished would be lost to time, a reminder of a past I was desperate to forget. The crickets chirped in the fields around me, and the air was hot and humid, even under the blanket of the dark skies. I tried to find a way to center myself and find a little peace, but I knew it would not come.
I took a deep breath and walked to the door. I hesitated for a moment, the thought of fleeing crossing my mind. But I knew that I had to go inside. I had to face it, even if it was painful.
I opened the door and stepped inside. The building was dark and dusty, and the sound of voices talking from within. I could smell the stale air, and I could see the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. Their shadows danced along the walls to the candles from the candles that faintly lit the room.
I saw the remnants of The Temple of Natural Order gathered in a circle, talking excitedly. The building once held almost thirty people, but now only a little less than half stood in the dusty room. I spotted my mother, wearing her long flowing tie-dyed dress and her yellow tank top. Her silver hair ran down to her shoulders, and her blue eyes beamed with a hope that had been smothered when Papa Abel had been sent to prison. It was the first time I had seen her fully smile in over a decade.
I made my way to the small gathering, my heart pounding in my chest. Between all the talking I heard a voice cut through and the others quickly became quiet as if he had pierced their very minds ordering them to silence. “Amber, my sweet child,” the voice said.
It was Papa Abel.
I could see that he had aged considerably. He was even older than the picture they showed on the news. His hair was now completely white, and his face was lined with wrinkles. But his eyes were still the same green that I remembered, and they still burned with the same intensity.
My mother pulled me into the circle and nudged me to walk over to him. I hesitated, my stomach turning with terror. I did not want to be there. I did not want to see him. But I knew that I had to.
I took a deep breath and walked over to him. He wrapped his arms around me, gripping me tightly. I was at a loss for words. I did not know how to react. I did not want any of them to notice how much I wished I were not standing in the room with Papa Abel
I could feel his breath on my neck, and I could smell his sweat. He smelled like Papa Abel, but it was different. It was like he had been gone for a long time, and he had come back changed. I just could not put my finger on it.
I wanted to pull away, but I did not. I stood there, frozen, as he held me. I did not know what to do.
“Is everything okay, my child?” Papa Abel asked curiously.
I forced a smile and nodded. “I’m just overwhelmed to see you again,” I lied. “I thought we would never see you again.”
“Amber has desperately missed you,” my mother chimed in. “We’ve all missed you and today is a lot.”
I forced myself to smile again, but I could feel the terror rising in my chest. I then figured out what had changed. Papa Abel’s eyes were different. They were still the same green, but they were now filled with desperation that I had never seen before.
I could feel his gaze boring into me, and I knew that he was trying to read me.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “I’ve missed you too.”
I forced my to continue to smile, but it felt like a grimace. My eyes were squinting, and I could feel tears welling up. I buried the emotions of turmoil deep, trying to keep them all from realizing I wished for nothing more than to be out the grasp of this fucked up cult life.
“What is the plan, Papa Abel?” I heard my mother ask. I felt a wave of relief wash over me as his attention was finally diverted from me. I was also curious to know what the plan was, too.
“We need to rebuild our sanctuary,” Papa Abel replied. “Continue where we left off.”
“But many have over the years,” I heard someone say.
“It doesn’t matter how many have left,” Papa Abel said. “As long as we have one thing, we can always rebuild.”
I watched as everyone hung onto his every word, like jagged hooks latching inside them, pulling them ever closer to him. They were waiting for him to reveal what the one thing was, and I noticed that Papa Abel’s eyes locked back onto mine.
“We have the seeds of the future,” he finished saying, staring at me.
The words left me unsettled. I felt everyone else’s eyes gaze upon me, and I did not even believe the things Papa Abel said anymore. The last thing I wanted to consider was how important I was to the future of The Temple of Natural Order.
I knew that I had to do something to end this madness. I had to find a way to contact the police and let them know that Papa Abel was here.
“Papa Abel,” I said innocently, “would you be able to give us a sermon tonight? It’s been so long, and I feel like those who are left would love to hear one.”
I smiled as I stroked his ego. “Why, yes, my dear child. We can arrange one of those before we get started with rebuilding.”
I smiled back, but inside I was seething. I knew that this was my chance. I would use the sermon as an opportunity to get Papa Abel arrested.
“I will be right back,” I said
I excused myself from the group and stepped outside. I took a deep breath of fresh air, trying to calm my racing heart. The tears of anger and sorrow fill my eyes. I pulled out my phone and sent a text message to Christy and it said:
He is here at the old farm. Call the police.
“Amber,” I heard my mother’s voice say, as it startled me, and I stuffed the phone deep into my pocket. “Is everything okay?”
I turned to face her; my face wet with tears. “Everything is fine,” I said, sniffling and trying to hold back my sobs.
“I know it’s a lot to process, but don’t worry, Papa Abel is back and never leaving us again.”
My phone started to buzz constantly in my pocket. My mother eyebrow raised with concern and asked, “Who could be trying to reach you at such an important time.
“It’s probably Christy trying to tell me something about work.”
I lied, knowing that Christy was trying to reach me in a panic. I just hoped she would call the police. That single text message would put an end to this madness. I could finally be free, and Christy and I could leave this town for good.
“Let’s get back inside,” my mother said, grabbing my hand firmly and tugging me back into the building. I wanted to pull my hand away, I wanted to scream from the top of my lungs, but I did not. I just allowed her to pull me back into a life I had longed to escape.
We walked back into the room, and I could already hear Papa Abel’s voice filling the run-down building.
“These have been trying times, but now, we have collectively passed the trial. The world has changed, but not for the better. It has become darker than ever, and that makes what must be done even more important.”
The crowd stood in silent awe, listening to Papa Abel preach. He looked over to me and my mother, who had found our places amongst the other members.
“We are going to make hard, but necessary choices in order to rebuild and escape this world full of technology that leaves societies in ruin, politicians who act in self-interest, and a populous that has lost touch with the actual natural order of things.”
Papa Abel’s eyes were wild, and his voice was filled with a manic intensity. He paced back and forth in front of the group, his hands waving wildly.
“We are the chosen ones,” he said. “We are the ones who will shed this world and put things back into their natural state. But we must be strong. We must be willing to do whatever it takes to achieve our goals.”
Everyone out side of me hung on to his every word. They were mesmerized by his charisma and his vision for the future.
“They think glowing screens will bring them salvation,” he said with intense vigor, his voice growing louder until it echoed through the empty, dusty corridors of the building.
“Preach, Papa Abel!” my mother shouted, fully under his thrall.
“I have been gone for a long time,” Papa Abel said, his voice booming through the room. “But now they think the future is going to be dictated by machines? No, we are not ruled by machines. We are not ruled by made up gods and their sacrificial children! We are ruled by something else! They are what is beyond the veil. They are older than any false scripture ever written. And together, you will see them like I have seen them!
He turned his head looking to the ceiling of the room, as he himself was in an altered state and living in an entirely different existence.
“Once, our seeds have become roots, and the roots become a trunk, and the trunk sprouts vines, then we usher a new age to this world. We allow the true powers of this world to cross over with us!”
I watched as everyone’s eyes widened in wonder. These words were familiar to me. I had heard them many times before, but in different forms. They were the words that had drawn me to Papa Abel in the first place. They were the words that promised a new era for the planet, a new era where we would be the ones who were chosen to be the faithful servants to those beyond the veil, who would be in control of our world for the better.
“Now, tonight begins an important journey,” Papa Abel tried to finish, but a noise could be heard somewhere outside. It sounded like it was getting closer and louder, and it was breaking the hypnotic state that everyone was in.
Papa Abel stiffened as everyone realized what the noise was: a police siren.
The door opened, and an older man with thinning light brown hair and streaks of white behind his ears walked in. He was wearing a tanned uniform that was perfectly ironed from his shoulders to his ankles. He stared directly at Papa Abel with a stern, forceful look.
“Clyde Halladay,” he said, his voice booming with authority. “Or should I call you Papa Abel?”
Papa Abel stood gazing at the man. His expression did not change much. He did not have the look of panic that I had hoped for. We all just stood there motionless as I looked outside, waiting for other squad cars to arrive.
“It’s good to see you, Sheriff,” Papa Abel said with a cracked grin.
“Well, Papa Abel, you are under arrest,” the sheriff said, returning his grin. I looked again, waiting for more police to come. There was no way that they would send just the sheriff by himself to bring in a prisoner who had escaped from a federal prison.
The sheriff laughed and hugged Papa Abel before asking, “Do you want me to read you your rights?” The small amount of relief I felt quickly dissipated.
“We have much to discuss on how we should proceed,” Papa Abel said, motioning to my mother and two others. They gathered in a circle, murmuring amongst themselves. My mother turned to me.
“We’re going to have a brief meeting, and I’ll catch up with you in a little bit.”
With that, they disappeared into the recesses of the building.
--
I found myself walking through the farm. The old structures were covered in brush and overgrown vines, giving them the feel of a historic site that had been neglected for years. The sound of water nearby reminded me of the creek I used to wade through as a child. It was one of the few happy memories I had from my turbulent childhood.
I found myself walking through the farm, my shoes crunching on the dry leaves that littered the ground. The old structures were covered in brush and overgrown vines, giving them the feel of a historic site that had been neglected for years. The sound of water nearby reminded me of the creek I used to wade through as a child, one of the few happy memories I had from my turbulent childhood.
I finally made it to the building I remembered the most. It was a small, one-story building with a pitched roof and a front porch that sagged in the middle. I had spent a lot of time inside it as a child, along with other members’ children. We would play games, tell stories, and sing songs. It was a place where I felt safe and loved once upon a time.
I looked around briefly to make sure no one else could see me entering. I needed privacy to reach out to Christy and tell her that we needed to call someone else, because it had become clear that the sheriff was also a member of the Temple of Natural Order.
The door creaked open, and I stepped inside. The air was stale and dusty, and the only light came from the small windows that were covered in cobwebs. I could see all the beds where we used to sleep at night. The scribbles on the walls where we had drawn pictures of our families and Papa Abel were still there. Our old sheets were still on the tiny beds, stained with age. I could see the dirt and mold had settled deep into the fabric.
I opened my phone and saw that Christy had called me several times. There were also several text messages from her. I started to read them from the first one, which said:
I called the police. Please call back.
The next message said:
Amber, are you there? I am so worried about you.
But one message stood out to me. It gave me a sense of hope that I could escape, but also terror that Christy would dare to try to help me in the first place. The message said:
I’m coming to get you. Meet me down the road from the entrance.
I quickly called Christy back as I exited the old children’s quarters and briskly walked to the gravel entrance to the road I turned off on. The sound of static filled my ears, and I could hear Christy mumbling something inaudibly.
“Christy! Are you there?” I said, panicked. I picked up the pace, walking down the dark road. The overgrown tree branches blocked out the moon and stars, but once I knew I was clear from anyone’s sight, I began to run.
“Christy! Can you hear me?”
“Amber,” I heard her voice reply, but her signal was too weak. I kept running. I had never run so fast. My ribs began to ache dully, and I could feel my calves burning as they were being pushed to their limit.
“Christy, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Amber…”
I shuffled my phone back into my pocket as I saw the road up ahead. I reached it and took a small break to catch my breath. I turned my head to see if I could see any sign of her.
I noticed a shade of red in the darkness. It was Christy’s car. I took another deep breath and ran again. The closer I got, I could see the older red car with all its small dents and paint missing from its bumper.
I quickly hopped inside the car and said, “We have to get out of here! We need to go to the town over and get someone to help us there!”
I did not hear the car start, nor did I hear Christy say anything. I turned to see her facing the other window, staring outside. I reached to touch her and felt something wet on my hand.
“Christy?”
“Amber, please,” she struggled to say as I grabbed her arm more tightly, pulling her towards me. I looked down to see my hand covered in a watery black substance, and the hairs on my arms began to stand. Something was very wrong.
I gasped as Christy turned to me, the same dark liquid pouring from her mouth, mixed with blood from the top half of her face She had something covering the top half of her face. The mask resembled the bark of a tree, revealing only her eyes, whose pupils were dilated. The blood came from beneath the mask, which looked as if it had been nailed to her face.
“Amber, please help me. They did this to me,” she said her voice trembling from pain and fear. “Please, get us out of here.”
“Don’t worry,” my voice cracked. “I am going to get us out of here.”
As I tried to open the door of the car, I heard something coming from the back seat. As I began to turn I felt a hand wrap around my face and a foul odor as everything started to go dark.
--
My eyes fluttered open, still blurred from sleep. I looked around and saw that I was in the same building where we had all gathered earlier that night. I tried to move, but I was bound to a wooden table with frayed rope. I turned my head and saw my mother standing over me, her face expressionless.
“Mom,” I begged, “do something.” She just stared down at me, her eyes cold and unblinking. “Please, Mom, you have to help me!”
She did not say anything. She just stood there, watching me, her face still expressionless. I felt a wave of despair wash over me. My own mother would not help me, and it wounded me deeply.
Papa Abel and the sheriff stood on the other side of me. “Amber, my child,” Papa Abel said. “The world out there has corrupted you and made you quite treacherous.”
“Let me go!” I shouted.
“I am afraid, I cannot do that. You, my child, are too important to leave.”
“What are you talking about?” I shouted, confused and angry. I tried to pull and tug, struggling to free myself. “Let me go now! I do not want to be a part of this anymore.”
“You will always be a part of this my dear daughter,” Papa Abel said as he grabbed my mouth forcing it open, as my eyes locked on to small glass filled with the watery dark colored liquid that the sheriff handed to Papa Abel. He first drank from it and his face turned sour, but then he motioned towards me with the same glass.
“No!” I shouted
“Amber, it will be over quickly,” my mother replied as Papa Abel poured the foul substance down my throat. The bitter liquid coursed down my throat, a foul taste that made my stomach recoil in horror. It burned as it traveled, like poison eating away at my insides. I could feel it pooling in my stomach, a hot, churning mass that threatened to rise and choke me.
I turned to my mother one last time, but her face began to contort and bend in ways that defied logic. Her features twisted and stretched, her eyes bulged, and her mouth opened in a silent scream. As I tried to focus on her, her face became even more distorted, until it was nothing more than a terrifying gaze.
“Mom!” I cried out, but she did not respond. I turned back to see Papa Abel, almost smiling gently at me. His mouth opened, and I gasped in horror as twisted, wet, and dirty vines began to emerge. They were a sickly gray color, and they looked as if they were rotting from the inside. The vines writhed and twisted as they emerged, and I could see them moving towards me.
I felt a strange sensation in my stomach that rose to my throat. I felt like I was going to vomit, and I struggled to keep my mouth closed. I clenched my jaw until it hurt, but I could not hold back any longer. I began to purge a black liquid from my stomach, and healthy brown vines followed it out. The vines soon became tangled and wrapped around the darker gray vines. I felt like I was choking as they tightened, almost crushing them.
I watched as they circled around and started to travel down to my mouth descending slowly down my body. I felt myself convulsing violently and my eyes began to feel heavy.
I opened my eyes and found myself standing in a vast, empty void. There was no light, no sound, and no sense of anything else existing. I was completely alone.
I looked around, trying to see if there was anyone else there, but there was nothing. I called out, but my voice echoed back at me, empty and alone. I began to feel a sense of panic rising in my chest.
I took a few steps forward, hoping to find something, anything, but there was nothing but darkness. I was starting to feel dizzy and lightheaded. I called out again, this time louder, but there was no answer.
I looked down and saw a large root protruding from the dark ground below me. I followed it, walking at first before breaking into a run. The root led me to a wall, and I could see that it was coming from a small hole on the other side. I put my hands out and felt the cold, damp dirt sift through my fingers. I began to dig as quickly as possible, both hands grabbing handfuls of dirt and tossing them to the ground below.
I soon began to see a glimpse of light, and I started clawing at the dirt more ferociously. I soon broke through to the other side and reached out, my eyes widening at the sight of millions of burning stars. I pulled myself out of the bare, wet ground, feeling as if I had climbed out of a grave. I had never seen stars burn so brightly in my life.
I turned around, trying to get a grasp of where I was. I noticed three moons hanging in the sky, and I felt a chill run down my spine. I knew nothing like this existed in the real world.
“Hello?” I called out, my voice echoing in the darkness. I did not know if anyone would hear me, but I had to try.
I noticed something else then. It was a large, dark-colored tree that towered to the clouds themselves. I could see figures standing close to it, and they looked almost human.
I took a step towards them, my legs almost limp with fear. As I got closer, I could see their ghost-white skin, and the symbols branded into their flesh from their necks down to their feet. They had their backs turned to me, and they did not even seem to notice I was there.
I took another step, and a hand grabbed my shoulder. I spun around, my heart pounding in my chest. I saw a figure standing behind me, and I gasped.
The figure was tall and slender, with the same white skin as the others. But its face was empty, with no eyes or mouth. Just a pair of nostrils that exhaled menacingly. I screamed in terror and my eyes opened as if I had been in a nightmare.
I was now standing in the room, unbound and unharmed. But lying at my feet was Papa Abel, his body stiff and cold. As if I had been dreaming all of it.
This was the last thing I remembered from that night.
Now, as I type all of this out, I must confess that this is the first time I have been allowed out of my room without supervision. I have been pretending to be compliant until I can figure out a way to escape from the others. Whatever happened that night was too much for Papa Abel’s body to handle, and he suffered cardiac arrest.
They moved his body a couple of hundred miles away in an older car that had been reported stolen. They made it look as if he was trying to drive further south, hoping to escape to South America. But it seems like the news and everyone outside of our community has lost interest.
I do not know how I will escape, but it is getting harder as I have not fully recovered from that night. I know that I have been sleeping a lot and have hardly been awake. At first, it was hours that I was awake, but then it became minutes. But I have not given up yet.
But when I recover, I will escape, but as of now I hear the footsteps getting closer to check up on me
“Mama Abel, you need to get some more rest,” my mother says.