by Willow Rose
Johnny considered once again leaving and maybe trying again another day, but there was something that worried him. Something he needed to get off his chest.
"I fear I might be in danger. I fear I might get hurt," he said.
"Okay. Why is that?"
"Well there has been all these attacks on the inmates and ... well I'm afraid I might be next."
"Life is dangerous my child, this prison isn't a safe haven for anyone."
It was a strange answer; Johnny thought and wondered if he dared telling the priest about Brian and what happened to him. Johnny hadn't slept all night since the incident with the warden, afraid that the warden would come after him next. He had to know that they were buddies.
"I'm worried about a friend of mine," he said instead. "He's in danger," Johnny said. "He's done some stupid stuff and I'm afraid he's going to get himself killed or seriously hurt."
"So you feel like you should be protecting him, is that it?"
"Yes. But I can't ..."
The priest went quiet for a little while and Johnny suddenly wondered why he had come in here at all. What did he expect the priest to be able to do? Even if he told him about the warden, he couldn't stop him.
"Do you want to talk about what you did to get two years in here?"
"No." Johnny felt suddenly an eerie feeling. How did the priest know how much time he had gotten?
"Okay. But it is your third time inside and you're how old?" The priest asked.
"Eighteen."
"And how old is your brother?" The priest asked.
Johnny paused. What was this? Did the priest know about his brother?
"Sixteen."
"And you worry about him too?"
"He's more like a twelve-year-old, you know. Mentally he's not very bright. He doesn't know how to take care of himself."
"What about you?" the Priest asked.
Johnny shook his head. "What about me?"
"Who takes care of you? Who protects you?"
"What do you mean? I do. I take care of myself and my brother. I always have and always will."
"Is that why you lied to the police and told them you had stabbed that man, when it was really your brother?"
"What the hell are you talking about? I thought you didn't know anything about me!" Johnny said feeling the anger rise inside of him.
"Does it matter if I know you or not?"
Johnny shrugged. "I don't know. I guess not. I am just a little confused ..."
The priest cleared his throat before he spoke. "But I do feel like it is my obligation to tell you that you committed a grave sin when you lied."
"It was to help my brother."
"Yes," the priest said. "But now your brother is out there in trouble and you can't protect him. He should be the one in here. He should be the one who was punished for his deeds."
Johnny felt infuriated. Why did the priest suddenly meddle in his affairs? This wasn't why Johnny had come to the confessional at all.
"You need to tell the police the truth," the priest continued. "God will know it if you lie. It's wrong to lie, and protecting a criminal won't make up for it. There is no excuse for lying."
"It's hardly the worst thing you can do," Johnny grumbled, but the priest no longer seemed to be listening to what he said.
"A lying tongue is one of the mortal sins, you know," he said. "It's one of the things the Lord hates according to the Book of Proverbs. A lying tongue should be cut off. In Matthew five it says - 'so if your eye - even your good eye - causes you to lust, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than your whole body to be thrown into hell. And if your hand - even your stronger hand - causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away.'"
That was it, Johnny thought. "Go to Hell," he said, then got up from the chair. He wanted to leave, he really did and that might even have saved him from what happened next. But he didn't leave. No it was like there was something that pulled in him, a curiosity, a feeling, call it what you want, but it was something strong enough to make him grab the curtain instead and pull it aside.
The sight of the priest's grinning face wasn't what alarmed him. It was what was on his neck, behind the collar that Johnny could only see when he moved.
"What is it my son?" the priest asked.
In another wing of the prison, Johnny woke many hours later. He opened his eyes feeling his heart beat hard. He couldn't remember what had happened after he had seen the red marks and the ring surrounding them on the priest's throat. After a few seconds he realized he was back in the isolation cell. He had a terrible headache and what felt like a swollen throat. Then an indescribable pain in his mouth rolled over him and he let out a sound he thought was a word but it sounded nothing like he had intended it to. He couldn't seem to form the sounds properly. Then he was struck by a most terrifying thought.
My tongue, oh good God, where is my tongue?
THE END
NIBBLE, NIBBLE, CRUNCH
Willow Rose
1
"COULD YOU PLEASE just get out of my way?" Agnete said with irritation to her voice. Her six–year-old daughter Emma did as she was told and got up from the couch so Agnete could vacuum where she had been sitting and watching her favorite show on TV. The Powerpuff Girls whined from the flat screen on the wall and Emma stared at it as if paralyzed. Agnete sighed. Sometimes her daughter reminded her so much of a teenager already.
"Can I have some chocolate milk?" Emma asked without her eyes leaving the screen.
Agnete shook her head. "Not now. You know Mommy's busy. I have this entire house to clean before the guests arrive.
Emma turned her head and stared at her with big eyes. "Please?"
"No. Emma. It's only ten o'clock. It's too early for chocolate milk." Agnete lifted the pillows and vacuumed underneath them. Cheerios and crumbs. It was only two days since their cleaning lady Michelle had been there, still the house looked terrible. Agnete regretted not calling her to come again today, but she thought she could fix the place up herself, like she normally did before her girlfriends arrived, but the last couple of days hadn't quite turned out the way she wanted them to. The teachers in the entire country were on strike due to some disagreement about their salary and how many hours they were supposed to work a week. Agnete didn't care much about the details in the conflict; she only knew it meant her daughter had to be home instead of in school. And it meant she had to be home today of all days when Agnete held her yearly lunch for her girlfriends from the boarding school.
It wasn't very often they could meet since most of them no longer lived in Denmark anymore and if they did, they travelled most of the year with their busy careers. Yes, they had all made it very well for themselves; they all had big careers and played a big role in the corporate life of Denmark. Agnete was the only of them who had also married and had a child still while maintaining her career as head of her own PR company. (She was her unique in the group, but it also made it even harder for her to maintain the façade of the perfect life.) Yes, her marriage suffered due to her many work hours, and so did her husband because she was the one pulling home the money. She made it possible for them to buy this small mansion just outside of Karrebaeksminde, close to the forest and with view over the ocean, Smaalandsfarvandet to the other side.
Agnete paused for a second and enjoyed the beauty from her windows feeling good about herself and her life’s accomplishments. Meanwhile Emma was still pleading for the chocolate milk. Agnete looked at her and sighed deeply. She had chubby cheeks and a very round face with small eyes that were staring up at her mother. Agnete bit her lip. Emma's recent weight gain irritated her. It was a constant reminder that she wasn't a perfect mother that she had somehow failed. Now that her girlfriends were about to arrive Agnete felt an urge to hide her away. She really didn't need them to see her chubby and imperfect daughter. The absent husband who was probably cheating (not that Agnete cared) she could hide from her friends. She could tell them they
were doing wonderful, she could tell them that they were going to the Maldives this spring and they were as happy as ever and no one would question it. Well maybe they would, but they would never say it out loud. They weren't that kind of friends; it wasn't that kind of lunch.
"Pleeease Mom?"
"No!" Agnete said firmly. She decided it was time to get a handle on this problem and not ignore it anymore. Her daughter was eating too much unhealthy food and Agnete needed to stop it. If she didn't, then this would continue the rest of their lives and be a constant reminder of how Agnete’s failures. Agnete had always been slim and at forty-three she was still well-fit thanks to daily visits to the gym during her lunch break. Emma was old enough to learn self-discipline. It was all about controlling herself, restraining herself and not giving in to what the body wanted. Agnete had learned it at a young age as well. If you want to stay beautiful and have the world admire you, then you have to work for it and if something isn't perfect, then you make it perfect.
Everything can be changed and molded. That was what Agnete's own mother had taught her and that was what she was going to teach her daughter beginning today. So what if she went to bed hungry, so what if Agnete hadn't eaten lunch the last three years, so what if she had to pull yourself through hours and hours of spin-classes and suffer from dizziness and nagging hunger. It was all worth it in the end. Why? Because she was admired, because people looked at her and asked: "How do you do it?" That's when she smiled casually and answered with a shrug, pretending it took no effort at all.
"Please Mom? Just one cup?" Emma said again touching her mother's arm.
Agnete turned her head and looked at her daughter feeling a slight repulsion with her small chubby hands. "No!" she said with a loud voice. Emma's eyes filled with tears and she pulled back.
"Now go to your room and stay there."
With a small whimper Emma obeyed and walked up the stairs. Agnete shook her head and rolled the vacuum cleaner back into the closet where she put it neatly back to its place. She paused and gazed inside the closet to make sure everything looked perfect in there as well in case any of the guests would open it by a mistake, thinking it was the door to the bathroom. She closed the door with a sigh. She scanned the house quickly to double check everything was in place and ready for the guests. The clock on the wall said ten fifteen. She still had an hour before the caterers arrived with the food. Now all she had to do was to make sure Emma stayed in her room and didn't make another mess.
Agnete poured herself a cup of coffee and closed her eyes while drinking it. She rolled her shoulders to loosen them up. Oh she had been so tense lately. Those stupid teachers and their strike. It was all their fault. They caused this stress. She’d been forced to take Emma with her everywhere she went the last couple of days. To think that Agnete had to bring her with her to work was horrendous. It had been hard to focus in the meetings with her sitting in the corner drawing with those fat little fingers of hers, constantly reminding Agnete that she was there, on display for everybody to see her imperfection. It felt like a breach, a fracture in Agnete's character. She didn't want all her employees and her business associates to stare at her fat little face and know that thing had come out of Agnete's lean and tall body. It was simply too humiliating. And now? Now she had to show her to her girlfriends from the boarding school, just because of those ... those stupid, lazy teachers. When Agnete planned the event, she deliberately picked a weekday so both Emma and her husband would be out of the house. But now this ... this infamous strike and Agnete had no way of getting rid of the little fatling. She had even tried to get her nanny to come and take her somewhere, but she had classes (she was trying to finally finish high school that she had dropped out of five years ago - yeah like that was ever gonna happen!). Of course the teachers at the adult learning centers weren't on strike. Only those taking care of kids. Why anyone should strike was beyond Agnete’s comprehension. Those good-for-nothing-lazy teachers should be glad they even had a job with their attitude and this economy. Now no one could even tell when this thing, this awful strike was going to be over. When this nightmare was to end.
Agnete shook her head again and opened her eyes slowly. She drank from her cup and almost choked as she looked out the kitchen window views towards the forest. She coughed and put the cup down. Could it be? Were the gods not done mocking her? She stepped closer to the window and looked up at the heavy grey sky above. Thick white snowflakes were dropping and landing on the new tiles and the perfectly sculptured waterfall with pots of Japanese cold-climate bonsai trees in the backyard, and they didn't melt as they touched the ground. Agnete knew what that meant. It meant the roads would soon be white and slippery and the traffic in Denmark would stop as it always happened. It also meant her guests would probably be late and maybe ... just maybe, so would the caterers. But worst of all; it also meant she wasn't going to be able to show her girlfriends the new garden that her landscaper had prepared just for this event. With the speed those snowflakes were descending it would be completely covered within the next hour, making one of Agnete's favorite songs by Prince Sometimes it snows in April literally true.
"Damn this stupid country and its long winters," she said out loud, stomping her foot onto the very clean hardwood floors.
2
EMMA PEEKED OUT of the window in her room. "It's snowing!" she shrieked. She jumped down from her bed. "I wanna go play in the snow," she sang while pulling out her snowsuit from a shelf in her closet where her mother had put it after washing it, thinking there would be no use of it anymore this season.
"Winter is over," her mother exclaimed with satisfaction while Emma hoped in her quiet mind that she wasn't right. Emma loved snow. She simply loooved playing in the snow. There was nothing better than rolling around on the ground, making snow angels and throwing snowballs. And uh ... oh ... the best part, making snowmen ... and of course snowwomen.
Emma started putting on her suit while thinking about all the fun she was going to have in the newly fallen white snow. Her mother didn't care much for it though; it was too messy for her taste. She didn't mind looking at it from inside, stating it looked pretty and all, but jumping around in it, throwing it in the air, getting sweaty and warm inside your suit while throwing snowballs at each other and building an igloo, wasn't for her. That was for Emma and her dad. Oh how Emma suddenly wished her dad would come home early today and they would get to play together. He hadn't been home much lately and Emma missed him. Especially on the long, boring days she spent with her mother while school was closed due to the teachers stretching themselves or something. Emma knew she probably never would understand why her school was closed, but it left her sad since she loved going to school. Not so much because she loved the school, but she loved being away from her mother all day. She enjoyed not having to listen to the small hints and constant comments about her size and weight and not seeing the disapproving look in her mother's eyes every time she ate something. Even if the other kids in school from time to time mocked her for her size, she still preferred that over her mother. Their disapproval wasn't as bad as her mother’s. It didn't hurt as bad.
Emma pulled the suit over her shoulders and pulled the zipper to close it. Then she found her gloves in the drawer and put them on. With a huge smile, she ran down the stairs.
"Mom! Mom! It's snowing," she screamed while almost tripping over her own feet. She ran to the kitchen where she found her mother staring with an empty look through the window. (If Agnete knew it wasn't going to leave a finger print on the glass, she would have touched it in despair.) Emma paused when she saw the look in her mother's eyes while she stared at the falling snowflakes and the yard that was already almost covered.
"Can I go out and play? Can I Mommy? Can I?"
Her mother didn't answer. Emma pulled her skirt. That usually did the trick when she wanted her attention. It would annoy the mother and make her look at Emma with those angry eyes, so she only did it when it was important. This was very, very important
, urgent even.
Her mother turned her head and looked at Emma. "What have I told you about pulling my skirt?"
"To not do it?"
Her mother looked at Emma's hand still holding the fabric, a look as if the fabric was made from pure gold. As her mother's eyes fell on Emma's hand, she let go and bowed her head.
"Sorry," she said. "But can I?"
"Can you what?"
"Can I go out and play in the snow?"
"Right now? Just before the guests arrive? I don't think that's such a good idea," she said. "You'll get your hair all messed up, plus you know how you always smell when you come back in from wearing that suit. I don't have time to give you a bath."
"But?"
Her mother waved her hand distractedly. "No buts. I'm busy here; I have enough on my mind. Go back to your room and try not to make a mess."
"But I'll get fresh air and get a lot of exercise. You always tell me to get more exercise." Emma said pronouncing the word the best she could without spitting. "Plus I'll be out of your way for a long time and you can get all the work done that you need to," Emma continued, looking around not understanding what exactly it could be her mother was so busy doing. The house was spotless and she knew her mother had ordered the food from someone and they were bringing it to her.
Emma tried to give her mother the most persuasive look, she knew how to. She called it her "cutie eyes."
Finally her mother sighed. "Okay then. But remember, don't go beyond the hedge, don't go out of the yard, okay? And come back in when I call for you."
Emma found it hard not to jump with joy. "Yay! Thank you, thank you, Mommy. You're the best mother in the world!"
Emma hugged her mother's leg before she sprang for the door.
3
EMMA RAN AS fast as she could into the inviting white snow and threw herself on the ground. She rolled in the cold snow laughing and shrieking in joy. She lay on her back and stared into the sky at the falling snow. She let it fall on her face, stuck out her tongue and caught a snowflake that melted right away. Then she spread her arms and legs out and began moving them, shaping a snow angel. She got up and examined her work with great pleasure. Perfect, she thought. Then she threw herself in a new spot next to it and began shaping a new angel. After making a few angels, as many as there was room for on the small area of grass that she was allowed to play on since she couldn't ruin anything there, she began throwing snow in the air and shaping balls and throwing them at things. She hit one of her mother's precious, almost snow-covered bonsai trees. Then she threw herself on the ground laughing. This was turning out to be the best day yet of her involuntary days off from school. It was even better than going to school.