Author's Note: I wrote this story in English one day…almost every day she gives us ten minutes to write about something, and I just whipped up this sick little story. I wrote it without really thinking about it, and when I went back to read it I almost screamed. I had to read it to my friend Alex as part of the assignment, and scared him out of his mind, too. Beautiful. I almost thought I went too far with this. Then I thought of other stories I've read on ff.net…and I've seen creepier. So enjoy this sick little thing that I can barely stand to read myself.
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It is time – my birthday – the day of my rite of passage. Today I am eighteen. Today I finally join He Who Walks Behind the Rows.
Today there was a service for me. I drew my own blood, we shared it, and I added my own name to the list of those who had passed.
Tonight I will be saved from being an adult – a sinner, impure. To be an adult is to be the devil.
There is a story passed down that our first leader, Isaac Chroner, and his followers were almost brought to ruin by some of them. They came, and we didn't manage to destroy them in time. They revealed us, and we were split up; sent to adoptive families. The police apparently thought we had lost our faith in He Who Walks Behind the Rows. And Isaac, the one who saved us, fell into a coma.
That's what Ezekiel says. I was just a child at the time; three or four years old. But I never forgot, and neither did the others. We spread our knowledge in the places we were sent, and convinced more and more children to join us.
That was how I lived my life. Now my time is up. I am eighteen, I have done my part, and I am sure He is happy with me.
Yes, there's Ezekiel. Everyone has gathered around the ladder to watch. I climb it slowly, smiling. I've lived a life free of sin. Only we manage that.
I pause at the top and gaze down into the pit of fire. Will it hurt? But the fire looks welcoming. No.
He won't let it hurt.