“So, um Simon, what are we doing here?” I asked my friend.
“Well, we’re going to a Baptist Church,” Simon says.
“I’m Lutheran, and we aren’t into speaking tongues and overly emotional praise music.” I tell Simon.
“Well maybe, Baptists feel that emotional singing demonstrates their belief in God. Besides you only go to Church a couple of times a month, Miranda.”
“Doesn’t change my beliefs,” I tell Simon. “I learned and chose to believe in Jesus. I don’t agree with everything the Lutheran’s believe, but on the important matters I do.” I sigh, “let’s hope the Pastor doesn’t talk for two-hours.”
In the sanctuary I’m struck dumb. The people in the pews are dressed in black robes. There is a man on the alter with a fancier black robe and signs on his religious scarf. The signs look demonic, to my horror. I turn to leave and Simon grabs me.
” You told me they were Baptist — not Satanists!” I cry.
Simon smiles mischievously, “Satan requires a sacrifice from us and she needs to be one of Jesus’s flock. She’s you Miranda.”
“I believe in Jesus and I will go to heaven because of my Faith when I die. Get your hands off me Simon, I’m not dying today.”
Simon’s face is pure evil. “You’ll be with your Saviour soon, and you’re not going anywhere. The sacrifice ritual has begun.”
Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.
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