She quickly turned in my direction, we made eye contact. Her smile; mesmerizing.
I stumbled as I moved back behind the tall oak to again hide myself. There was a large white tent meant for over three thousand people placed in the center of the field. Puzzling, since records indicated that not many more than one hundred lived there. The compound was spread out over seventeen acres of green, rolling land that once belonged to my ancestors – It was a curse to know of its existence. It was even worse to believe in the rhetoric taught there. “The Mansion” as it was called, had a pristine location next to the fishing pond. He lived there, their minister. The members occupied tiny camping tents placed strategically on the grounds.
She strummed her guitar and sang of sunshine and blue skies. Her eyes glowed with a fierce happiness. I never heard her sing before but today she bellowed loudly to get my attention. She must’ve known I watched her often, leaving my normal, dull life to daydream. Her voice as sweet as the Angels in Heaven, I presumed.
I placed my hands on the rough bark and moved slowly to get another look. She summoned me with a wave. Her movement so graceful, her hand appeared to be floating. I went to her. She patted the dirt ground. I sat beside her. I felt the melody in my heart as I joined her in Amazing Grace.
Had I been so enthralled by her beauty that I didn’t realize we were the only ones here? l sighed loudly, confused by this.
She put her instrument down and snapped the rubber-band she wore on her wrist against her skin – Making a popping noise and leaving her flesh tinted red. “A reminder.” She whispered. “I am my own woman. I am free.” She pointed towards the tent.
Bodies, lifeless laid scattered amongst metal folding chairs. The Cherry wood podium now on its side holding the body of their leader. I screamed in horror as I ran for my life, realizing later that she would have never hurt me.
I sat in bed listening to the news report on the abuse that took place in the commune. The deceased found with money flowing from their pockets and foam coming from their mouths. They were paying for a poison of hope – Not one of them was left alive.
I jumped from my comfort, startled by a knock at my window.
Leesa Writes 