Back to the Usual

Hello my lovely followers!

I hope you enjoyed my special segmented story! It was so much fun to write and I hope to be doing more of those in the future. Until then, I’m back to the usual short writing prompt, so look for this one at the bottom.

There are a few things on my agenda that you all can look forward to in the future.

First, I have officially started work on my book. It isn’t anything super fancy yet, just some sketches and plot lines, but I should be able to share some more information and maybe even some sneak peeks in the near future.

Second, I think I’m going to try to get my segmented story published in print. I’m going to reach out to a couple sources, but I will keep you all updated so you can go find it!

That’s all for today! Enjoy today’s prompt, it’s a bit different than my usual style, and I’ll be with you all again tomorrow.

I’m off!

I felt out of place standing in the rather long, solemn line. Some people were looking down, deep in thought, or I guess they call it prayer. Some looked anxiously ahead, eager for what was to occur at the end. Still others had their hands cupped in front of them as if they were holding a baby bird, but again they were looking eagerly ahead to the man at the end of the line.

I wasn’t really sure what I should be doing. As far as I knew, there was no God to pray to and I felt silly waiting eagerly for nothing. So I stood there and watched the line of people in front of me get smaller and smaller.

In case you hadn’t noticed, I have never done this before. My parents were fairly religious but I never understood it myself. My mother always tried to drag me off to church before but I always found excuses not to go and my dad usually helped me talk her down. He would take my place and week after week, they would head off to church.

As I neared the front of the line, I suddenly realized what that odd feeling was. I realized I felt like part of a herd of cattle being caroled somewhere. The only thing that was different about my herd, is it seemed like all the other cows knew where we were going except me, and they were excited.

There was only a single person in front of me now and the only thing I managed to hear was the word “blood”. I felt a pit form in my stomach. I was starting to think this herd may in fact be a cult. I couldn’t give them any of my blood! I know what cults use blood for. But how would the herd react if I refused? Would I be forced to? Would there be violence?

I tried to steady my breathing and swallow the lump in my throat as the woman in front of me moved to the side with her hands in the air in jubilance. That was certainly a cult action if I had ever seen one.

I turned my head away from the woman, who was now muttering to herself, and face an old man whom everyone called “Priest”. He seemed to be the leader of this herd. I was beginning to wish that I had paid more attention to what he had said before everyone lined up. Maybe there had been an exit clause.

“The body of Christ, given for you.” He shakily held out a thin cracker like disk with a small symbol carved into it. It looked like a misshaped plus sign.

I looked from the man to the disk as he moved it closer to my mouth. I must have made a face or something because he stopped and lowered the disk thing.

“What’s the matter my child?” Definitely a cult.

“I don’t know what to do. What did you say that was?” I suddenly realized my voice seemed rather loud. He had been talking in a whisper; I had not.

“This is the body of Christ, which he died for us to have.” He paused eyeing me. “You’re supposed to eat it. Are you not Catholic?”

Oh God, he was questioning my position in the cult. I couldn’t let him know I was an outsider. I might end up like whoever this Christ guy was.

“Uh, no I am. I just like to hear the story before I eat my… flesh.” I spoke awkwardly because quite frankly, the whole thing freaked me out. Did they kill a new person every so often and call him Christ so they could eat his flesh? There was no way one body was lasting them from week to week.

“Very well. Jesus Christ died on the cross to save us all from eternal damnation. During his last night with his disciples he lifted bread and told them it was his body given for them. In the church, I bless the bread so it may turn into Christ’s body for us to partake in this holy sacrament.” He eyed me once more before moving the disk back towards my mouth.

So it was bread? Or was it actually bread turned to flesh? I guess there was only one way to find out. I opened my mouth and the priest placed the small disk on my tounge.

It definitely wasn’t flesh but it didn’t really feel like bread either. Did he give me Styrofoam? I chewed slowly not liking this ritual one bit.

“Then Jesus lifted the cup and told his disciples it was his blood given for them. And so, I take wine and bless it so that it may become the blood for us to partake.” He lifted a large ornate goblet to my lips, I parted them, and a splash of wine was poured into my mouth. Thankfully, he wiped the edge of the cup afterwards.

He did a weird thing with his hands and then watched me. I sloppily copied his motions and hurried back to my seat.

My head was whirling with all the strange things that had just happened when I noticed that everyone was kneeling on the ground in front of their seats thinking, or sorry, praying. I quickly knelt down too and thought about what I had just experienced.

After the last song, everyone was dismissed. I made a b-line for the door, when I was stopped by the priest.

“Could I see you in my office?” He smiled gently.

“Yeah, sure.”

I followed him down some stairs and made several turns. I wasn’t really paying attention, I was more worried about what the weird cult leader wanted.

He ushered me into a small room with strange objects and say behind his desk, motioning for me to sit in a chair across from him.

“It seems you are not actually a Catholic but your perseverance is noble. Would you like to learn about our faith and start your journey?”

Well he seemed to be onto me but also possibly wanted me to join. I hesitated, watching his sparkling eyes, before I spoke.

“Maybe. I guess I have a few questions first.”

“Go ahead.” He folded his hands in front of himself and propped them on the desk.

“So what did I just do up there?” He chuckled but took a long while to answer and instead of an answer he gave me another question.

“Do you know what sins are?”

“Yeah, they’re when you do something bad… right?”

“Partly, they are any action that pulls you further from God in heaven. If these sins are not absolved, you could face eternal damnation. Jesus is God’s son, sent to us to die for our sins so that we may be absolved of them and be saved from eternal damnation. After Jesus’ death he was buried. On the third day after his death, he rose from the dead and became the good news we seek to spread to others, such as yourself. He then ascended into heaven to join his father and will one day come again.”

I was confused and I wasn’t really sure where to start.

“So you believe the bread is Jesus?”

“His body, yes.”

“And he rose from the dead?”

“Yes.” It came out of my mouth before I could stop it.

“Because of the yeast?” He stared at me, seemingly trying to process what I had just said as if it hadn’t made sense.


I don’t get it

Writing Prompt: Retell the most recent joke you’ve heard as a short piece of fiction.