Alphabet Soup for the Tormented Soul

by Tobias Wade

  Our family was not originally from the city. We were forced to move here when Dad’s job transferred him from a small Midwestern town to their main headquarters. My parents had not wanted to come to the city. Their whole lives, Mom and Dad were devout followers of Christ. Their social circles and spiritual well-being revolved around their church. Being pulled away from this and thrust into a whole new environment was a death sentence to them.

  Faced with no other choice, they rented a small apartment in the city Dad swore it was temporary, and so they barely made an effort to decorate or make the place feel like a home. After a year in his current position, he would request a transfer elsewhere. Far away from the city. Closer to like-minded folks.

  To them, cities were havens for the godless, liberal-thinking heathens. Those who supported rampant fornication of the youth by providing birth control and condoms. Those people who tolerated and even accepted the abomination of men fornicating with men! Women with women! Those who would accept their diabolical lifestyles of debauchery. Illegal immigrants dealing drugs and seeking to rape and pillage! Prostitution! Makers of pornography! Modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah. You name it, the cities supplied these sins in spades. My parents were closed-minded bigots and I hated them for thinking like this.

  Most importantly, they didn’t want Barb and I to fall into the temptation these places provided. They made it their mission to find the most traditional, hard-lined, and conservative place of worship the city could provide. Jumping from church to church, they could not find this place until Minister Meisberger approached them outside on the steps of a church they’d just attended. The Minister invited them to a special meeting at the community center, promising to bring them the closest to God anyone on Earth could ever get..

  They attended several meetings with the Minister and joined Meisberger’s church with a renewed religious enthusiasm. Meisberger’s word became the law in our home and in our lives.

  Major changes were made in our household. All colored clothing was to be removed from the home; only black clothes were allowed. Colored clothing was the uniform of the ‘Unwashed’. To stand out was sinful. Black was a reflection of the darkness in man’s soul.

  Our televisions, computers, and electronic devices were sold off. These tools of sin were used to spread misinformation, propaganda, and entice deadly sins by providing easy access to online shopping, gambling, and pornography.

  Barb and I were pulled from school. Schools were the breeding grounds to spread the agenda of the Unwashed. Other children living in sin would influence us to sin with them. Our teachers would instruct on blasphemies and profanities spread under the name of science. Our education was now in the hands of our parents who taught us from a curriculum approved and created by Meisberger, based upon his religious teachings.

  As you can imagine, Barb and I were not thrilled with the major changes in our lives. I refused to give up my television and Xbox, my tablet and computer. Everything I owned that once provided me with happiness, entertainment, or social interaction was taken. The only form of entertainment we were allowed was a copy of Meisberger’s Bible. My protest over the loss of my stuff was met with a firm slap across the face from my father, a man who had never raised his hand to me before in his life.

  It didn’t hurt so much as it surprised, shocked, and embarrassed me. It stung not only on the physical level. It hurt my soul. Overnight, the man who I respected and loved become a man I feared and loathed. .

  Barb had a much rougher time getting accustomed to our new lifestyle. She missed her friends and often snuck out of the house to visit with them. She would return with contraband books and an iPod Nano she could hide easily. Mom and Dad would be asleep when she left and when she returned. Her nightly excursions went without issue for a while, until she pushed her luck too much and was caught.

  Barb came home to find herself face to face with my mother who'd gotten up for a glass of water. Mom woke Dad, and the first of many explosive arguments began. It awoke me from my sleep and I crawled out of bed to see what was happening. Barb roared at them, calling them religious zealots, and told them Meisberger was ruining our lives.

  At the mention of Meisberger’s name, Dad reeled his hand back and smacked Barb across the mouth even harder than he had hit me. Barb fell backwards across the kitchen and hit the tiles with a thud. She held the side of her face. Her eyes were wide, and her jaw dropped in shock. I could relate well to the feeling. Without another word, Barb charged into her bedroom and slammed the door shut behind her.

  Her blasphemous items were later discovered when Mom went through her room. She hadn’t come home for days and my parents were furious with her. The day she returned, Barb was obviously under the influence of alcohol and raged against my parent’s mistreatment once more. This time Mom dealt the punishment. She rained down blows on Barb’s head with opened hands and closed fists alike. Barb curled up into a ball as the blows continued. Barb threatened to go to the police. This is where my father, who had been watching, truly lost his mind.

  To invite a contrarian authority to the Congregation into a man’s home or business was a major sin. The Man was the leader of the home and the only one allowed to interact with the outside world. God created Man to rule the home and lead the family. Man was strong, resilient, and the rightful disciplinarian. Woman was to bare as many children to Man as possible, raise those children, and maintain the household.

  Mom reacted to Barb’s threat by really hurting her. Mom kicked at her. Barb instinctively reached out and pushed our mother into the wall, then made an attempt to escape. Dad caught her before she could reach the stairway. Barb howled and screamed for help. Some neighbors came out of their apartments to see what was happening. They were Hispanic, or some other type of non-English speakers. Dad told them she was trying to run away, and it was a good enough an excuse for them to let it go. It was a family spat, nothing new in a big city. Someone screaming, yelling, and carrying on like a crazy person was par for the course.

  Dad dragged Barb by the hair back into the apartment. He tossed her through her bedroom door and closed it behind him. He called out for me to get his toolbox and I complied, not wanting to incur my parent’s wrath. Dad installed a lock on the outside of her door and trapped her inside.

  Barb was a prisoner in her bedroom. Mom gave her a bucket to pass her excrement and urine. She was fed twice a day and given a bottle of water to sustain herself. When she began screaming, Dad put his foot down. He grabbed my arm, shuffled me to Barb’s bedroom, and told her that if she didn’t calm down, her punishments would now be inflicted upon me.

  To prove his point, Dad twisted my arm until I was begging him to release me. Barb’s reply was nothing short of a disaster.

  FUCK YOU!, she seethed through her teeth and flung a plate of food at my father’s face, hitting him in the mouth. The plate crashed to the floor shattering and sending food everywhere. I only caught a glimpse of Dad’s face before running for cover.

  He burst into her bedroom and slammed the door behind him, shaking the apartment. But even through the door I could still hear the sound of his slaps and punches hitting flesh. The louder Barb cried out, the harder the beatings got, until finally she went silent. Mom entered the room and escorted Dad out. There was blood on his knuckles and on his face. Barb was laid out across her bed. Her nose was bleeding. Her face was red and welted. Her lips were puffed, cracked, and bloodied. She wept, sobbing silently.

  Everything settled down after that. Barb, fearing her punishments would be dealt upon the both of us, went along with her chores, Mom’s spiritual lectures, and prayers. She shambled expressionless through it all, dead inside, resigned to her fate.

  She confined herself in her room, preferring the isolation. I did the same. Our house was quiet all the time, now. While Dad was at work, Mom focused on her religious studies and teaching us our lessons. It was the most miserable experience in my life, but I was too afraid to stand up for Barb and I.
Dad’s anger and fury was not something I wanted to experience again.

  Two weeks after the blow up, my parents told us we would be moving to join the rest of the Congregation. Barb tried to hide her reaction to the announcement. Tears and the defeated look on her face couldn’t hide her feelings. Within the week, Meisberger came to our home and my parents handed him over a check for their life savings. He shook Dad’s hand and nodded his approval to my mother (There was no male/female touching allowed). He thanked them for their tithe and promised that their donation would reserve a place for our family at their Congregation’s living quarters and a “seat at the right hand of God’s dinner table in the Grand Kingdom of Heaven for the Feast of One Thousand Souls”. Bidding them farewell, he told us to await his phone call while preparations were made.

  One more week passed before the call came. God had blessed Meisberger with a vision of the Congregation entering God’s Chamber. We were told to dress in our best clothes and to meet with him at a certain address exactly one hour before midnight. My parents were giddy with excitement and expected us to join in their celebration. Barb plastered a fake smile across her face and excused herself to the bathroom. All her “joy” had overwhelmed her.

  We had a traditional meal of white rice, baked potatoes, and grilled chicken. Bland food to not entice us into gluttony. Before the meal had finished, Dad handed Barb a pill and demanded she swallow it. He said the Minister ordered it.

  She couldn’t hide her quivering lips and shaking hands. Thick, watery tears slipped down the sides of her cheeks. She shook her head and begged our father for mercy. He gave her a look. It simultaneously terrified her and subdued her into obedience. Barb swallowed the pill. Mom forced her to open her mouth and show her she’d swallowed it.

  An hour later, Barb was completely out of it. She slurred her words and had issues with knowing what was happening. Mom told her it was normal and not to worry. Barb fell asleep in her chair and Dad said it was time to leave. He hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried her out of the apartment. Her limbs dangled over his shoulder limply. She looked dead except for the uncomfortable twitching of her face. We got inthe elevator and went down to the parking garage.

  Following the Minister’s directions, we drove out of town to the meeting location in the suburbs. Barb was muttering in the backseat, half conscious. ‘Police’, ‘cult’, and ‘scared’ were the only words I could make out. Fearing for her safety (and mine) I asked my parents to explain the passages of the ‘Oscuro Perpetua’. Dad told me about the Second Coming of Christ and the events of the Book of Revelations. That the wicked would be punished with the Second Death. He continued onward explaining. I wasn’t paying attention. I was consumed with thoughts of escape attempts. Flagging down strangers for help? An hour before midnight, there weren’t many cars where we were heading. In the city, there had been escape chances earlier at stop lights with people right outside the car doors. But I couldn’t bring myself to abandon Barb; she still wasn’t in her right mind.

  Upon arriving at our destination, Dad parked the car in the lot of what used to be a supermarket. Across the street stood a dilapidated, crumbling building. All the windows were broken, and glass littered the pavement. It looked like it hadn’t been used in years.

  I asked my parents if this is where we were going to be living now. They confirmed this suspicion as we stepped out of the car. Walking Barb with an arm around my shoulder, she was able to stand on her feet with some support. I wanted to protest going into the building. It scared me, and seemed like it could collapse any minute.

  Mom said the Minister purchased the abandoned building from the city. It was to be renovated and made into the headquarters and living area for the Congregation. We were to be officially welcomed into the Congregation. And most importantly, to witness God’s return to Earth. We walked into the dark courtyard and the features of the building became clearer. The square windows were broken and boarded up with plywood. The remains of two metallic chimneys leaned against the wall where they hung by a few pegs. Overall the place was a horrid dump, unfit for human habitation. And this was to become my new home.

  At the front door, my father knocked twice and then another six times. The screeching locks filled the empty silence of the night like a screaming baby. We were the only souls around for miles. No buzzing of the city life. No cars. No people. Nothing. My senses were going into overdrive as each little sound was a new danger coming for us.

  Meisberger greeted us. He wore a priest’s black clergy shirt with a black collar instead of the traditional white along with a black jacket. He apologized for taking so long to open the doors. It was old and needed lubrication. I felt relieved when I saw people standing in the room behind Meisberger. The men stood at one side of the room, the women on the other. Among them were children and teenagers. All were dressed in black. Their faces were lost to me with so many of them staring back.

  “Before we begin our journey to God’s Chamber, I would like to propose a toast,” Meisberger said. If it seemed like a request from the Minister, it was a direct order. A young woman carried a tray of wine to us.

  “I thought... alcohol... was bad?” Barb slurred, recovering from the pill.

  “Blessed with my hand, this is not alcohol to consume for pleasure. This is communion. The blood of our God,” Meisberger responded, agitated with Barb’s questioning. Dad hissed at Barb and raised his hand to hit her. Meisberger placed a hand on Dad’s shoulder and it subdued his anger.

  “Tonight is not the night for violence. Young lady, please don’t take advantage of my kindness,” Meisberger said. “Now if you’ll follow me, the uninitiated must travel a different path. I must guide you through to the other side as your spiritual leader and the Emissary of God Upon the Earth,” the Minister said, guiding us away from the building. We followed Meisberger across the courtyard and to the side of the building. We reached a line of trees and walked into the woods until we got to our destination: the opening of a large sewer pipe.

  This is how we ended up in the sewers and on our way to God’s Chamber.

  After Barb vomited twice, we quickened our pace until we reached an intersection of tunnels. Meisberger turned to the left. Thirteen lit candles on each side of the tunnel marked the doorway.

  “God’s Chamber!” Meisberger said aloud and crossed himself. His voice resonated against the walls. “The Twenty-Six Flames represent the tenets of our faith. These are the guiding lights in this savage world of darkness and depravity. So long as the warmth of their light touches you, your soul shall remain pure and worthy of God’s attention and love.”

  “Praise God!” my parents cried out in unison. Barb squeezed my hand, hard.

  “God’s light is touching you,” Meisberger stated. Barb giggled and let out a bellyful of laugher. Hearing it was startling. It felt foreign. She hadn’t laughed or smiled in a long time. It didn’t make sense, especially not then.

  “God isn’t real! You are a liar!” Barb shouted

  “Trust in me for I am the Prophet, the voice of God on this Earth, savior of the Wise Unwashed. Faith in I is faith in God. Rectification 4:8 – Argento the Pontificator,” The Minister quoted.

  Barb released my hand and ran. She disappeared in the darkness of the tunnel. Dad gave chase. The sound of her footsteps splashing in the water sounded further and further away. The second set of splashing followed in a hurry, much faster than Barb’s.

  Dad dragged Barb back to us. He forced her to her knees in front of the Minister. Dad held her while Meisberger shook his head in disappointment.

  “I’m so sorry, my Prophet,” Mom apologized to the Minister. Dad frowned at my mother. Being the one in charge of the children and their spiritual evolution, Barb’s behavior reflected badly upon her, and therefore my father’s house was out of order. The last thing they wanted was for Meisberger to see Barb rebelling against their authority and his. Dad tried to stand her up. Barb remained prone in th
e watery sewer muck and cried. Mom and Dad shouted at Barb to stand. She defiantly told them to go to Hell and spit at the Minister.

  Meisberger raised a finger to them for silence. Mom and Dad immediately quieted.

  “Your faith is weak, Barbra. Trust in God. Trust in me. Or the Darkness will claim you for its whore! And I will not allow this!” Meisberger said.

  His hand wound back and struck her across the face. The sound reverberated through the tunnel and echoed far away. Barb let out a cry. Dad and Meisberger raised her to her knees.

  “That’s right! I’m a fucking whore! I want all the darkness in the world inside me like a huge cock! I’m a harlot! A dirty fucking cunt!” Barb shrieked. I stood there aghast. I’d never heard her speak this way. It sounded like a wholly different person using my sister’s lips and tongue to speak such foul language.

  “I’m so ashamed,” Mom said covering her embarrassment with her hands.

  “Do not worry, Linda. We shall save your daughter’s soul, whether she likes it or not,” Meisberger said. He went to the door and knocked on it. Two times and then another six. The door opened and a blinding light filled the tunnel. It hurt my eyes and I had to look away. Meisberger called out, “I need four men.”

  Four men came into the sewer and saw Barb in the muck. Without a word, they went to her and picked her up from the ground despite her protests. She kicked, swung her arms, and squirmed. She called out for help and I couldn’t do anything. What could I do against four men, my parents, and the Minister? Their eyes bore into me. Daring me to attempt to help my sister. Like the coward I was, I averted my eyes from what was happening and let it continue.