The Lord's Work


TITLE: The Lordís Work

AUTHOR: Shadowlass

EMAIL: shadowlass2000@yahoo.com

SUMMARY: I never went to some heathen land on a mission like some faiths hold to; what I did in every town I visited, every hamlet, was my mission, and my converts still keep to the way I taught them, arms folded as they rest beneath dirt and bushes and the trash drifting down the roadside, amen.

RATING: PG-13

DISCLAIMER: I donít own Caleb, and Iím really kind of relieved about that.

NOTE: I canít stand attempts to write dialects by dropping letters or otherwise changing spelling, but when I used correct spelling and grammar, it just didnít seem right. My apologies.

 

 

I suppose youíre wonderiní how we met. Itís not a long story, but I like to think on it. If you donít think on your stories youíll forget them, and that is a terrible thing indeed.

 

When I met her I was traveliní through the Carolinas, doing the Lordís work. By which I mean I was preachiní the gospel to those what needed it, spreadiní the word, doing everythiní I could to make the world a better place. Iíd stand at the front of revival tents and theyíd come to hear themselves a true charismatic preacher, line up three deep and afterward theyíd be waiting sure as yellowjackets in October, wearing more paint than a decent girl should, with their dresses falliní off their shoulders in a way that would horrify their daddies. It was easy to be with them, and it was easy to finish with them, because they never told anyone where they were goiní; they didnít want to be a foul girl tryiní to seduce a respectable man of the cloth. See, they was lyiní, lyiní about who they were and what they were doiní. I donít blame them; they couldnít help themselves, they were women. I gave them what they wanted and then set them free. It was a mercy to them and to the world. I never went to some heathen land on a mission like some faiths hold to; what I did in every town I visited, every hamlet, was my mission, and my converts still keep to the way I taught them, arms folded as they rest beneath dirt and bushes and the trash drifting down the roadside, amen.

 

Nobody made them come to me. I never forced them, those girls what couldnít keep their tongues in their mouths when they saw a virtuous man who strove to be above sin. Cominí up to me after services, lookiní for services of a different kind. Telliní lies with their pretty whoreís lips, sayiní they wanted guidance. I really liked your sermon, Father. Iíve been having some problems at home, Father. Father, Iím real worried about my little brotherócan you help him?

 

Yeah, I like them to call me Father the whole way through.

 

She doesnít, but sheís the only one. She came to me in some backwoods I donít even remember the name of, and she looked like the one Iíd just planted out beneath the jasmine, a better burial than she deserved. For a moment I couldnít breathe, and then she laughed and asked if Iíd like to do it again. When I tried to grab her arm my hand slipped right through, and I thought she was a devil come to haunt me.

 

She was, of course. When she was done with me I lay on the floor of the motel, exhausted, and then I realized I felt stronger than I ever had, stronger even than I did the first time a girl struggled beneath me and finally lay still. The world made sense, suddenly, and I could see my future, with the unnamed thing before me, and I realized that this was my calliní, a duty more sacred than purifyiní the sinful girls what brought themselves to me. I would see to her needs, and she would see to my mine.

 

At first I thought she didnít want me to keep on with my work, but she just wanted a little help, like they all do.

 

She started appeariní to me with the face of the Slayer soon after that. I didnít know it was the Slayer, thought it was just some girl. Maybe one Iíd forgot about, maybe one I hadnít saved yet. Once she appeared as my mama, but even she didnít like that one. And she likes most everythiní.

 

Didnít Freud teach us that itís all Motherís fault? I donít hold with Freud, heís a dirty-minded foreigner. But sometimes the man was right. A woman can do no more than her nature will allow, and she should not be despised for it. Only recognized and treated accordingly, and set free, so she can go to a better place. I could tell you about my mama, but thatís neither here nor there. The here is: I could save all the girls I wanted to, without hidiní. Even more than that, I could save girls what believed they was better than everybody else. If thereís one thing I canít stand, itís an uppity woman.

 

Well, Iíve met her now, The-One-and-Only-Slayer, and sheís the most uppity of all. And thatís gonna be her downfall. Everyone has one.

 

Iíve got one too, and itís her. She doesnít tell me everythiní; hell, she hardly tells me anythiní. Just what she thinks I need to know, and no more.

 

Iím still doing the Lordís work, just a little bit different approach. I was saviní one person at a time before; now Iím bringiní glory to the world. An almighty being came to me one night, wearing a dead girlís dress and askiní me to help.

 

And I have always believed in helpiní a woman in need.




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