Post by Chris Hedges on Aug 30, 2010 5:32:35 GMT -6
This story originally appeared in Black Ink Horror, issue #02.
When the Reverend Granger returned home from his afternoon walk, he found sixteen-year-old Missy Sanders waiting on his porch. She wore a sleeveless powder-blue blouse and denim shorts, her curly blonde hair held off her neck in a ponytail. Her knees primly together, she sat on the steps and stared off into the distance, unaware of the Reverend’s approach.
“Missy,” Reverend Granger said, eliciting a startled squeak from the girl. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“That’s okay,” Missy said, her voice soft and tentative. She was a shy girl. “I didn’t see you coming up the walk.”
Reverend Granger squatted down next to Missy, keeping a respectful distance. “You looked like you were miles away.”
“Just thinking. Oh, and looking at your trashcans. What happened?”
Reverend Granger glanced at his trashcans, lying on their sides near the street, garbage strewn about the lawn. He felt anger rising within, but he squashed it back down again. “This mutt has been going around the neighborhood, turning over trashcans and scrounging for food.”
“Well, the poor thing certainly has made a mess.”
“Not to worry,” Reverend Granger said. “It’s all under control.”
Missy smiled and looked away, her face flushed. She fiddled with the frayed ends of her shorts and avoided the Reverend’s eyes.
The silence stretched out over several moments. The sun was slipping quietly over the distant horizon, and shadows began to leak out into the world. Finally, the Reverend placed a hand on Missy’s shoulder and said, “Is something wrong, Missy?”
Tears began to spill from the girl’s eyes, and she covered her face with her hands. Her sobs were soft and discreet.
Missy’s pain pierced the Reverend’s heart like a hot poker. “Shhh, it’s okay, Missy. Just tell me what is troubling you.”
“I just need someone to talk to, Reverend,” Missy said, wiping her eyes with her fingers, her breath coming in hitching gasps. “I need some advice, I guess.”
“What about your parents? They can’t help you?”
Missy’s eyes widened. “No, I don’t want my parents to know. Please promise me you won’t tell them.”
The Reverend held out a hand and said, “Come on inside, Missy. I’ll make some tea and we can talk. How does that sound?”
Missy sniffled, nodded, and took the Reverend’s hand, allowing him to lead her inside. Reverend Granger’s house was small and sparsely decorated, but the wood floors and overstuffed bookshelves lent it a warm, homey feel. In the living room, Missy sat in a recliner and waited while the Reverend made the tea.
“Now then,” Reverend Granger said, handing a glass to Missy, “what could be so bad that it would have you crying on my porch steps?”
Missy sipped her iced tea, darted her eyes around the room, cleared her throat. “It’s Billy.”
“Billy Henson?” Reverend Granger asked.
Missy nodded.
“What about him?”
“Well, we’ve sort of been going out for the past month.”
“I see,” the Reverend said. Billy Henson came from a rough family, and he had a reputation as a lady’s man and a heartbreaker.
“He’s not like everyone thinks he is,” Missy said, a note of desperation in her voice. “He can be so sweet and gentlemanly when he wants to be. My parents don’t like him, though, so we have to be kind of secretive about it. I know it’s a sin to lie and all, but it’s not fair the way they judge him. I have to lie so that we can be together.”
“Is that what’s troubling you? The lying?”
“No, or at least that’s not the main problem.”
“What is?”
Missy downed half her glass of tea in a single gulp, her face reddening. Biting on her lower lip so that her voice came out slightly distorted, Missy finally said, “Billy wants to have sex.”
“Ah,” was all the Reverend said.
Missy fidgeted in her seat, fingers drumming on the sides of the glass. “I’ve never, you know, done it before. Billy has, though, lots of times. He says it would be special with me, because we’re in love and all.”
“And how do you feel about that?” Reverend Granger asked.
Missy shrugged and stared intently at her feet. “A little scared. I mean, I do love him, and I don’t want to lose him.”
“And you think you’ll lose him if you don’t have sex with him?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to think he’d break up with me over this, but he keeps bringing it up. It seems very important to him. I want to make him happy.”
“And what about you, Missy? Would it make you happy?”
Tears came close to the surface again, but the girl held them back this time. “I don’t know what I want. I’m all mixed up inside, you know. That’s why I wanted to come talk to you.”
Reverend Granger leaned forward and managed to catch Missy’s eye, demanding her attention. “I can’t tell you what to do. Ultimately, you’re responsible for your own decisions. I can tell you what the Lord wants you to do, and that is wait. The Good Book makes it perfectly clear that the act of love is to be shared only by those who are wed.”
Missy broke eye contact, gazing into the depths of her tea as if to divine the secrets of the future. “I know you’re right, Reverend. Maybe I just needed to hear it said out loud.”
“And there are practical concerns to consider, as well,” Reverend Granger said, his voice softening. “Sexually transmitted diseases, pregnancy. These things aren’t just stories you read about in the paper; they’re real.”
Chuckling to herself, Missy said, “You know, when I was a kid, my mom told me that a girl could get pregnant just by kissing a guy. Funny thing is, I believed her. For years, I thought it was the truth.”
“Parents tell their children a lot of wild tales. In fact, when I was eight, my mother told me that God doesn’t follow you into the bathroom.”
Laughter sputtered from Missy’s lips. “What? Why would she tell you a thing like that?”
“It was a Sunday afternoon, we’d just left church. The preacher had said something in his sermon about how God is always with you, he sees your every move. This upset me, and my mother didn’t understand why. Finally I admitted that I didn’t like to think that God was watching me when I was on the toilet. My mother just laughed and said, ‘Don’t worry, God doesn’t follow you into the bathroom. He waits outside the door until you’re finished.’”
Between giggles, Missy said, “And you believed her?”
“Of course. She was my mother, why would she lie to me?”
Laughter tapering off, Missy sat her glass on the coffee table and said, “Speaking of bathrooms, would you mind if I used yours?”
“Oh, not at all,” the Reverend said, pointing down the hall. “It’s the last door at the end of the hallway.”
“Thanks.” Missy started across the living room then paused. Turning back, she said, “I really appreciate you talking to me about this, Reverend. It has made me feel a lot better.”
“That’s what I’m here for, Missy.”
At the end of the hall, Missy pushed open the bathroom door and grimaced. Something smelled foul in the Reverend’s bathroom. So foul, in fact, she considered waiting until she got home. But her bladder was insistent, and she took a deep breath and shut the door behind her.
Sitting on the toilet, Missy fought the urge to gag. The longer she sat in here, the worse the smell became. It was a little like the smell of rotted meat, with something coppery underneath. She finished up as quickly as she could, flushing as she pulled up her shorts. Out of the corner of her eye, something caught her attention.
The shower curtain, a deep olive green with lighthouses all over it, was partway open, and she could see something furry inside the tub. She reached out with a slightly trembling hand and pushed the curtain aside.
It appeared to be a dog, but it was hard to tell with the head removed. Blood was puddled in the basin of the tub, and the stomach of the animal was slit open, spilling its intestines. Missy doubled over and vomited onto her feet.
Backpedaling, slipping in her own bile, she turned to run from the room and found the Reverend standing in the doorway. His expression was serene, but his pants were open, his throbbing organ pointing at Missy like an accusatory finger. He gripped a pair of scissors in his right hand.
“Reverend…what…?” Missy stammered, her voice quavering.
“It’s okay,” Reverend Granger said, stepping over the threshold and easing the door shut. “God can’t see us in here.”
Missy tried to break past the Reverend, but he grabbed her arm and shoved her back into the room. Her feet tangled together, and she fell into the tub, right next to the decapitated mutt. She opened her mouth to scream, but then the Reverend was above her, stuffing the dog’s intestines into her mouth, choking her on their putrid vileness.
“Shhh, it’s okay, Missy,” he was saying, even as he tugged at her shorts. “God’s waiting outside the door until we’re finished. He won’t know, no one will have to know.”
Missy tried to push up, but her hands slipped in the blood and she knocked her head against the side of the tub. The world went gray around the edges, and she gratefully gave into unconsciousness. The last thing she saw was the Reverend Granger lowering himself on top of her, the scissors held just above her throat.
GOD DOESN’T FOLLOW YOU INTO THE BATHROOM
By Mark Allan Gunnells
By Mark Allan Gunnells
When the Reverend Granger returned home from his afternoon walk, he found sixteen-year-old Missy Sanders waiting on his porch. She wore a sleeveless powder-blue blouse and denim shorts, her curly blonde hair held off her neck in a ponytail. Her knees primly together, she sat on the steps and stared off into the distance, unaware of the Reverend’s approach.
“Missy,” Reverend Granger said, eliciting a startled squeak from the girl. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
“That’s okay,” Missy said, her voice soft and tentative. She was a shy girl. “I didn’t see you coming up the walk.”
Reverend Granger squatted down next to Missy, keeping a respectful distance. “You looked like you were miles away.”
“Just thinking. Oh, and looking at your trashcans. What happened?”
Reverend Granger glanced at his trashcans, lying on their sides near the street, garbage strewn about the lawn. He felt anger rising within, but he squashed it back down again. “This mutt has been going around the neighborhood, turning over trashcans and scrounging for food.”
“Well, the poor thing certainly has made a mess.”
“Not to worry,” Reverend Granger said. “It’s all under control.”
Missy smiled and looked away, her face flushed. She fiddled with the frayed ends of her shorts and avoided the Reverend’s eyes.
The silence stretched out over several moments. The sun was slipping quietly over the distant horizon, and shadows began to leak out into the world. Finally, the Reverend placed a hand on Missy’s shoulder and said, “Is something wrong, Missy?”
Tears began to spill from the girl’s eyes, and she covered her face with her hands. Her sobs were soft and discreet.
Missy’s pain pierced the Reverend’s heart like a hot poker. “Shhh, it’s okay, Missy. Just tell me what is troubling you.”
“I just need someone to talk to, Reverend,” Missy said, wiping her eyes with her fingers, her breath coming in hitching gasps. “I need some advice, I guess.”
“What about your parents? They can’t help you?”
Missy’s eyes widened. “No, I don’t want my parents to know. Please promise me you won’t tell them.”
The Reverend held out a hand and said, “Come on inside, Missy. I’ll make some tea and we can talk. How does that sound?”
Missy sniffled, nodded, and took the Reverend’s hand, allowing him to lead her inside. Reverend Granger’s house was small and sparsely decorated, but the wood floors and overstuffed bookshelves lent it a warm, homey feel. In the living room, Missy sat in a recliner and waited while the Reverend made the tea.
“Now then,” Reverend Granger said, handing a glass to Missy, “what could be so bad that it would have you crying on my porch steps?”
Missy sipped her iced tea, darted her eyes around the room, cleared her throat. “It’s Billy.”
“Billy Henson?” Reverend Granger asked.
Missy nodded.
“What about him?”
“Well, we’ve sort of been going out for the past month.”
“I see,” the Reverend said. Billy Henson came from a rough family, and he had a reputation as a lady’s man and a heartbreaker.
“He’s not like everyone thinks he is,” Missy said, a note of desperation in her voice. “He can be so sweet and gentlemanly when he wants to be. My parents don’t like him, though, so we have to be kind of secretive about it. I know it’s a sin to lie and all, but it’s not fair the way they judge him. I have to lie so that we can be together.”
“Is that what’s troubling you? The lying?”
“No, or at least that’s not the main problem.”
“What is?”
Missy downed half her glass of tea in a single gulp, her face reddening. Biting on her lower lip so that her voice came out slightly distorted, Missy finally said, “Billy wants to have sex.”
“Ah,” was all the Reverend said.
Missy fidgeted in her seat, fingers drumming on the sides of the glass. “I’ve never, you know, done it before. Billy has, though, lots of times. He says it would be special with me, because we’re in love and all.”
“And how do you feel about that?” Reverend Granger asked.
Missy shrugged and stared intently at her feet. “A little scared. I mean, I do love him, and I don’t want to lose him.”
“And you think you’ll lose him if you don’t have sex with him?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to think he’d break up with me over this, but he keeps bringing it up. It seems very important to him. I want to make him happy.”
“And what about you, Missy? Would it make you happy?”
Tears came close to the surface again, but the girl held them back this time. “I don’t know what I want. I’m all mixed up inside, you know. That’s why I wanted to come talk to you.”
Reverend Granger leaned forward and managed to catch Missy’s eye, demanding her attention. “I can’t tell you what to do. Ultimately, you’re responsible for your own decisions. I can tell you what the Lord wants you to do, and that is wait. The Good Book makes it perfectly clear that the act of love is to be shared only by those who are wed.”
Missy broke eye contact, gazing into the depths of her tea as if to divine the secrets of the future. “I know you’re right, Reverend. Maybe I just needed to hear it said out loud.”
“And there are practical concerns to consider, as well,” Reverend Granger said, his voice softening. “Sexually transmitted diseases, pregnancy. These things aren’t just stories you read about in the paper; they’re real.”
Chuckling to herself, Missy said, “You know, when I was a kid, my mom told me that a girl could get pregnant just by kissing a guy. Funny thing is, I believed her. For years, I thought it was the truth.”
“Parents tell their children a lot of wild tales. In fact, when I was eight, my mother told me that God doesn’t follow you into the bathroom.”
Laughter sputtered from Missy’s lips. “What? Why would she tell you a thing like that?”
“It was a Sunday afternoon, we’d just left church. The preacher had said something in his sermon about how God is always with you, he sees your every move. This upset me, and my mother didn’t understand why. Finally I admitted that I didn’t like to think that God was watching me when I was on the toilet. My mother just laughed and said, ‘Don’t worry, God doesn’t follow you into the bathroom. He waits outside the door until you’re finished.’”
Between giggles, Missy said, “And you believed her?”
“Of course. She was my mother, why would she lie to me?”
Laughter tapering off, Missy sat her glass on the coffee table and said, “Speaking of bathrooms, would you mind if I used yours?”
“Oh, not at all,” the Reverend said, pointing down the hall. “It’s the last door at the end of the hallway.”
“Thanks.” Missy started across the living room then paused. Turning back, she said, “I really appreciate you talking to me about this, Reverend. It has made me feel a lot better.”
“That’s what I’m here for, Missy.”
At the end of the hall, Missy pushed open the bathroom door and grimaced. Something smelled foul in the Reverend’s bathroom. So foul, in fact, she considered waiting until she got home. But her bladder was insistent, and she took a deep breath and shut the door behind her.
Sitting on the toilet, Missy fought the urge to gag. The longer she sat in here, the worse the smell became. It was a little like the smell of rotted meat, with something coppery underneath. She finished up as quickly as she could, flushing as she pulled up her shorts. Out of the corner of her eye, something caught her attention.
The shower curtain, a deep olive green with lighthouses all over it, was partway open, and she could see something furry inside the tub. She reached out with a slightly trembling hand and pushed the curtain aside.
It appeared to be a dog, but it was hard to tell with the head removed. Blood was puddled in the basin of the tub, and the stomach of the animal was slit open, spilling its intestines. Missy doubled over and vomited onto her feet.
Backpedaling, slipping in her own bile, she turned to run from the room and found the Reverend standing in the doorway. His expression was serene, but his pants were open, his throbbing organ pointing at Missy like an accusatory finger. He gripped a pair of scissors in his right hand.
“Reverend…what…?” Missy stammered, her voice quavering.
“It’s okay,” Reverend Granger said, stepping over the threshold and easing the door shut. “God can’t see us in here.”
Missy tried to break past the Reverend, but he grabbed her arm and shoved her back into the room. Her feet tangled together, and she fell into the tub, right next to the decapitated mutt. She opened her mouth to scream, but then the Reverend was above her, stuffing the dog’s intestines into her mouth, choking her on their putrid vileness.
“Shhh, it’s okay, Missy,” he was saying, even as he tugged at her shorts. “God’s waiting outside the door until we’re finished. He won’t know, no one will have to know.”
Missy tried to push up, but her hands slipped in the blood and she knocked her head against the side of the tub. The world went gray around the edges, and she gratefully gave into unconsciousness. The last thing she saw was the Reverend Granger lowering himself on top of her, the scissors held just above her throat.
