Bella tried not to shift on the uncomfortable wooden pew, but failed. Even though it was just a small rock, a small repositioning of weight from one side to the other and back again, she could feel her father’s eyes on the side of her head, like an itch she couldn’t scratch. She kept her eyes front, but squeezed her father’s hand when his fingers slipped over her own where they laid against her leg.
It was a big day for Bella at Church and she was no small amount of nervous. Even though there wouldn’t be much for her to actually do, it was still important. She was important.
The last notes of the hymn faded, the old organ falling silent with a long, gasping breath, and the choir of children and teens in their white and gold robes quieted. As one the choir group sat down in their assigned chairs atop the dais and folded their hands over their laps. At the center of the dais, a woman rose from her own assigned chair, arms spread as if to accept a hug, before bringing her hands together in a light clap.
“Thank you. Thank you for that beautiful song,” the woman, Lillian, said as she approached the front of the dais.
The congregation stirred around Bella, their elation at having their spiritual leader speaking palabale. She could feel the buzz of excitement from the adults and could hear the happy squeaks of the children. Her father squeezed her fingers tighter.
Lillian came to a halt right at the edge of the dais, a soft sigh leaving her lips as she gazed out over the congregation like an adoring, proud mother. She clasped her hands in front of her, resting them against her lower belly. Bella could see that Lillian’s nails were clean and neatly trimmed for the day’s sermon, a sure indication of how important the day was.
“Today is a good day. Well,” Lillian said, hiding a little laugh behind her hand, “every day is a good day, but I think we can all agree that today…today is a very special day.”
Applause and a few whistles erupted around Bella as the congregation demonstrated their agreement and enthusiasm. Yes, the cacophony of noise said, it is a good day, it’s a great day!
“The work that you have all put in, day after day, year after year, will finally come to fruition. I can’t begin to tell how thankful, how proud I am of each and every one of you.” From Bella’s position in the second row back from the dias, it was easy to see Lillian’s green eyes become shining emeralds from tears, her lips twitching and chin wobbling as she stifled little sobs.
“When I started our humble little commune, I dared not dream too big. I knew it would be hard, even difficult, to flourish in a time such as ours. The connections that people have to the modern world, the connections that we still struggle to break, even now, even in this moment, have a hold, a grip, so tight that they would see us strangled and dead before they saw us happy and free and alive, truly alive!” Lillian began to pace, slow and measured. She kept her attention on the congregation, looking into the faces of those who were part of her flock, and speaking to them, as individuals and not just as a faceless mass.
Bella knew that to have Lillian’s attention and recognition all to yourself, no matter how short the moment might be, was beyond touching, was almost addicting. Having even just a second of Lillian’s eyes on you was the whole reason many in the congregation continued their work in the commune. It was like having the attention of a messenger, an angel, of their god bestowed upon them. She had been the light in the dark for most, if not all, of the members of the congregation. All of them owed her so much.
So much.
“Now, despite everything and everyone who told us we couldn’t or we can’t, we did. We did it.” Lillian brought a hand to her mouth and closed her eyes as her shoulders shook with small chuckles. When she opened her eyes, she was positively beaming. Bella knew it was only her imagination, but it felt like the Church had brightened and the air had gotten lighter. She felt the last of her jittery nerves slip away as she gazed upon Lillian.
Lillian wiped her eyes, dabbed at them with her fingertips, and looked out over her flock. “We, we, we.” Lillian chuckled again. “What I really mean to say is you. All of you are the ones who made today possible. Never in a million years could I have accomplished this, and surely not on my own. It’s everyone who is sitting here today, the ones seen and unseen, who really did it.”
Bella could feel her own eyes begin to prick with tears and knew she wasn’t the only one who was feeling Lillian’s heartfelt words. She could hear little sniffles coming from the congregation and Bella could see some people dabbing at their own eyes as they nodded along with Lillian’s speech.
“I know that many of you see me as a shepherd and yourselves as part of my flock, but I’m not nearly as great as a shepherd and you are all so much more than just part of a flock. Each of you are beautiful, wonderful, smart, creative, amazing individuals. I hope you all see that, in yourselves and in each other. That has always been my goal, for you to see yourselves as I see you. The world outside of our little slice of heaven might not have seen it, but I did. And so did our beloved god, Algos.”
“Praise be to Algos, beloved of us sinners.”
Bella chanted the phrase with the rest of the gathered, removing her right hand from her father’s grasp, and then fisted it. She touched her thumb first to her forehead and then to her heart before returning her hand to her leg, finding her father’s hand once more.
“The sacrifices that everyone here has made have not gone unnoticed. They have been recognized, by myself and by our god. He looks down upon us with love and understanding, and knows you better than I do, better than even you do. What you have given up for him, through me, is something that only the most devoted of followers could do. Those others out there don’t know what it means to truly love something. They don’t understand what it means to be humble before greatness. No, no they only know fear. Sacrifices such as yours cannot be made through fear, only through love. That’s what I see here today.”
Tears fell freely from Bella’s eyes as she listened to Lillian. She could feel the love. The love of Lillian, of her father, of her family, of her neighbors, of the others around her. She could especially feel the love of their god, her god. Bella knew it was why she was Chosen, because her god loved her differently than He loved the others.
“Are you nervous?”
Her father’s voice was a low baritone and rumbled in her ear. It was a cooling balm on her nerves and had been for years. Her father always seemed to know when Bella wasn’t quite herself, now being no exception. When she’d asked him about his seemingly sixth sense, he’d only smiled at her and stated fathers always knew, but she didn’t believe it. There was definitely something that made her father special.
Bella pulled her gaze from Lillian, mourning the loss for a moment, and turned her head to look at her father. He wore a small, reassuring smile, though it was hard to see through his thick beard. His light brown eyes were crinkled at their corners, crows’ feet from living a relatively happy life. His face was weathered though, dried and tanned from spending much of his lifetime outdoors. At least his normally messy hair was combed flat, a neat part just left of center, that her stepmom had surely styled for the big day.
Her father was a handsome man, all the same, and happy, though she could detect a hint of sadness behind his eyes and gestures. Bella smiled reassuringly at her father and placed her other hand over his, holding her father’s fist tight.
“I was,” Bella said, shaking her head, “but I’m not anymore. I’m ready. Or, ready as I’ll ever be, at least. It’s an honor to be chosen for this task. Maybe the greatest honor.”
Her father’s smile trembled and Bella could see he was blinking back tears. He lifted his free hand to her face, brushing his knuckles of her cheek, before tucking back a piece of her hair behind her ear. “My beautiful girl. Such a strong daughter I have, now and always.”
Bella’s smile wobbled as her father’s touching words sunk in. She couldn’t help it as she too fought back the renewed tears that stung as she studied her father, committing him to memory.
When she was sure that she’d be able to picture her father’s face perfectly, Bella tipped her head to the side to look over his strong, broad shoulder. Filling up the rest of the pew was the rest of her family. It had grown from even just a few years ago, all thanks to the Church and Lillian. Just when her and her father had been at their lowest after having lost her mother, the Church was there to catch them and Lillian was there to guide them.
Her stepmother, ever so devout, was dabbing her eyes with a tissue. Her smile was just as watery, if not more so, than her father’s. Her blue eyes swam with the tears that filled them and her smile raised and fell as she fought the sobs that made her shoulders tremble. She’d done well in making Bella feel loved and wanted, even when Bella had initially rebelled against such things at the start.
Next to her stepmother were her step siblings and half siblings, though Bella just considered them her brothers and sisters. Her stepmother had brought into the family an older sister and brother for Bella. She released a little laughing sob as took in their faces, the way that they blinked back their own tears, and remembered how she’d pouted at suddenly being the youngest. It took time, but her new sister and brother were patient and, like their mother, showed Bella how loved and wanted she was. It didn’t take long for Bella to enjoy being the family’s baby, though that status had changed just a couple years ago.
The newest member of Bella’s family sat happily and joyous in her older brother’s lap, her little sister. She was only ten months old, but she was already a little showstopping angel. Her hair was blonder than her mother’s, nearly white. It acted as a little halo when the Church’s lights caught the gossamer locks. Bella’s heart swelled watching her baby sister burble and giggle, innocent and unaware as she tugged on her eldest brother’s tie.
On the far side of her older brother sat her youngest, two-years-old going on fifty-two. He looked about, stern with his chin up, as if he was studying the crowd. Bella knew that he was just curious though, wanting as much information as his little sponge-of-a-brain could absorb. She wouldn’t be surprised if he grew up to be a business CEO or a surgeon, or even the President, though he seemed to prefer colouring more than anything when he wasn’t gathering information. Maybe, he’d be the next Michaelangelo.
Bella caught his eye and smiled at him, gave him a little wave and a kissy face. In typical little brother fashion, he pulled a grossed out face and looked away. He looked back only a second later and flashed her a hand sign: thumb, pointer, and middle finger extended, ring and pinky curled into his palm. Their little secret language, how they said I love you. He turned away after that, back to studying the congregation.
If Bella had a camera with her, she would have snapped a picture of her family right then. Even though she wouldn’t be able to bring it with her where she was going, she would have liked to have it for the journey. She’d tuck it close to her heart, fingers curled around it so tight, it’d crumple the picture. Instead, she’d have to make-do with taking a mental picture, her eyes blinking rapidly like a camera’s shutter to burn the visual into the grey matter inside her head. She traced everyone’s face and visage, over and over until she was positive she’d be able to recall it just as easily as she could say their names.
Satisfied that she had the image of her family clear in her mind, Bella turned away. She glanced back at Lillian and, seeing that she’d launched into a homily about family and loyalty, followed in her youngest brother’s steps. Bella cast her gaze about the congregation, taking them in passively. She knew everyone around her by name, even if she wasn’t close with them, and they’d all made sacrifices for the Church, in one way or another. It was the least that she could do as the Chosen one, to remember all those who worked hard to make today possible.
The sacrifices that the members of the Church gave, big and small, were all equally important in the eyes of their god. As Bella looked over the crowd, she thanked those that had given a part of themselves to show their and the Church’s devotion to Algos. Most of those over the age of eighteen had paid a Tithe and there had even been a few over fifteen that had paid—with their parents’ permission, of course. Afterall, even the smallest Tithe was still a high price to pay when it came to Algos.
Bella could admit, now that she was older, that the first sacrifice had been…terrifying. It had marked a change in the Church that had not only herself questioning things, but had much of the congregation questioning. However, after a little thought, prayer, and guidance from Lillian, everyone—everyone—stayed. It helped that the sacrifices were not expected or required from anyone, but that it was something to be freely given. When the sacrifices started, it had been slow, but soon many who could, did.
When someone provided a sacrifice, it was a solemn, serious moment, but once the sermon was finished, the celebration started. Those who’d made a sacrifice were the center of attention, lavished with gifts from the Church, from Lillian, and from Algos. And, of course, from the other members of the congregation. Love was bountiful and the support was immense. It wasn’t unusual for people to be moved to tears on all sides.
Her father, for example, had been one of the early members to offer a sacrifice. Bella had been scared and worried for her father, and had even asked him to not go through with it. However, he explained to Bella the importance of casting out one’s sins wherever one could. He explained his own desire to run from the things that he should turn to face head-on, to stand up bravely and take what was coming. It was his shame, and by providing his sacrifice, he would demonstrate his vow to no longer run and would show his devotion to their new life under the loving eyes of Algos.
It had been hard watching as her father was strapped down to the altar on the dais. It had been harder listening to his screams as Lillian’s acolytes sawed through his legs just beneath his knees.
Bella had been worried that his screams of pain would haunt her dreams, even her waking moments, but they hadn’t. She’d never forget them, that was a sure thing, but what Bella also remembered was Lillian alternating praying over her father with a fervor that brought sweat to her brow and speaking to the congregation, calling on them to lend her father strength. Her tears of terror turned into tears of thanks. Watching all of those around her pray for her father, calling out to him and lending him their strength, praying for Algos to guide His lamb, Bella was touched beyond words. They didn’t fear her father or fear for him, not like others before had when her mother was wasting away.
She’d never forget that either.
When her mother’s diagnosis had come back as the worst, the word cancer echoing over and over in their ears, people had been supportive—at first. Friends and family came out of the woodwork, assuring Bella and her parents that they’d be there, honey, don’t you worry. They brought food and spent time with them, helped around the house, and made sure Bella wasn’t alone.
But then the chemo didn’t work and the surgeries didn’t work and the drugs didn’t work and nothing worked. And her mother wasted away, thinned out until she was little more than skin stretched over bone, her skull so prominent in her head that Bella could picture the gleaming whiteness splitting the thin, sickly pale skin like it was tissue paper. It was so easy to imagine her mother’s face turning away only to turn back and she’d be looking at a chattering skull.
And then the people stopped coming.
They assured Bella and her father that they cared, but they were suddenly too busy to stop by.
Bella might have been a child, but she knew that they couldn’t stand to look at her mother anymore. It was a mixture of fear, disgust, and pity. In her mother’s face, others saw their own mortality, and they weren’t ready to confront that, weren’t ready to look directly at Death.
And why should they? They had years left ahead of them. So they said their goodbyes in their little, betraying ways, and they left.
It was as heartbreaking as it was relieving when her mother died. Bella and her father didn’t have to make excuses as to why it was only them in the end, didn’t have to break her mother’s heart anymore than it had already been broken, crushed, and grounded.
Looking back on her mother’s death, Bella wished more than anything that they had found the Church before her mother had died. She would have been surrounded by people who loved her and cared for her, who wanted to share their everything with her. Even though she still would have died, at least her mother would have known for sure that she’d be welcomed with open arms on the other side by Algos.
Still, she was thankful that her father had found the Church when he did.
They were both reeling from her mother’s death, but her father had taken it especially hard and had started to spiral. After having just watched her mother wither away to nothing, watching her father intentionally do the same thing was devastating to Bella. She had no one to turn to, no one to rely on. She had to take on nearly all of her father’s home responsibilities. It was only due to habit that her father went to work, and even then she had to make sure he was up, showered, and clothed. She’d pack his lunch and guide him to his car, waving as he pulled out of their driveway and hoping that her father didn’t lose focus in the middle of his commute.
It all came to a head one day.
Bella had already experienced taking on more responsibilities as her mother declined and had even expected that she’d need to help her father more after her mother passed, but it all became too much. She’d been at the dinner table, bills on bills on bills surrounding her and spread across the surface. House bills, medical bills, funeral bills. The bill in her hand had a giant red stamp on it.
FINAL NOTICE
It was one of her mother’s hospice bills that had gone unpaid and unnoticed in the few months after her mother’s death. It was expensive and there were other, more pressing bills that needed to be paid. Besides, it’s not like they could cut her mother off. But final notice meant collections and that meant she couldn’t pass it off anymore.
She’d been on the phone for nearly two hours being bounced between different associates, departments, and managers. All she wanted was to set up a payment plant. The bill was over $100,000 and insurance had only covered half. It was money they simply didn’t have. Getting a payment plan shouldn’t have been as hard as they were making it out to be, but she had to argue for a reasonable monthly payment. A few hundred was reasonable in her world. A few thousand was reasonable in theirs. Every person she talked to she’d told them the repayment plan was still too expensive. They’d never get the amount they wanted, it was simple facts. Her father couldn’t afford it. Plain and simple.
Or so she thought.
Bella had already been near tears when the last person came on the phone and told her the only thing they could recommend was to contact insurance and see if she’d cover more. She tried to hide her sniffling as she reached for the blue pen to write down her case number when, instead, she knocked it with her fingers. It rolled away, over the bills, and off the table. Hearing the clattering of the pen when it hit the floor was such a small thing, but it was the final small thing.
She hung up the phone, buried her head in her arms, and sobbed. She sobbed until there were no more tears and then kept sobbing. Her chest hurt and her throat was sore. Tears smudged ink and crinkled paper, but she couldn’t stop.
Her father came home after work and found her like that, curled in the chair at the dining room table, dry sobbing with balls of paper scattered across the room. He’d touched her shoulder, scooped her up like she was a child again, tucked her into bed with a kiss on her forehead, and left.
When she woke up in the morning, her father had already gone to work, a lunch packed for her in the fridge, and a note saying he’d be back late.
It turned out that he’d started going to a support group for people who’d lost someone and were grieving that night, and every week after that, every Tuesday and Thursday night.
It didn’t fix everything, not right away, but it did help. It helped the most when one of the Church’s missionaries showed up, listened to sad story after sad story, and approached her father with a simple white business card offering a simple life and salvation.
Bella can admit, looking back on it, that she was wary and nervous about the Church. Her family had never been very religious, but her father talked her into it, had explained how a new, fresh start would help them and that, no, they would not be forgetting her mother, they’d just be moving on, step by little step, until thinking about her didn’t hurt as much, for either of them.
It sounded too good to be true, but Bella was glad to be proven wrong.
It didn’t happen overnight and had taken a lot of effort from her, but one evening as she sat with her new, extended family during a Sunday dinner, she’d finally felt back at home. Her father looked at her stepmother with depths of love she never thought she’d see in him again. Her stepmother was laughing at something he’d said. Her new brother and sister were bickering, fighting over who was the better author, Charlotte Brontë or Emily Brontë. They turned to her, their faces twisted in agitation at the other, and demanded Bella be the determining factor to settle the matter once and for all.
It’d made her heart swell and she’d started crying. It had been a little embarrassing, despite her family telling her it was fine. She stuttered out through tears of happiness how thankful she was for them and how much she loved them, and they returned the same.
“-ella? Bella?”
Bella shook her head, freeing the thoughts that were swirling through her, and surreptitiously wiped the tears from her face. She glanced at her father and gave him a reassuring smile, his hand warm and heavy on her shoulder. He squeezed it, returning her smile, and drawing her in to give her a final kiss on her brow. Bella patted the hand on her shoulder and stood, smoothing her dress out with clammy hands, and stepped from the pew.
Lillian was looking down at her from the dais, a wide smile on her face as she gestured for Bella to join her. Many of the members in the congregation had shifted in their seats to get a look at her and she fought the urge to duck her head, though could do little to stop the blush that crept across her cheeks.
As she walked down the aisle, Bella noticed that the altar had been rolled out onto the dais during her reminiscing. Atop it, laid out with reverence and surrounded by wildflowers, was a naked, headless body. It was covered with carefully placed staples and stitches to hold it all together, each piece having been lovingly and willingly donated to create it.
Lined up at the back of the dais, standing when they could, sitting when they couldn’t, were the members of the Church who had given a piece of themselves to make the perfect body. Not all the members who had donated were there, as some of them had given their very lives to make this moment possible, but many were. They all wore robes of white and gold, not dissimilar to the robes the choir wore.
In addition to them, Lillian, and the choir, four acolytes stood on the dais. They wore golden robes with red accents and big hoods that fell to shadow their faces. Bella had never seen anything more than the bottom half of an acolytes face. They were meant to be faceless, servants of Lillian and, through her, servants of Algos. They were the most devout of all the Church members, hand selected by Lillian herself. They didn’t speak, for their actions were the words of Algos, and, as they didn’t speak, had no need for their tongues. It was the first of many sacrifices acolytes gave to be able to serve Algos directly.
Lillian descended from the dais, her hand out for Bella to take, which she did without hesitation. Lillian’s hand was cool and dry compared to her own too warm and clammy hands, but Lillian made no motion to pull away nor did she pull a face. In fact, she squeezed Bella’s hand tight as she guided Bella onto the dais.
Lillian positioned Bella front and center, right at the dais’s edge, and all attention fell to her. Bella’s face heated further, but the weight of Lillian’s hands resting on her shoulders, squeezing them lightly, was comforting.
The congregation fell quiet.
“The time has come,” Lillian said. Her voice was hardly more than a whisper, but Bella knew that everyone had heard. “Please, let us bow our heads in prayer as we beseech Algos to guide our little lamb–” Lillian squeezed her shoulders again, a little chuckle ringing in her ear, “and our hand as she bravely makes the ultimate, crowing sacrifice for all that we have worked toward, for with Bella’s sacrifice, we shall know eternity.”
Like a wave, heads bowed and hands were clasped to chests. The murmuring of prayers was a buzzing in Bella’s ear that warmed her heart. She could feel the burning behind her eyes as her throat tightened with emotions.
She bowed her head and sent up her own prayers; not for herself though, but for her family and the rest of the congregation.
Another squeeze to her shoulders. “Are you ready, dear?” Lillian asked leaning around Bella to look at her. Lillian’s green eyes were bright and joyous, yet reassuring. The wide smile she’d held when Bella walked to the dais softened into something secretive to be shared between them.
Bella nodded. Lillian wrapped her arm around Bella’s shoulder and guided Bella from the edge of the dais to the second altar that had been hiding behind the first one. Unlike the altar that was in front, the second altar was undecorated other than the leather straps. Lillian guided Bella to lie down on the altar, the metal cool against any bared skin.
Lillian stepped back and motioned for the acolytes to take over. Two stepped forward and began strapping Bella down.
One around each ankle. One across her thighs. One across her hips. One around each wrists. One beneath her breasts. And the final one around her forehead.
The touches of the acolytes were gentle, but methodical. The one that strapped her head down bowed their head until their brow touched Bella’s. Then both moved away to be replaced by the other two.
While she’d been strapped down, the two awaiting acolytes had donned medical gloves and masks. One dabbed at Bella’s throat with a yellowed cotton ball held by a pair of hemostats. The smell of the antiseptic was sharp in her nose and she tried to lift her hand to rub her face, but was stopped short by the strap.
The acolytes paused.
“Sorry,” Bella said sheepishly. “My nose.”
The acolyte above her head nodded and pulled a tissue out. They held it against her nose and Bella wiggled her nose as much as she could to relieve the itch.
“Thanks,” Bella said. The acolyte nodded as they pocketed the tissue.
“A final word?” Lillian asked, appearing next to the acolyte at her head. The acolyte bowed to Lillian and stepped aside.
“Yes, please,” Bella said.
“Please know, Bella, that this eternity that you are granting me—granting Algos and these people—shall also be your eternity as well.” Lillina raised a hand and placed it against Bella’s cheek, her thumb stroking Bella softly. “You will live on in the memories of this congregation, in the new body that you are giving me, and in the heart of Algos.”
There was no stopping the tears that fell from Bella’s eyes. They slid along her temples, lost to her hair. She nodded as much as she could.
“Good girl,” Lillian said. She raised a black cloth over Bella and then laid it softly over her eyes.
“Begin.”
Bella swallowed at the kiss of cool, sharp metal against her throat. She trembled waiting for the moment that kiss would turn into a sharp bite, knowing that each end of it was held by an acolyte.
The first pass of the saw cut deeper than she expected and her scream was little more than whispered breath. Her neck was hot and wet from the blood that poured from her wound. The pain was unlike anything she’d experienced before. It was as if she was being both burned over a flame and electrocuted. She felt herself shaking and convulsing, the straps rattling against the table.
The second pass of the saw and she was choking on her own blood and metal. Her lungs filled and blood welled over her lips. It slid down her cheeks and into her nose. What poured over her chin, slipped down her neck and back into the wound it originated from.
By the third pass, there was white noise everywhere. It was in her ears, on her tongue, and filled her vision. It grew until it was all encompassing.
In that noise, she heard someone call out to her.
And she followed.
This story was written for the Are You Scared Yet? horror zine project which features both original works and fan works. Please consider purchasing the digital zine on Big Cartel and supporting the works of hardworking creators. The glory of this story is only enriched by the beautifully created artwork of my spot artist and the gorgeous rendering of the layout editor.
The Short Stack 