PROSE

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Content warning: sexually explicit situations, drug use, mental illness

“Edrei!”

My mother’s voice amplifies in my ears like the vibrations of a heartbeat on a cheap pillow. My eyes, now wide open, settle to the bright sun shining through my dusty window. I look around to notice I am all alone in the room, and suddenly I feel the urge to squirm.

Getting up, I touch my toes to the cold wooden floor and shiver a moment before grabbing a soft, pink gown to put on. I know Father really likes this dress.

Looking in the mirror, the bright light reflects against my pale skin, and I notice each crevice, each line, each mark of impurity. I drag along the perimeter of the mirror and let the dust plague my fingertips. 

I brush out my blonde locks and watch as they curl up like a pig’s tail when I let go. I think about how lucky I am that of all the moms here, I got my mother, the one with beautiful, long, thick hair. Many of my sisters aren’t lucky enough to have this, and some of them have to struggle with ratted, tangled hair. 

I tiptoe downstairs to find my mother wiping sweat off her furrowed brow. She wears a long, baby blue silk gown with lace trimmings, and I wonder if I will ever be as beautiful and elegant as she. 

She is sweeping to the sound of her hums, and I watch for a moment, unable to stifle a grin from emerging on my face. Sunday mornings always make me appreciate this existence because it is the only time you really see everyone at their worst while simultaneously at their best. Sunday is the day to fix everything you messed up in the previous week, to repent, to begin the new week with a better outlook.

Sunday is also the day we have Adoration. Father call’s Sunday, “Dad’s Day”, and each week, we all come together during the evening to exist as a family, in harmony and happiness. 

Adoration has made me who I am, which is why I am a bit anxious. Next week, I will be eighteen, which means I will enter the outside world. Father says that he wants all of his children to experience the outsiders so that we can appreciate all he sacrifices for us when we come back. But, not many who leave return. I can’t imagine not returning, I mean, where would all my sisters and moms be without him?

Mother kisses my forehead and I look up at her. She squeezes my puffy cheeks and I laugh a little.

“Edrei,” she begins, her eyes fluttering away, focusing on nothing in particular, “Maria needs some help with the kids.”

I spin around in my dress, letting it puff out and watching my feet touch the kitchen floor. 

Maria just gave birth to twins. Father has never had a pair of twins before, so this is obviously a huge and exciting event for the whole family.  

I enjoy living in peace with my family, apart from the outside world. I am safe here, I don’t face the normal struggles of high school drama and boys like I’ve seen during ‘Television Time’ or heard of from Father’s tales. During ‘Television Time’, Father brings a special box out, and we all gather around and watch as Father shows us what life is like on the outside world, with ‘Puppets’, these sock-like creatures that only have consciousness when on Father’s hands. He is powerful like that, giving life to all. Father educates us, and Father makes sure we steer clear of boys until we are old enough to understand. “Boys don’t love you”, Father says, “Boys will never love you. Only I will love you.”

We have a good amount of land, I am not really sure how to put it in units that outside people would understand, as Father taught us his own, better system of measurement. It is large enough that to get to certain spots, we must ride horses. 

The horses roam free here, besides during times we need a ride. Father thinks horses are powerful. He does not want to tame them, he wants them to exist with us. It’s mutually beneficial, we’re equal to the horses, really. 

All mothers are moms to all the children on the commune, and are referred to as ‘mom’, but personal mothers are referred to as ‘mother’. Each mom gets her own little hut, where she raises her personal children. Each mother has different numbers of kids, depending on how many Father deems she should have. Mother had me and Channing, my older sister, who is about 21 now.

Channing left the commune a few years ago, and we have not heard from her since. Channing was my best friend, truly. At night, when the wind would whisper fear into my ear, she would yell, scaring the breeze another day. When the days were dark, she would hold my hand, remind me that light will come again. She always knew just what to say, she always knew just when to say it.

Perhaps Channing and I were so close because she claimed to be a male. Father is the only male I have interacted with before, so having my sister claim to be a male was the closest I had to understanding the male mind outside of Father. Channing cut her hair short, actively upsetting Father. I was confused why Channing was not ‘Freed’ as a baby, like all other males born into the family, and she said it is because she is male in a female body. I do not understand what that means to this day, but I wanted to support my sister. Father was always unhappy with Channing’s behavior. Channing left about three years ago, and I have not heard anything regarding her since.

Father says that he loves all of his children equally, but I think he knows I’m special. He always tells me I’m special, that I’m the prettiest of all his little girls, that I look just like my mother did when he met her. 

Father will be 64 years old this year. I wonder if his wisdom has grown with his age, or if he has always been this knowledgeable. 

Sometimes, my sisters and I talk about the history of the family, even though we are strictly prohibited to do so. Whispering with eagle eyes, we talk about the first moms that Father discovered. 

Rumor has it that Father found two 13-year-old girls, best friends Sharron and Stylone, who ran away from home together. Father found these girls on the street, they were having sex with multiple men to pay for ‘Drugs.’ Father taught these girls the value of love and family, these were the first people he introduced to Adoration. Together, the three had 11 children, 7 surviving past infancy. Only three of these kids are still here today, and nobody, not even themselves, know if their mother is Sharron or Stylone. Stylone died before I can remember her, but Sharron is still here. She doesn’t leave her hut very much, and neither do the three kids, who are even older than my mother. I do not know if they have left and come back, or if they have never left.

Father has saved many women from ‘Drugs Abuse’ and ‘Dependency.’ Father’s mission is to teach women all around the world that the outside world is full of disappointments. But, life with our beautiful family, and through expressing your love and devotion to Father, all will be okay. Outside world ‘Drugs’ are dangerous, impure. In our community, everything is pure, coming from our family and Father, you never have to fear what you are taking, as Father would never want to hurt any of us. I would trust him if he stuck a needle in my blue veins. 

Outside, I can feel the sun on my skin, darkening the pigment as I roam the fields. I like the feeling of the grass between my toes, the moisture of the dirt taking over my senses. 

I can’t help but squint my eyes because the sun is so bright. I look out at the field and see the horses running, playing. I want to join them.

I make my way to Maria’s hut, and each step makes the ground breath harder. My eyes widen as the grass opens and closes, breathing in the air as I soak in the light. 

“Good morning, Edrei!” I hear out of the corner of my left ear. 

I quickly turn my head and notice one of my sisters, Valery. She is on a horse, her black hair pulled back into two braids, her dark under-eye circles overtaking her soul. 

I smile at her, “Excited for Adoration tonight?” I ask, squeezing grass between my sweaty toes. 

“Oh yeah!” She yelps while trying to calm down the horse, “I just sewed the most beautiful yellow dress. I think Father will love it, I do.”

She smiles, and I notice the gap between her two front teeth, which seems to grow in size each time I see her, like an abyss or a lake that’s deeper than you believe.

“I can’t wait to see it, and I hope Father enjoys!” I say as I walk off, waving.

I get to Maria’s hut and knock on the front door, though it is half open. 

“Edrei, is that you, sweetie?” I hear through commotion. 

I step inside, “Yes it’s me, mom!” I am immediately engulfed by the smells of childhood- barf, beets, and oatmeal.

As I reach the room Maria is in, she quickly hands me Ella, one of the recent twins. Ella has twiggy blonde hair that is greasy to the touch. Maria asks me to clean her up and get her ready for Adoration, so of course, I comply. I would never want one of my sisters to look a mess for Adoration, and Maria is not the best at keeping her children properly up to Father’s standard.

I brush out Ella’s hair lightly, trying not to hurt her tender head. I put her in a purple dress, which Father taught me is the color of royalty. 

Ella and I sit out front of Maria’s hut, playing in the grass. She crawls around and I chase her, letting her get away easily. 

I hold her to my chest and I cannot wait to be a mother myself. I wonder how many children I will be told to have.

As the day passes, the shadows on the mountains change shapes, and the clouds begin to swirl. The sun is completely still, standing there, watching me, plotting its move. I have always felt that the light follows me, but I have no proof. Father says he thinks I’m onto something. 

As Ella and I continue to lounge around outside, a couple of sisters stop by. Ava, age 12, Claire, age 22, and Sabrina, age 7, are walking by, dressed beautifully for Adoration. 

When Claire turned eighteen, she left for about seven months, returning at a much higher weight and lower mentality. She never told anyone what happened. She never even told me if she saw Channing.

Ava, Ella, and Sabrina are running around, Ella in Ava’s arms, Sabrina dragging along behind them. I look around and see that the grass is breathing at a much calmer rate than before. The clouds are calmer too, like the sea before the moon got involved, swaying the ocean from shore to shore.

As Claire and I stare at the clouds and dream of riding horses to the moon, suddenly I speak, though I try to hold my tongue.

“What, uh, what was it like when you left?”

I don’t know why I say these words, I hate to break Father’s rules, but they exit my lips like a fish escaping someone’s underwater grasp.

Claire’s face is like a light switch, quickly going from a bright smile to a blank stare, from at-ease-with-the-evening to eyes-dull-but-wide.

She looks around, eyeing our surroundings. She sighs, “Next week, right?”

I nod.

“It’s going to be… weird.” Her bottom lip hangs fat and low beneath her crooked teeth. I see it vibrate, but she does not speak. 

We sit in unison silence, the sun slowly fading the sky to a swirl of pink and orange shapes. 

“It’s different. We’ve been raised to believe in one truth, well-” She cuts herself off, and grows much quieter, “There is more than one truth.” 

I see her bottom lip linger again, shaking like she wants to speak. 

“What do you mean?” I ask, “How can there be another truth?” Again, the words leave as though my body forces them out, not my mind, “That’s impossible. You know this is the way to live, Father has tested it multiple times, you know this.” I become aware that I sound frantic, and I don’t mean to cast judgement upon her, I just truly don’t know what she means, how can there be more than one truth? Doesn’t that defeat the point of having a truth?

Claire looks me deep in the eyes and begs me to not say anything, especially to Father. She tells me that though she learned ‘other truths’, she came back, she believes in the truth of the family.

I promise her I won’t tell anyone, but as she is walking away I grab her hand, “Did you-” my words stumble over themselves, “Did- did you see Channing?” I ask, my eyes ample with hope, the blues feeling brighter than before. 

She looks at me and her mouth falls flat before she walks off.

The sun is almost down, and the colors grow deeper, as though paint is splattered and mixed across the sky, each stroke texturizing my existence. 

I have to run home to change for Adoration, so I tell Maria I will see her there, handing Ella back into her mother’s delicate arms. To my surprise, Maria cleaned up the other children nicely, and even had time to prepare for Adoration with a Poppy. 

I rarely take Poppy’s, as I can only when I am well prepared and finished with my day’s work. Poppy’s are these vibrant colored items of all shapes and sizes. Swallowing one makes colors seem brighter, music sound better, and makes everything to the physical touch feel absolutely amazing. To describe the feeling, imagine how the sun radiates heat. Well, it feels the opposite of that, as though you are soaking in the energy, warmth, anticipation. All you want to do is dance, sing, love. It is only positivity. 

Father says Poppy’s are either to be taken alone, or promptly two hours before Adoration. Poppy’s make the experience of Adoration a bit different, though of course, every time is different in its own regard. But, Poppy’s can either intensify the positives or exacerbate the negatives of Adoration. And this effect can be extreme. 

I change into Father’s favorite red satin slip, and look at myself in the mirror, letting my hands roam from my neck, to my chest, down to my waist, where I slowly graze my skin with my nails, feeling goosebumps immerge on my inner thighs. 

I pull my hair back and look again in the mirror, practicing my smile and greetings for the night. I think about if Father truly thinks I am the most special. I mean, out of all his children, is it wrong of me to think I truly could be his favorite? The thoughts keep coming, and though I try to digress, they eat me away. I try to shake the ever-flowing thoughts, and focus on Adoration. I know that Adoration will remind me that Father thinks I am special, and that it is not important to be his number one, but rather to experience the life he has given us. 

Mother and I walk to Adoration, since it is a nice summer evening and Father just invented a special spray to keep away the insects. He is so smart, I am so lucky to be a product of his passion. 

My mother’s plump pink lips glisten in the evening glow as she purses.

“My sweet Edrei. It just occurred to me that this is our last Adoration together for a long time.” 

Her cheeks falling and eyes looking away, she attempts a smile.

“Mother,” I give her a hug, “Let’s enjoy the time we have together, now.”

She nods, wiping a single tear. I can’t help but listen to my own advice, for thinking about the future can drive one to madness. 

As we walk, mother’s favorite horse trots by, slowing to her whistle. She pets the horse roughly, but the horse enjoys it. She plants a kiss below its eye.

We arrive at Adoration and say our hellos to all of my moms/mother’s sisters, and all of my sisters/mother’s children. Mother makes her way to the other moms around her age range while I go more in the crowd. Everywhere I look, my sisters run around, my moms converse about Father’s latest discoveries. Though I try to fight, the thoughts return, and I can’t help but notice how it’s beautiful but it’s horrible, it’s revolting but I never want to leave. 

The thing about the family is, a good amount of people here are truly practicing love, and I believe that everybodyhere truly attempts to practice love, but their minds get in the way. Father says Adoration is to clear this mind puzzle, to remind everyone why we are here, to be together happily with Father, but if anyone here is anything like me- and considering we all come from the same ‘dad’ I am assuming we are- Adoration sometimes just makes the mind issues even more confusing. I mean, of course it can help solve so many mind problems, but it can also make other ones worse. 

And one of the biggest issues I have noticed is the jealousy amongst everyone to win Father’s utmost love. He claims that we all have it, and we all believe him, but everyone wants to be Father’s number one, his prodigy, his special one. 

My family is willing to do whatever it takes to be Father’s best. Including me. I can’t help it, I want to practice love and be equal amongst my family, but I crave being Father’s favorite, being his number one.

I run into one of my sisters, Caroline, who is seventeen, but looks maybe fourteen. We hug, I notice she smells like goat cheese, and I question if I should say anything, then decide I better not. She smiles largely at me and speaks in a high pitch,

“Wow, you’re leaving next week!” 

I sigh and look at my feet, bare in the dirt like everyone else. I shrug my shoulders but don’t say anything. Caroline continues, 

“You must be so excited! You must have the longest list of things you want to do!”

I open my mouth but let it sit still for a moment before speaking, “Honestly, I don’t really have much I want to do. I’ve been so wrapped up, I guess I haven’t really thought about the outside world, I’ve just been enjoying my time here.”

Caroline nods and blinks quickly, “Wait, so this is your last Adoration!”

A deep pit knots itself in my stomach, “You’re right.”

I want the conversation to end, but Caroline continues, 

“If you don’t mind me asking,” she looks around and lowers the volume of her voice, “How do you always get Father to pick you as one of the firsts for ‘Dad Time’ during Adoration? And how do you get him to pick you every time? I only get chosen every couple Adorations!”

I look at Caroline’s wide thighs, then notice how her dress is bunched oddly at her stomach, and make my way up to her face, where freckles complement her white eyelashes and ill colored hair. I smile at her and shrug. 

Finally, the times comes for us to all take our seats on the ground for Father’s arrival. I sit next to Valery, Ava, and one of the babies, Sarah. She sits in my lap and holds my thumb- it takes all of her fingers to wrap around one of mine. 

The crowd grows silent as Father walks to the front, smiling at us all. I swear he looks right into my eyes and winks, even though nobody believes me. 

“My children, my lovers,” Father’s voice soothes a part of me that I don’t understand, but still desire to be appeased. 

“Adoration, ‘Dad’s Day’, Sunday, my favorite day of the week. The day where we all come together, as the beautiful, indestructible, loving, strong family we are,” -some of the moms wipe tears from under their swollen eyes- “a day where I get to show each and every one of you just how much I love you.”

Father pulls out a sheet that has an image of colorful swirls printed on it. He passes it down. Each family member over the age of 10 rips off one tab, then passes the sheet to the next. Those between the ages of 3 and 9 take half a tab, while anyone under 3 takes only one fourth. Father says too much can hurt the developing brain. 

When the sheet reaches me, I rip off my tab and look at it on my finger tip. How can something so small as to fit on my pinky prove to be so powerful? I place the tab on my tongue, then let my wet finger touch my lips and close my eyes, excited for the journey I am about to take. 

The first 45 minutes are always difficult, especially if Father chooses you for ‘Dad Time’ during this period. We usually sit around and create music or art during this. 

Though it feels like forever, the time does eventually pass, and Adoration can commence. The world becomes a different place, with each single fissure introducing a million different possibilities. Everywhere you look, everything becomes something else, reminds you of something important, teaches you some type of lesson. Your mind zooms in and out of your current situation and shows you the importance of balance, of structure, it shows you the way you’re supposed to live. 

Father has us chant for certain hours of Adoration, as well as consistently leaving a tape on of the chant. It goes, “Father loves you, he won’t hurt you, Father loves you, it’s only him”. This is heard 100% of the duration of Adoration. There are images of Father put up, with statements under his smiling face stating his love for all of us.

And, of course, there is ‘Dad Time’. ‘Dad Time’ is when Father commits thirty minutes to one single family member to show her his love. Everyone wants to get chosen, and each Adoration, he usually goes through about fifteen family members. I am almost always chosen, and have been since the day I turned thirteen. Father very rarely takes anyone under thirteen to ‘Dad Time’, but he does want to show younger family members his love sometimes too, so he does occasionally. I don’t think he has taken anyone under three, though. 

As the time passes, my mind continues to deconstruct in ways I can never put to words. My essence falls, my sense of reality becomes immersed in an acidic pool of mixed senses. 

I feel myself melt deeper and deeper into myself, like I am shrinking in my own skin, and suddenly I cannot feel the difference between the dirt and grass between my toes. 

I feel blissful, and my attention is suddenly drawn to the horses. They roam without fear, without ego, without the senses I so despise. I use my hands to push myself up from the ground and start to walk towards the horses, to run with them, but am promptly stopped by Elizabeth, one of my moms, who tells me that it is my turn for ‘Dad Time’.

Butterflies dance around the inside of my stomach, and each time a wing hits my lining, I don’t know if I am excited or nervous. 

I make my way to Father’s hut. I knock three times, as I should, and slowly open the bright red door.

“Hello Father,” I say, going in for a big hug.

“Edrei!” My father exclaims, “My beautiful, special girl. How is your Adoration journey going today?” He turns around in his chair slowly, as he cannot move swiftly do to his on-growing age.

“Very lovely, Father, I am really experiencing the realms,” I look at his face, and it begins to age more than it already is. He ages beyond humanly possible, each second adding another ten years to his face. 

“I am so happy for you,” Father exclaims, “My dear Edrei, I’m sure you know this is last Adoration for a while, and I want you to enjoy it, so I won’t keep you too long.”

I sit on the bed, on top of the blue wool blanket, “You could never keep me too long, Father.”

And when I say that, it comes out without force, naturally, as though I am a robot programmed to speak those exact words. I don’t even think about the words as the exit my brain, I simply feel them disperse.

“Edrei, I am a loving man, as you know. I want all of my children to experience the outside world for themselves. I want them to know what’s out there. But, I do this so they understand why I have provided this secure life for them,” He speaks lightly, like feathers drip from his tongue, “That being said, you must promise to never release any information about the family- what we do, where we are- never, no matter what. The community is sacred, and the outside world does not understand sacristy.”

As he speaks, I watch his wrinkles turn to geometric shapes, and it is hard to focus on his speech while he continues, “Edrei, this is always the hardest thing I ever have to say to my beautiful children, but if you release any information to the outside world, you will be ‘Freed’ by means of betrayal.”

I try not to gasp, but I am shocked that Father would ever go that far. He always states that he wants his daughters to experience life before they are ‘Freed’, and I cannot imagine him cutting this short for anyone he creates (besides a male).

“Edrei, baby, you know how much I love you.” He grabs my hands and they shake, appearing miniature in his, “That’s why you must understand that this hurts me more than it hurts you. You could never imagine the pain of having one of your own children be ‘Freed.’ There is nothing more painful.”

I want to ask Father why he would Free his own children if there is nothing more painful.

“Now, my beautiful, beautiful Edrei,” Father grins at me and lifts up my chin, “Let’s get to it, time is running out.”

I am timid and my mind is racing. I am still melting into myself, my mind acting as putty, so taking in all this information is a lot. I feel words against my body, I hear colors in my mind.

Nonetheless, Father undresses me and lays me down on the bed. I quiver when he touches my right thigh and grazes my hipbone. 

Just as Father removes his pants and begins to show me his love, I am struck with a sudden, terrifying question, did Father Free Channing?

“Father,” I say as he moans, pulling me closer, my body miniscule next to his, “Father!”

He takes my pleads as pleasure. 

“Father, Channing is still out there, right?” The words exit between Father’s thrusts. The thoughts returning at a much more intense rate, and I feel that if I do not speak these thoughts I will implode.

“I’m almost done baby,” He says out of breath. I sigh and let him continue until he is pleased, as my head turns over and stares out the window at the horses.