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"Power lines, my travlin' partner on this ride. Dripping, pulling - up and down, in this sing song, their lullaby blends with the swaying train. I curl myself into this journey; folding myself up into this pocket of time. Old familiars greet me - that swing set in the back yard, the ruins of an old church covered in new birth and old - mixed with unremembered newness." Journal Entry, October 13, 2005~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~All words are copyrighted by GoGo on a Page/gogoroku.

Thursday, January 19, 2006

Frankie & The Preacher

She heard them as she crossed the bridge. She came upon them before she even turned the curve walking. Frankie was familiar with the sight and sounds of the campus preachers throughout her years. Different factions, different annunciations of the word of God roared from their lips, but the event was the same “Fear God, you sinners.” She knew from experience to keep silent, look down, and whatever you do, don’t challenge them.

This was our little lamb’s intent as she began to walk through the corridor of this group shouting and yelling their rhetoric. Eyes down, Frankie walked forward. She listened as they yelled at her, “God, wants to love you.” She tells herself empty head, full heart.

“God is a god who wants no other Gods before him.”

She keeps walking, pace steady. Walk too slow and they’ll target in on you, walk too fast and they’ll close the end of the corridor on you.

“Sinners must repent before God in order to receive his love…”

Frankie keeps her heart beat as steady as her footstep on the pavement, trying to keep her thoughts empty. Empty thoughts means she isn’t trying to argue them in her head. Then it happened, my dear reader. As she was nearing the middle of the corridor of God’s messengers, the Preacher, the head Padre of this bunch saw her. She could see him in her periphery as his eyes winced by recognition of her. She could see as his monologue towards the mass paused and as he redirected his words towards her. In her mind’s ear she whispered to herself, “It’s the haircut that got me.”

“Fear God you sinners. Those who love women. You homosexuals. God, says that you are a sinner. There should be no other than a man for a woman and a woman for a man.”

Frankie, our little lamb, had years of experience being sheered by the false words of God told to her. She knew that these reverend speakers of the word always saw her as a sin. Frankie’s head turned on as he spoke to her, she kept walking past him. In her mind’s ear she spoke soft words for God “I will not fear someone I love. I will not let my relationship with God be an abusive relationship”. She chanted these words over and over again louder and louder in her head as the Preacher proceeded to increase both his voice and the intent of his words.

“FEAR God you homosexuals or face hell as your sentence. I know you think that as the LESBIAN capitol, this campus is a swarm of sin for you to enjoy…”

“Damn, I knew I was missing out.” Then, oh reader…oh willing participant in this sad story I tell you…Frankie realized her words were no longer in her head, but out in the word as rounded and full as the Preacher’s, as hollow and escalatory as the faith-filler himself.

Frankie was only saved this time because her actions happened at the end of the corridor of God, her steps took her further and further away, and Frankie took the first turn left out of the situation.

But this plighted story of sad fate does not end here, oh readers. No, for you see, if you ever went to a college where Preachers preach at the center of campus…you know the like will Preach and Preach day after day…and day…and day. When they do go away, urban legend tells us that they met their quota to hitch a ride in a pew to heaven.

On the second day of this misfortune, Frankie had to once again go to class. She had known that they might remember her, seeing that her hair, that pixie cut apparently Dyke shouting haircut was also Redder than red. Frankie knew if the red noise of Rudoff distinguished him from the crowd, so did the red on top of her head. But our dear lamb was not afraid to go down the corridor. No, my readers. In fact, she was more willing than ever to walk down that corridor, for our Frankie had a plan…

Frankie would meet the Preacher and his disciple with silence. She would let them rip and roar. She’d even let them tell her that God was a vengeful God…her pet peeve. She promised herself that she would not speak until the Preacher himself attempted to speak to her…

to be continued next week…

1 Comments:

Blogger Sarah said...

Oh god, the campus preacher. How I (don't) miss that guy. I'll stay tuned for the next installment...

5:27 PM, January 20, 2006  

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