Letters to the Chapel: Golden door, dark past.

Posted: September 18, 2015 in Uncategorized

     Letters to the Chapel Ep. 1 If you haven’t read Ep. 1 go take a glance.

     There we were, sitting three rows from the man with the big black book. Little did I know that this would be my last time in this building. The old people that I came to like, would shortly be cut from my life. All of this to follow my dads rules. This would be the start of some of the best times in my life, yet would bring some of the worse moments to my life.
My dad had a friend, and this man went to this group each week that was to be the most loving people ever. At first, I would have agreed, but as you read in the previous letter, that isnt how this story would end. They were not always deceiving hypocrites, it all came with time and enough want of one specific thing, Power!
The first time that I attended this group was very unpleasant for me. Imagine me with crusty eyes from late night sportscenter, bad breath from rushing out of the house due to oversleeping. I am sure that I even had a sexy cow-lick placed perfectly on top of my head but I’m not sure. I know this though, I was not in the mood to sing or to dance as this group was. They seemed addicted to energy drinks or something, with the movements they were making, especially at 10 a.m. What ever they had, I sort of wanted. But as soon as their energy began to enter my body, they had all of us sit down, and began to lecture us about their beliefs on the after-life. A room of believers filled the air with “Amens” and “Glory.” I had little to no idea what these words meant, so I marked it off as something only these crazies did. It made me uncomfortable, but next to me, my dad seemed to be in delight. This was the first time since I was a kid that I saw him this content, so I went with it. I acted like I was paying attention during the meeting, when in all honesty I was thinking about what the girl-of-the-week sent to me the night before. I wanted to ditch the meeting to reply to the “Fun” that was placed on hold due to falling asleep, and as I said before I was unable to reply that morning because I overslept. This pushed back the “Encore” until I got home from the two-hour ride in a fully loaded truck. But once I got home, let me tell you it was going down.
So with the blood barely flowing to my skull, I kept my heavy eyes open, since that was what I was taught to do. Anytime you went to a group setting, you kept your sorry butt up, it didn’t matter if you were tired, bored, or sick; you owed the man on the stage your attention. And though I didn’t care much about what they were saying on the stage, I was raised to respect the man, so I did just that. I think I even took a note or two, which is something I did as a child. My dad would buy me and my sister a note pad and we would be able to draw things on this pad. But with the lack of artistic talent I had, I was forced to listen and take notes, this never changed. I was always bad at art, so I would end up with a pile of paper, or a scribble on my giant pad of paper, either way I was productive.
I remember the joy that I had in my heart the moment I heard the guitar strumming begin. I think my heart even jumped a bit out of my chest. I was so excited that this day was almost over, all I had left was the one song, then I could tease myself with going home. But that wasn’t the case, like every week after this one. I was forced to talk to the crazy crowd of teary eyed believers. Trust me I tried to leave without encounter, but they caught me on the way out of the bench. They greeted their selves, I smiled that was it, not a single word came out. But they were not satisfied with my silence, so they began to interrogate me with some similar questions such as; “Where are you from?” “How old are you?” “Are you single?” Yes all of the girls wanted young Blake, nah I am sadly joking. All of the young girls were in one group, a group that I wasn’t going to even attempt to talk to. I knew how that would turn out, and since my Dad loved this place, I would have been stuck in my self-made embarrassment. To this day, I never talked to the “Cuties,” well not at this group setting, anyway. The crowd that approached me were the elders, a scarier version of the believers. They were like super-believers. Each one of the Scares had their own stories of how this place changed their lives, and how I needed to give it a shot. I agreed to get away from them, so I could go outside and call the girl-of-the-week. But that never happened on this day. I attempted to avoid a group of scares to run into the leaders son and his beautiful wife, she instantly gave me a hug and let me tell you, she smelt as beautiful as she was. Since I was a boy, I decided that they were someone I wanted to know, not knowing they were leaders of this group. They took me into the same office that the beginning of this segment started, to talk to me about my future in this group and how I should come back. I didn’t have an option either way, so I lied and told them I was excited to be a part of this place. They fell for the lies and smiled. I high fived the man that would go on to change my life, and hug the biggest inspiration in my life to this day. Well that isn’t fully true, but that will be discussed further next week.
This was the second episode of Letters to the Chapel, a segment that follows my previous walk with people that I trusted with all of my heart. Some things seem amazing at first, as a golden door to a palace. But in a moment, this could change into a dark shadow.

Impromtdude @ Facebook.com/impromtdude

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