Page 23 of Eyes Like Angel
Otherworldly.
A sanctuary.
In my dreams, it brought unholy notions, a smile etched onto my face.
My heart, on the other hand, has spiraled to an obsession.
7
Eva
Shivering, the cold air pressed in its passage through the holes inside the Forgiven Box, and the priest’s presence is nowhere found. I struggled to break free, stayed in place, tears on my face dried out; white gunk on the inner corners of my eyes crusted. But my religious habit remained steadfastly drenched—melded in the bitter season stung harder. The ray of light pooled across the wooden boards, but I can’t feel the sunlight.
The thickness of these doors and barriers were my succor, a blanket sheltered against the chill, mutters lingered in the air. Though some whispers weren’t whispers anymore.
My head conjured to someone’s laughter from the presence of yesterday.
Laughter. Sadness. Angry voices shouted at me—in dreams and wake.
I heard it all, as invisible hands tackled me. I couldn’t think straight as I heard them in my wake, following from my nightmares.
Stay here, in the dark, until you repent, repent your sins!the hollow wind cursed me.
Dirty, lying and ungrateful ingrate. Impatient with hands and greedy eyes. Until you learn your lesson, you shall never be released from the box, in the name of the Lord.
Looking at the narrowed room, the attic was in no good condition. So does the large wooden box, identical size as a coffin, but almost shaped like a confession box confined me. The Forgiven Box was in no great shape. The wall collected the drench from my stature on previous nights, mingling withdried blood, I frightened the consequences of uncleanliness and disease seeping into the flesh, eating and aflame me alive, just as the priest claimed.
I have done a wrong deed once again.
The gaping hole treaded the shivers from the chilled temperature.
After I spent hours on shedding my tears, I dried my swollen eyes with my numbing hands and breathing collectively.
The lock has been broken, and revealed Father Divine, after he locked me in the Forgiven Box last night for the lack of responses for the distribution.
“Sister Edith, do improve her appearance,” Father Divine said with a sickly sweet smile.
At once, Sister Edith obliged, and hauled me up to stand before I get a chance to do it myself.
She hoisted me with a death glare in her dimmed and sour expression before throwing several robes for me to wear before heading out, as I wondered back to Sister Lucia’s defense yesterday.
Not long after, we reported back to Sister Edith. Sister Lucia took the blame due to not passing the flyers to the newcomers, not the locals, but Sister Edit and the others refused to believe and pinned the blame on me instead. The results haven’t improved; I was confined in the Forgiven Box in the dark attic by Father Divine for the whole night as my punishment for not doing my job right.
This time, it’ll be different. It will be. If I try harder, they’ll accept me, I thought to myself, a glimmered hope spark and a tiresome aura veiled me.
God is watching me.
Another day.
Another distribution.
Another obedience and service to the Lord without question.
8
Adrian
After skipping attendance to a holiday meeting I couldn’t care less about was one, but skipping for a different kind of party is another. Leaving the house was as excruciating as it was leaving an electric fence.
