Fiction Friday: Micropoetry Based on the Book

mormoni

Leann was not a kid person,
despite being in a Church that prized children
to the exclusion of everything else,
though Mother believed the Church would change her;
perhaps if polyandry were allowed,
Leann—who was like Scarlett O’Hara at the barbecue at Twelve Oaks,
writing to a dozen elders at a time—
would meet the one elder who had not been conditioned
to want what she did not.

We were so unlike the Jonas family,
which consisted of a half dozen teenaged girls;
“Greater by the Dozen” was their family slogan,
for they were of the Quiverfull movement.
Leann believed all they needed was a set of sextuplets
to make them “Cheaper by the Dozen,”
so they would get a spot on 60 Minutes.
To Leann, big families were overrated,
for they lacked the intimacy of small ones.

We were archetypes in a stage play,
even as I felt those around us were stereotypes in a TV series.
Leann was known as the pretty strawberry one,
Kath, the popular chocolate one,
& I, the quiet vanilla one—
a Neapolitan concoction that perfectly completed one another.
As for Donna Marley,
who was known as Twenty-Seven & Unmarried,
she was the hot fudge, whipped cream, & cherry,
all in one.

Kath’s African lineage made her one of the most popular girls in the ward.
To Mick, she was the “white chocolate sista” he liked to tease,
& though Kath replied that she may have been a freak of nature,
he was just a freak.

Leann Sweeney,
who had come as Scarlett O’Hara
in the white dress at the beginning of Gone with the Wind,
had the kind of charm that was disarming,
whereas I felt like Melanie Hamilton,
with Elder Roberts as my gentle, noble Ashley,
who was as loyal to the Church
as Ashley Wilkes had been to the Lost Cause of the Confederacy.

An Irish-Catholic girl coming of age in the Deep South during the New Millennium finds her family splintered when two Mormon missionaries come to her door, their presence and promise unearthing long-buried family secrets, which lead to her excommunication and exile.

Fiction Friday: Micropoetry Based on the Book

mormoni

Life was marked with holidays & celebrations,
with weddings & funerals,
& the seemingly endless baby showers
that happened in the Green Haven Ward.
In early October,
there was Trunk or Treat,
when all the members would line up their cars
in the Church parking lot
& pop open their trunks filled with goodies.
These weren’t our neighbors
but the same people we saw every Sunday.
In this modern era,
we knew those who lived across town
better than those who lived beside us,
for Mormons surrounded themselves with those
who understood their lingo,
their culture,
& their way of life.

Leann Sweeney,
the smiley-faced girl
with the Shirley Temple curls
couldn’t bear to say no to anyone,
whereas Kath Wakefield,
the black albino girl,
was brought up to say no
& to say it often,
& then there was I,
who’d simply wanted Mother to say yes once
after a lifetime of saying no.

I rarely thought of my high school days,
which were like a Gaussian blur.
I had befriended the sheltered, studious girls there—
the ones who ate from brown paper bags
& hung out with their parents on the weekends.
They had invited me to Mass
but never to their house,
& it had never occurred to me to invite them to mine,
for I hadn’t ever felt I needed a friend beyond the hours
I spent at Green Haven Catholic High School.
Commencement was the last time I saw any of them,
but now I craved the type of friends who knew me
as I knew myself at home.

We appeared as the perfect nuclear family:
mom, dad, 2.0 kids,
all of us well-groomed & well-mannered.
It had meant so much to Mother
that we attend Church as a family.
Mother went for herself,
David went for her,
I went for Elder Roberts,
& Caitlin went for Elder Carmichael.

Though I had known David’s aunt & uncle,
Mother’s family was still largely a mystery.
All I knew was that she had been an only, lonely child,
whose father was Irish & whose mother was Russian.
On the top shelf of a bookcase,
that held all of Mother’s crystal figurines,
their picture was as familiar to me as my mother’s face,
& years would pass before,
by chance,
I would take it down to dust it,
only to drop it.
When I removed the picture from the broken frame,
I looked at the back,
hoping for a date,
only to see the names Clayton & Marjorie Maynard
instead of George Francis McCarrick & Katerina Kasparkova.
Through researching my family history,
I would learn that these people were strangers;
when I looked up my grandparents’ names,
it was as if they had never existed,
& I knew that Mother had joined a Church
where family history was prized,
only to have made hers a lie.

An Irish-Catholic girl coming of age in the Deep South during the New Millennium finds her family splintered when two Mormon missionaries come to her door, their presence and promise unearthing long-buried family secrets, which lead to her excommunication and exile.

Fiction Friday: Micropoetry Based on the Book

mormoni

I was plunged into the water & arose anew.
I looked at my hands, which were still,
& that was when I realized the trembling was inside.

I had expected a sprinkling of water on the head,
not the immersion process I had just gone through.
Had one hair on my head come up out of the water,
I would have had to do it again.
I smiled at Elder Roberts,
for how wonderful was it that my future husband
had led me down the path?

He hesitated before baptizing David,
but my chaste young love knew it was the only way
to get Mother sealed in the temple
& on her way back to her divine origin.
It occurred to me then that
David had never loved God enough,
or even himself enough,
to give Him his soul,
but he loved Mother enough
to forsake everything
he had never believed in.
To get Mother to finally marry him,
he had to do it on her terms,
but when had she ever done anything on his?

David’s sparkling water glass was empty.
He held it, twirling it by the stem,
looking at it as though the answers
to all of life’s quandaries were there,
as crystal clear as the glass.
Caitlin was not with us,
for Mother, David, & I were connected in a way
that she would never be.
Her “otherness” set her apart,
& when I went to bed that night,
I realized had she never been born,
our lives,
as they were now,
wouldn’t be much different.

“To peace and love,” I said instead,
raising my tumbler in a toast.
“To love,” Mother said, smiling again.
“To peace,” David said,
& we lifted our glasses,
clinking them together,
the sound seeming to ripple through
the room in endless echoes,
signaling the beginning of the life to come.

An Irish-Catholic girl coming of age in the Deep South during the New Millennium finds her family splintered when two Mormon missionaries come to her door, their presence and promise unearthing long-buried family secrets, which lead to her excommunication and exile.

Fiction Friday: Micropoetry Based on the Book

mormoni

Our souls had not been created
but simply given earthly vessels
for these diaphanous substances to be poured into.
We had existed before this life.
Because I had not joined the ranks of Lucifer
but of God during the great war in heaven
in the pre-mortal life,
I had been given a body—
only to have to prove myself a second time
that I was worthy enough to be reunited with it
in the afterlife.
It was alleged that memories of this premortal life
were forgotten when we passed through the veil,
with that first breath of life,
& it seemed like the Mormons were the recoverers
of repressed memories,
for how could I deny something
that I was told
I would not remember anyway?

Sister Kyle was floating on a cloud in Kolob,
she was so joy-filled.
When had the Baptists or the Pentecostals
or any of the other churches in town
ever reached out to me like this,
much less cared about me?
My eyes fell on many of the members,
all of whom were smiling & encouraging—
all except Sister Wiley,
whose expression was dark & cunning.
I believed then that it was because
she saw through me,
but only a faker could recognize another one.
She knew that I knew what she was,
even as I knew that she knew what I wasn’t.

A look of realization,
of incredible awe,
came over Elder Roberts.
“I—I think I love—,” he said,
but just then,
the double doors before us opened,
& the rest of his sentiment went unspoken.
I could only guess what he had meant to say then,
wondering had he finished it,
if things would’ve turned out differently between us.

Caitlin was holding her rosary,
the last vestige of our former faith,
as Mother had taken down all the crucifixes in our house,
for Mormons preferred to focus on the resurrection
rather than the crucifixion.
Mother didn’t seem to see me,
but David—
David looked at me as he always did—
with a love that changed not.

My eye was single to the glory of Elder Roberts—
to the promise of celestial glory.
Just as Elder Johnson had said our husbands
would call up their wives from the grave
to ascend into the celestial kingdom alongside them,
so would Elder Roberts,
in the name of Jesus,
call my name
& raise me up from my watery grave,
to prepare me for life as a future Mormon wife.

An Irish-Catholic girl coming of age in the Deep South during the New Millennium finds her family splintered when two Mormon missionaries come to her door, their presence and promise unearthing long-buried family secrets, which lead to her excommunication and exile.

New Kindle title for sale: $2.99 (free with Kindle Unlimited). Also known as “The Mormon Missionary’s Mistress.”

From the glacial terrain of Bear Creek, Idaho, to the lush landscape of Deep South, Florida, Elder Cather, a Mormon missionary, meets Sister Wiley, a three-time divorcee, current temple wife, and mother of a teenage daughter. At the risk of being caught with their temple garments down, facing excommunication by the Church and shunned from the only life they know, they fight against the rules imposed by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints by living life on their terms. However, Elder Cather will learn a heartbreaking, coming-of-age lesson from the fickle one who accepted his greatest gift. The Book of Jeff: Another Testament of Mindy Wiley is a hypnogogic trip with a heavy hit of magical realism and a dose of spiritual occultism. It is a Southern Gothic horror with shades of Shirley Jackson, laced with the absurdity of extreme religiosity prevalent in the American Deep South. It is the story of the sexual fever that grips young men who must think only of God, the sexual frozenness that grips middle-aged women who must think only of their husbands and the dire consequences that can result when these two forces meet.

Fiction Friday: Micropoetry Based on the Book

mormoni

Elder Roberts would be baptizing me,
for I had chosen him.
His face brightened when I looked at him
as the other elders turned away to help fill the font,
straighten chairs,
& pass out hymnbooks.
When I looked at this elder,
I didn’t realize that I was looking at my past,
not my future.

Mother looked swallowed up in her baptismal costume,
while David, barefoot, looked so unlike himself,
the hems of the trousers rising above his ankles.
I couldn’t help but think he would’ve looked
more like himself in a toga—
like a conqueror & not the conquered,
for the white onesie the Church had them wear
was infantile & unflattering.
My gaze met his,
& I gave him a look that I told him I felt the same way.
Perhaps being seen like this by the other members
(the Seventh-Day Adventist church down the road from our house
still washed one another’s feet)
was their way of humbling us,
of stripping away our pride.
Mother never looked my way once,
seemingly oblivious that by doing this,
she was rejecting the faith of her fathers,
of her childhood,
& of her youngest child.

I wondered how David’s interview had gone.
I imagined him giving only yes or no answers,
causing them to wonder just a bit.
Our eyes met across the room,
& it was as if we were the only two people in it.
For that moment in time,
we understood each other as we never had before.
For love, we would bury ourselves in the waters of baptism,
drown ourselves in holy water,
only to be resurrected by a lifeguard in white pants.
We would arise from our watery tombs as changed people,
for our lives would never be the same.

I would pretend,
& he would pretend,
& one day,
we would realize the lie we had lived
had become the truth somewhere along the way;
the beautiful lie would have burrowed itself deep inside us,
until we could fight it no longer.
I felt the Church pulling at my heartstrings even now,
strumming a melody that was beautiful & painful—
beautiful because of Elder Roberts,
because of all these people here,
welcoming me into their Church family,
but painful because I’d want so much to believe in it all,
& yet faith complete would always elude me.

When I was a little girl,
I saw a peach & purple seashell in the ocean,
whole & perfectly formed.
I’d tried to get to it before the waves came & stirred up the sand,
but just as my fingers had grazed it,
the tide had come & reclaimed it.
I never thought about all the other little treasures I’d captured that day—
I’d thought only of the one that had gotten away.

An Irish-Catholic girl coming of age in the Deep South during the New Millennium finds her family splintered when two Mormon missionaries come to her door, their presence and promise unearthing long-buried family secrets, which lead to her excommunication and exile.

Fiction Friday: Micropoetry Based on the Book

mormoni

My agreement to an interview,
which I suspected would be an audition
to become a member of this Church family,
began my vow of being true to the Church in this life,
only to be shackled to in the next.

My baptismal outfit
was neither a costume
nor a uniform,
but a sackcloth of humility,
for it shielded the world
from my femininity.

To the boy I loved,
I confessed my lack of sin,
finding it ironic that being a good Catholic girl
had prepared me to become an even better Mormon one.
When it was over,
he gave me a weak smile,
& I felt I had not only passed
the pre-baptismal test,
I had passed his marriage qualifications test as well.

I had been brought up to wait for marriage,
just as my Mother had often said she’d waited
for my father,
but it was different for widows,
for their virginity had already been claimed.
Though she had often said that she & David
were in a committed relationship,
I believed there was no greater honor
than to be called wife,
for the covenant had not only been bound
by the state,
but by God.

Elder Roberts looked at me in a way
I realized just then
that David had,
at times,
looked at me.

Logline for Because of Mindy Wiley An Irish-Catholic girl coming of age in the Deep South during the New Millennium finds her family splintered when two Mormon missionaries come to her door, their presence and promise unearthing long-buried family secrets, which lead to her excommunication and exile.

Fiction Friday: Micropoetry Based on the Book

mormoni

I could choose to allow Brad’s death to destroy my life,
or I could choose to embrace those who were alive.
I chose life,
for I wanted to make new memories,
not relive old ones.

Mother had convinced me I was living the best years of my life,
for I had found it so easy to make friends in the Church.
I wanted to tell David he was wrong,
that the Church hadn’t changed me,
for I had already been prepared for it.

Brownsville Assembly of God was situated in the seedy part of Pensacola.
“The Pensacola Outpouring,” as it had been known,
had become a national sensation when people
had started claiming supernatural healings.
Hundreds had renewed their faith & hundreds more had gotten saved.
David had said it was nothing more than mass hysteria,
calling the pastors ravenous wolves,
who devoured the souls (and pocketbooks) of weak lambs.

Religion was a show to Caitlin,
who was fascinated by the idea
of demons being cast out of people.
Her effervescent approach to what she deemed as
crucifixation (her term for religious fanaticism)
sometimes bordered on sacrilege.

I fancied the LDS Singles Conference like summer camp,
imagining Hayley Mills’ version of The Parent Trap,
except rather than sing campfire songs,
write letters home,
& make birdcages out of popsicle sticks,
I would not be coming of age,
but I would be of age.

Logline for Because of Mindy Wiley An Irish-Catholic girl coming of age in the Deep South during the New Millennium finds her family splintered when two Mormon missionaries come to her door, their presence and promise unearthing long-buried family secrets, which lead to her excommunication and exile.

Fiction Friday: Micropoetry from the Book

mormoni

Like the Mormons,
Brad the Catholic,
the soon-to-be priest,
& my bosom friend,
relied on a feeling,
or rather,
my lack of feeling for him,
to enter a life of celibacy,
poverty,
& obedience;
the last two he had honored
because it was all he knew,
even as the first I had honored
because I had never known any better.

Twilight on the beach
signaled the remains of the day,
before the dregs of the night
were taken out like trash
with the tide.
There were no women sunbathing,
men surfing,
children frolicking.
Paradise wasn’t people
but nature,
for nature did not pollute itself,
& mankind’s abuse of it
would turn human beings
into an endangered species.

The yellow flag was up,
warning us of dangerous marine life.
We should have saluted that flag;
we should’ve respected it,
but it was as if I had a fever,
for I was delirious
with the sudden lack of sameness
my life had become.

The panorama of indigo,
burnt orange,
& the line between blue & green
was ever changing;
where sky & sea met,
marked the edge of the world.
I was the unnamed narrator—
having a moment
in the story that was my life.

He’d created it all.
Though other worlds might be,
there had never been,
as the Mormons believed,
another God.
There was no eternal progression
but eternal life—
when we were perfected in Him.
Mormon heaven was mortals
becoming God or Goddess
of their own planet,
but mine was inhabiting the one
God had perfected.

Logline for Because of Mindy Wiley An Irish-Catholic girl coming of age in the Deep South during the New Millennium finds her family splintered when two Mormon missionaries come to her door, their presence and promise unearthing long-buried family secrets, which lead to her excommunication and exile.

#Fiction Friday: #Novelines from the Book

Mormoni

“I came not to send peace, but a sword.” (Matthew 10:34)

Nineteen-ninety-nine was the summer of my Mormon soldier. The idea that God was all-powerful, but all-loving, was incongruous to me. Due to pre-existing conditions, I believed the former.

Those first stirrings of a spiritual quickening were like a hurricane, blowing the facade that was our family away.

Memories of that long, hot summer brought me all the way back to Green Haven, Florida, when the LDS mish showed us another way to live.

Yes, my brief life as a Mormon had been sweet, but my life as an ex-Mormon turned out to be even sweeter.

What a magnificent illusion the Plan of Happiness! It became a magnificent obsession with my mother, who prized it above me.

Had even God Himself eternally progressed? Were we all as He once was? The Church made me see humans as gods, God as human.

I’d grown up near the Amish, in a Catholic home, & now Mormonism had touched our lives–all because I had answered a knock on the door.

My mother & sister had found solace in Catholicism; I had found mine in the humanism of my stepfather, whose doctrine was, “Do no harm”.

Those first three months I knew him, he was on a mission. It was the only time I ever knew him as he was then.

Did the light come from him, or was it the light of Jesus shining in him? Just who was it I fell in love with that day?

Every day, I post 3 tweets:  a #novelines tweet (a line from my novel; any good piece of writing has quotable quotes), a #140story tweet, or a #micropoetry tweet, that is pulled from, or based on my novel, “Because of Mindy Wiley”.  https://sarahleastories.com/because-of-mindy-wiley/.  I post these under my fictional character account, https://twitter.com/KatrynNolan.  Every week, on “Fiction Friday”, I will be blogging 5-10 of my best tweets.