Mother of Darkwaters: Book one of the Vessel series (20 page)

   Tamara turns around wiping at her mouth. Mandie holds out a .09 mm handgun. Tamara shakes her head defiantly, “It can't be.”

   Mandie places the gun in Tamara's left hand, “It is.”

   Tamara's tearful eyes glance over to the scared man. Mandie backs away from the confused cheerleader. She walks up to within two feet of the large man. She lets go. The white blood-stained sheet floats to the floor.

   “See what you did you filthy pig?!”, Mandie lashes out angrily. She slowly turns around so the man can see the lashings of switch marks across her back. The girl lost her count around thirty-something.

   Tamara stares in horror at the man-woman. Mandie regains her attention.

   “This is the second thing,” Mandie informs.

   Tamara looks at the girl's pointing fingers.

   “Say it out loud, Tamara,” Mandie demands while pointing to the words carved into her body. Tamara wipes her clouding eyes from their water.

   “Say it!”, Mandie demands with authority.

   Tamara's eyes glaze over with the rage that created them. Mandie walks around Tamara. As she passes by, the girl whispers.

   “You're welcome, Tamara.”  

   The girl pauses before walking up the flight of concrete and steel. “Say it,” she orders calmly.

   “Revenge will always be mine!”, Tamara screams at the top of her lungs. She empties the .09 mm clip into the man-woman.

   “Johnathan Taylor will always be loved,” the preacher from St. Francois First Baptist Church speaks. The short skinny man scans the solemn faces lining the pew rows of his church.

   “Johnathon will be deeply missed by everyone,” the preacher continues, “But he can never be gone from our hearts.”

   Julianna wipes her nose with the handful of tissues in her right hand. Her grandmother's arm rests around her upper-back. She can vaguely feel the woman's left hand holding her left shoulder.

   The preacher rests his palms on top of the glossy pinewood podium. His expensive black Armani suit sets the tone for the words he must speak.

   “Johnny by his friends – known as Little John by his family,” the preacher subtly nods towards the first pew row to his right.

   “He is like the brightest star in the night sky. Johnathan brought light into all of our lives. He brought light to anyone who ever had the privilege of meeting him.”

   The man faints contemplation for a moment before slowly forming a smile.

   “A light!”, the preacher exclaims before lowering his volume once again.

   “Which was so bright,” the man pauses to reverently cover his heart with one palm on top of the other. He shakes his head with his smile widening, “Which was so bright our hearts were always filled with unimaginable joy; whenever, his humble words could be heard by our ears.”

   The preacher watches the crowd's reaction. He is pleased to see some of the grieving faces react with brief knowing smiles. He moves from behind the podium. His hands fall limply to his side framing the illusion they have lost all functionality. He sighs while he pretends to be seeing through the white painted ceiling. He takes a slow deep breath through his nostrils and then exhales quickly to make it seem as if the wind has forced his lips apart.

   “The good
do
die young,” the preacher closes his eyes as though he is listening directly to the God of heaven. He nods and lowers his head in bowed reverence. His short white hair conveys the preacher's wisdom in these matters. He interlocks his fingers and allows his upper arms to remain limp.

   “The good die young because Satan steals their lives. That old serpent – the devil – who has come to steal, kill, and destroy,” the man declares. He animatedly releases his revered hands. The preacher's left hand forms a fist dangling to his side. His right is lifted next to his head to mimic one of those fan-foamy fingers found at some sporting events.

   “But the enemy has
not
won!”, the preacher shouts.

   Julianna hears some of the funeral's attendees say, “A-men.” Johnathan's family weeps three rows in front of her. His parents sit next to Johnathan's nineteen-year-old brother. She sees him wiping at the tears falling down his face. Both him and his dad are silent within their grief. Johnathan's mother, however, fills the church with her heartbreaking sobs. Her sounds of grief with the countenance of complete loss upon her face sends Julianna into another wave of her own tears.

   “He has not won because he can't win,” the preacher calms his excited voice.

   “For Johnathan Taylor already belonged to our Lord Jesus Christ. Satan stole his body from this earth. But he did
not
steal Johnathan away from us. He is with our Lord. He is waiting for the rest of us to make it home.”

   The preacher refolds his hands reverently, “Johnathan would want us all to remember his life. And how he lived each day with so much love and compassion for others.”

   The man's eyes drift down to the boy's mother, “Johnathan – who was never selfish. Johnathan – who was always kind. And Johnathan – who now lives with his Lord overseeing the rest of us.”

   Julianna smiles through the fog of her grief. The preacher man is absolutely correct in his description of her boyfriend, Johnathan. He did love his God very much. There's no disputing that. The boy teen used to drive her nuts with the whole salvation thing. But she loved him with all of her heart, anyway. Who cares if he wanted to believe in a human man getting crucified by the Romans as a means to eternal bliss? It made him happy. And that is what truly matters.

   Julianna, herself, never could quite believe in such a concept. To her, Jesus is a bag of goods created by men who wanted to gain control over other people.
“Accept Jesus because He is the only way to heaven”
, they say,
“You can't get to God without first believing in a human man claiming to be sent for the redemption of everyone's sins.”

   Sure, Julianna was sort of raised in church. That is where she met Johnathan. And she did say the whole
'please come into my heart, Jesus'
, bit. But she never actually believed in any of it. There are just too many holes in the
'Jesus is the only way to heaven'
theory.

   First off, the description of heaven is written by someone who claimed to see it through a vision. And better yet, they were abducted by a so-called angel and taken there via a separation from their physical body. Today, we call them aliens. The visions, Julianna knows is nothing more than some guy on hallucinogens of some kind. And if not, then the man was absolutely insane and needed a therapist.

   Secondly, paranormal investigators are always catching dis-embodied voices on electronic devices. Some of these voices claim to be demons. But never angels. Not once. Not ever. Yet, according to the whole Jesus story, angels used to appear all of the time.

  
“Jesus, will be his name”
, an angel supposedly told a fifteen-year-old virgin who is now magically pregnant by God. And although, some biblical scholars now say the
Virgin Story
is a misinterpretation of the actual language, the angel who popped in to announce Mary's rape is rarely disputed.

   Julianna could never believe in such a ridiculous story as this. If anything, the only part which is true, is the part where Jesus is the product of a forbidden love affair or an all out raping of a fifteen-year-old girl. Either way, Jesus is the only way to heaven, not so much.

   An angel is supposed to have appeared to a group of people to announce Jesus' birth. And angels were apparently the ones responsible for removing a big boulder away from His coffin-cave. Angels, angels, and more angels. Yet, it seems after people stopped writing scrolls, the angels stopped appearing.

   Finally, the stories of Jesus are no different than a movie made about witchcraft. In one story, He put mud on His hand, put the mud on some blind guy's eyes, spit on this dude's face, and then told him to go wash it off so he could see.
If
the guy were truly blind and then miraculously healed, then Jesus performed a spell involving the earth and the water from His mouth which contained salt. Classic witch-movie spell – earth, water, salt, and sometimes blood.

   The most insane part about the Christian's belief-system, is that they believe the only way to God is through a practicing witch. The same God who is also described as frying every single witch in hell.

   And it gets even better. This rape-child warlock apparently goes to hell, takes the keys of hell away from some fallen angel known as Lucifer, and strolls right back out. He then jumps into his rotting corpse and flies magically away into the clouds. Come on. Anyone with only a piece of their brain firing in the correct order could see through the insanity of this logic. Yet, millions upon millions of people believe that a rape victim's child warlock is their way to heaven. Johnathan was one of them. But Julianna could never fault him for believing in this nonsense. He could have believed in a magical rock as his way to enlightenment, and Julianna would have loved him no less.

   Julianna
does
believe in God, however. It's just not like the Christians believe. She believes God is more like a kid with an ant farm, the noon-day sun, and a magnifying glass. Piss Him off and your ass is fried. Period.

   Embrace your sexuality outside of the rules – fried. Open your mouth with vulgarity or a lie coming out of it – fried. Listen to the wrong type of music – fried. Get a divorce – fried. Practice witchcraft – fried.  Unless of course, you are a rape-child warlock. Then you can walk right back out of hell anytime you choose.

  
Yeah right.

   Julianna sees the truth in who God really is. Johnathan was a good guy. Correction – he was a great guy. He never hurt anyone. He only loved. And he loved her. But now he is dead. And dead is dead.

  Her boyfriend would spend his extra time doing charity work. He'd help feed people by serving them at the local food drives. Those kinds of places where you grab a plate and someone throws a turkey leg on it for you. He did everything the Christian's bible told him to do. But he did more than that. He lived the life. It was who he was. And now he is dead. Taken away from Julianna, forever.

  
If
God is truly all-powerful, all-present, and all-knowing...then God is evil and cruel. For Johnathan only loved Him. And where did
that
get him? Not in some fictional place called heaven, that's for sure. Not a fake place created by some kind of hallucinating criminal running from the police. No. Serving God only got Johnathan put in that freaking casket sitting on the stage. Johnathan spent his existence serving a God who refused to let him live past the age of sixteen. That is, if God is really an all-knowing, all-present, and all-powerful being.

   If God's makeup isn't of these characteristics, then He couldn't have stopped any of it. But if God is these things – Julianna believes He is or He wouldn't be
the
God – then God is cruel, without mercy, hateful, and downright evil. And there is absolutely no way in this life or any other where Julianna will ever serve a God like this. Not now. Not ever. And not in any hereafter.

   She was only seven whenever her mother died. Her father did the best he could by trying to send her to church. But he never came with her. He was for the most part, a drunk. Yet, he still believed this would help her. And in a sense, it kind of did. The whole Jesus-heaven concept was indeed something a seven-year-old could grab a hold of in order to come to grips with this unnatural loss.

   But now everything is different. Julianna is now old enough to reason out the truth within religion and death. And the truth is: God
is
cruel, morbid, and evil. Her mother is dead. Her boyfriend is dead. And to hell with everything else – including God and His rape-child warlock.

    “Julia,” a soft womanly voice speaks, “Do you want to go up front?”  Martha's red hair drapes over the shoulders of her black dress. The high black neckline is constricting, but her pearls seem to gain an extra glow about them with the black backdrop.

   “You don't have to go up there,” the girl's grandmother whispers in her right ear.

   Julianna dabs at her eyes. She stands and waits for her grandmother who in turn waits for Frank. The man stands and steps out sideways into the aisle. Martha follows his lead and stops by his left side. The woman smiles grimly while her teary granddaughter nervously looks at the growing  line of people in front of them.

   They patiently wait in the line of funeral attendees who first look into the casket, move on to give their condolences to Johnathan's immediate family, and then finally make their way out of the church's sanctuary.

  
I can't do this.

   Julianna freezes in place before her turn to view the boy's corpse has come. Her entire being locks to the floor. The black high heels she wears refuses to lift one more step. She looks towards the front of the stage where Johnathan's mother is weeping in someone's arms. Julianna loses the little control she had going and falls to her knees. The teen's eyes no longer fight to hold their water.

   “I-I'm so sorry,” Julianna begs Johnathan's sobbing mother.

   The woman pulls back from the hug holding her to scan the area where Julianna pleas for her forgiveness. Her teary brown eyes struggle to sort out the line of faces before her. She focuses in on a young girl kneeling and crying upon the floor. The woman's stare hardens as she pushes away the person who had been holding her with comfort.

She points to Julianna.

   “You!”, the grieving mother shouts out, “What are you doing here?!” The shaky woman puts both of her hands over her mouth. They form a semi-prayer hand scene.

   “God! Why in the name of God's name are you here?!”, her muffled words call out before her heavy arms fall to her side