Minister's Wife by Sharnee Vonn-Burton (short story to read .TXT) 📖

I grew up in a small community of religious zealots, and at fifteen years old I was married off to forty eight year old Pastor Lenny, who shared me around with the male members of the congregation who put a little 'extra' on the plate on Sundays. Now, at 31 years old I have my own children (father unknown, thanks to Pastor Lenny); fifteen year old Randall who has discovered his sexuality, and a daughter, Rosanne who, having just turned twelve is on the cusp of puberty, and is confused about her body and feelings.

I'm increasingly worried about Randall, who, being influenced by Lenny, has an abnormal view of women as insubordinates and second class citizens. Randall is full of testosterone and is rapidly becoming a man. I have sometimes caught him ogling my body, and on more than a few occasions he has burst into the bathroom while I am showering or dressing.

My earliest memory of Pastor Lenny was when I was around 6 years old. I remember sitting in the front row of the church in our small remote community of around 130 – 150 people. I recall his fiery sermons as he strutted back and forth as though he was on the stage. He shouted “halleluiah”, and the whole congregation would shout “halleluiah”. He would raise his hands toward Heaven and the people would mirror his actions. Following the lead of the adults around me, I too would get caught up in the feverish chanting. I would watch in awe as he healed people of their illnesses, of their pain and suffering, simply by placing his hand on their forehead, or different parts of their bodies, depending on their ailment.

I had ailments of my own, for which Pastor Lenny gave me special attention. He told my parents that I was in danger from ‘The Dark One’, as he called him. He told them I was susceptible to possession, and that he needed to give me his protection. They were quite worried and I often heard them talking about it in their room. My mother would be crying, and my father would comfort her, telling her to have faith in Pastor Lenny. Once every week my parents would take me to Pastor Lenny’s small cottage behind the church. We would go into a special room which was illuminated with candles all around. In the centre of the room was a pedestal with a small bath mounted on top. I would undress and lay in the bath, and the Pastor would come in with a large container of water, which he had informed us was holy water, and he would bathe me from head to toe. He would lovingly wash my hair and massage my shoulders and would make sure that there was no part of my body that hadn’t been cleansed with the Holy water. I felt privileged and safe in his gentle hands. I looked forward to our weekly visit and the feeling of his healing hands on my young body.

Afterwards, my parents would sit in the living room and drink tea with the Pastor and his 2 wives, and speak of things regarding the church, and other things such as the crops the community grew and the livestock; pigs and chickens. I would play on the floor with toys the Pastor kept in a box, although he had no children of his own.

Pastor Lenny would pat his knee which was his little signal to sit on his knee or his lap and I would run to him for our special cuddle. My parents always thanked him for keeping me safe for 6 years and prayed that he would continue to do so.

Publication Date: 01-18-2021

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