Salvation for Dummies

A day in the life of a yound girl whose unfavorable views of religion come into question after she makes a bad jusdgement that turns out to be deadly...

       The incessant knocking is what actually woke me up. Probably some middle aged woman in curlers with a "Greatest Mom in America" mug coming to tell me my musics too loud. However once I get to the door, there's a pleasent suprise awaiting me. As I look out the window  I can see two smiling people in drab muslin clothes standing on the stoop with pamphlets in their hands, Jehovah's Witnesses. A shiver runs down my spine with excitment. They don't waste any time, as soon as I open the door they're at it.

"Hello Dear, God has led us here to bring you to salvation. God loves you! Let him lead you from sin!"

"No," I said sadly "it's too late for me but my neighbors have a son who just got out of Juvey, perhaps you'd have better luck with him."

"Oh no, we can tell it's you God wants. He wants to free you of your sins!"

"Right...ok well look, I'm in the middle of my daily Satanic animal slaughtering so if you could come back later that would be great." I let a sedistic smile cross my face, give them a wink and shut the door in their faces. I start walking back to my room; it looks a mile away. After what feels like an hour I finnally make it. Yet, as soon as my hand touches the knob there's another knock on the door.

"God d****t." I say to no one but myself. This time as I peer through the window it's a complete stranger that keeps me from sleep.

"I need he help." He says pathetically. The phrase 'W.W.J.D?' immediatly pops into my head. I chuckle out loud. He just stares at me. His hair is dripping wet from the rain and there's dirt smeared all over his face it's all tipped off by what looks like blood stains on his shirt.

"Well obviously, but you've come to the wrong place. St.Vincents Mental Institution is two blocks south of here...you look like you'd...fit in nicely." I can't stop my lips from curling.

"No, you don't understand ! Please! I won't be long, just let me use your phone and bathroom." I sigh.

"Christ, all right. Just give me five seconds to finish burying the body."

"What, excuse me?!" His eyes are wide.

"Just kidding, Come on in but wipe your feet off. Mud, it's a rug's worst nightmare." I say lightly trying to get him to calm the f**k down. Hesitently he wipes his feet off and steps inside. Instantly his eyes lock onto my mother's pride and joy of housing decor. The ever so commonly depressing depiction of Chirst's crucifiction, the crucifix for all you heathens. My mother's way of reminding us all of her smug sense of superiority because every Sunday she puts a ten dollar bill into a basket to be used for god knows what...no pun intended.

"Religious?" He asks.

"Hardly." I laugh at the thought.

"Atheist?"

"Skeptic." He shakes his head in aknowledgment.

"Do you live alone?"

"No, I get to indulge daily in the company of my over-the-hill metopausal mother."

"I see." But he has no idea, or rather I have no idea.

"So," I decide to ask finally "why exactly was it so important you come inside?"

"Oh yea that." He thinks for a moment "I'd rather not talk about right now." This strikes me as suspicious. However, I havn't had my morning fix of caffeine so naturally I'm too tired to care. We sit and talk for almost an hour about nothing in particular. Until suddenly I notice him sit up as though he has just realized where he is and whose he's with.

"Well it's been fun and I'm really sorry for what I have to do now." His sympathetic face suddenly morphs into a wicked grin.

"Ok," I say nervously "Well good luck to ya." Now I just want him to leave. It's not until he pulls out the 9mm that I fully understand the gravity of my situation. He pushes me up on the wall and holds the gun to my head.

"Next time you should think before you let a complete stranger into your house." His words are empty. It's not advice, it's his way of making my death seem like my own fault. The cold metal pressing hard into my head brings me back to reality. I can smell the sweat running down my face. I taste my salty tears on my tongue. Finally I let my eyes gaze on his face. The look of complete satisfaction and awareness of his actions is plastered on his face. I realize I am about to die. I pray.

"Oh Dear God,"

he gives me a wink.

"please help me!"

he c***s the gun

"save me please!"

he pulls the trigger

"don't let me d...."

 

Reviews

[Bare trees]

Well, it appears she finally found god too late. Too bad for her. Never trust a stranger indeed, anything can happen I suppose, and most times does. Nice story.