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The Five Great Blemishes #1
Jacqueline Anderson
Provo, Utah

A Higher Faith


His word, it was so simple yet so complex. I never quite understood it, but I always followed it, for that is the way of my home. I am proud to say my home was a sanctuary for all those who followed God. The highest of the high faiths, the mountains of the sermons, the parted seas of Moses, the city of our Lord, so has been Utah since it was settled centuries ago. I was born into this blessed land where nothing would pollute our faith, and temptation could be held to the other side of our borders. We were always ridiculed as the higher faith, a faith so pure we could only drink water. But alas, that was good in a way, it showed the path others should take. They called us plain people, but that was quite all right. They said my dad had two wives, but I wish I could find this other mother of mine, maybe she would raise me less strictly. I was a true follower of the Mormon way, I went to church every Sunday and spread my knowledge of the Lord across the world in college.

Indeed the transition was seamless. We were who everyone would now look up to. Pure, chaste, clean, and wholesome, we were God’s children to run God’s country. So we welcomed Richardson with all our hearts and votes. As he took office, our new pastor came to town. She was one of ours, already a heroine here for her work in the athletic program, bringing over new converts from around the globe and working to better our society in our Army. We listened and we prayed, we prayed and we listened, while we listened we watched, we watched as we became the example for all to live by, unaltered and pure. We followed the way and were blessed with the gift to show the way. That’s what the stations in Salt Lake all said, and we were proud for it.

I graduated that fall, a straight A student who understood scripture better than anyone. I was proud for my accomplishments, and then I saw him and it all meant nothing.

The Bible told me to be a good wife no matter what, so I approached my Robert and called to him in a way only a woman can. He took me into his arms, and I was his. I quickly became his wife, and he was the only thing I could see. So I sat with him and was told how to show the way to God. He spoke, I listened. God made it easy for me and him. I was everything he wanted and he was everything I wanted, unlike that other woman who wouldn’t even make herself pretty for her man. What an ingrate! She wouldn’t even wear high heels and then claimed it to be HER faith? Heretics are the worst of the sinners, worse than even the homosexual.

I did everything the Lord told me to do and in turn He rewarded me with everything I could dream of. I had my first child a year after we were married and all was great. As he grew and I had his darling sister, I did all that was asked of me. Bought exactly the right kind of clothes, the right kind of food, the Oaktree soda, and always smoked the Cowboy Lights every night after the Quaker show. This was Utah, we were born to follow the faith to the highest and we did just that. Every day the way god had it planned it for us. Up at seven, breakfast at 8, kids to school by 9, groceries at 10, clean at 11, television at 12, lunch at 1, nap at 2, pick kids up at 3, soccer at 4, make dinner 5, eat at 6, run at 7, watch primetime at 8, watch news at 11, make love at 11:30, sleep at midnight, watch our Cougars on Saturday, pray to the Lord for the Rockies and Broncos on Sunday. 10 years of this, hair the same holy gold as my cross, beautiful as ever. My kids grew and they were the greatest things I had ever seen, beating on those fat orange yellow boys from the unknown islands in school- damn those half-breeds, not gook enough to kill but not white enough to be saved! I carried on every day, the exact same thing and listened to god and followed his higher faith. Utah always had the highest faith, not the cheap imitations for the channel 10 crowd, not even the poor. Always the top of the line, name brand stuff right off of Channel 1 for us. If one day they to said switch from Henry Thomas to Tracy Randy, we did it that second. We knew the way of the lord was strict and if change was to be had, it was to be met without question. We read our Bibles daily, we prayed when told, and we never lost sight of the Lord. We prayed for success in whatever war was plaguing us now, be it against the terrorist, the gook, or the faggot and we got what we asked for... nothing but insincerity, for it was insincerity we prayed for while we claimed to be of a higher faith.

It was in 2020 I realized this. My Melissa now 8 and my Paul now 10, it was normal enough, up at 7, breakfast at 8, kids to school by 9 when I heard it…terrorists destroyed Jesus in Brazil. But no one died, no one was hurt, it was a stone icon, most likely dykes trying to clear land for their orgies or kikes thinking they were so smart in their devilish ways. Build another one, larger, and this time do it on the salt flats, we have more stone and will not allow the slightest terrorist whim to come close to the Son of God. But instead, it was Brazil fighting us, saying we disrupted the Lord! I realized this was blasphemy and changed the station, but it would not change! I thought I was dreaming, for the radio would not change stations! It was all the same, the message I know now to be true, "America lies, everyone dies".

I arrived at the grocery store and calmed down as I climbed out of my SUV. But I couldn't walk, I was unbalanced. I looked down and saw myself trying to balance in high heels, my feet at an ungodly and unnatural angle. I sneaked out the sneakers I had in my gym bag. I knew it was wrong, yet I felt strangely calm as I walked into the supermarket. I bumped into my friend, who hardly noticed anything. She told me that it was a dyke and the son of a traitor who committed the second crucifixion of Jesus… 'Second?' I thought. 'But Jesus retreated to Heaven and is seated at the right hand of his Father after the resurrection.'

I saw her cart full of ungodly sins, but yet it was the same as mine: poisons, caffeine, nicotine, nothing made by the Lord for consumption by his children. I remember thinking that I must be going mad. After all, God’s way followed his branding, his graven images, didn't it? I went home and saw nothing different, and then the doorbell rang. It was Lisa, the Satanist who my Robert saved himself from. No, not Satanist, Latter Day Saint... why did that name sound familiar? She smiled, and I knew it, I knew now why I was going mad.

“The dyke slithers like a snake at night and poisons her prey, waiting for her new pet to be maddened and enamoured at her feet when she knocks at the door pretending to beg for change.” I heard the filth from the television and quickly shut it off.

“I saw you at the market. Are you ready to give yourself to God once again?”

“But are we not already of a higher faith?” I replied.

“I am, we all were, but the greatest test Job faced was the blindness of his children.”

I relaxed, then coughed and sweated and I looked in the mirror and saw that I was twice my size.

“It’s ok,” Lisa said. “At least you can still see your toes... eh, somewhat.”

We spent all afternoon praying for forgiveness and reading the third book, the unexplained testament that made us the higher faith. Our prayers were then interrupted by the police and my former friend was there.

“I told you she was poisoned by a dyke! Let yourself die, Jackie! You are innocent and you will still go to heaven if you sacrifice your body for the good of all!” she exclaimed, and I laughed until I couldn't see through the tears. Two women praying, and all they saw were two women on their knees, one in the garb of a heathen New Yorker, so of course we must be two homosexuals consummating our dire sins.

It all came back to me now, the uproar in 2006 over the mysterious murder of one of our own, she who I know now as the Lady of Peace. We were told she was an ungodly monster, but had she not died for her faith? I saw my former friend’s skin tone, island Negro; she was the sister of the pastor, the one who led us toward the true path of God, who drugged and blinded us. Was it not an island negro who committed the murder? I remembered the hero's treatment she received. Could the pastor be the killer? I never would want to know, but Lisa and I just sat and smiled, awaiting our turn to follow our faith in deep prayer, belief I hadn't experienced so profoundly since college.

Then Robert came home early. He felt the same thing. He must have. Why else would he expose his real head and not the godly fur he wore even to bed?

“What’s going on here? That’s my wife!” The bizarre way he pointed reminded me of a bygone concept of the higher faith, one he was only exercising to save me. If this were any other state I would be dead. But in Utah everyone remembered something of the higher faith so they just shook their heads, fined us for disturbing the peace and went back to their rudiments.

We knew our children were hopeless so we gave them up for adoption, undertook the mission of the Lady of Peace, and adopted two beautiful orphans from New York. I now stand with Lisa in the church across from the opera house. My weakened body can barely stand the steps to climb, but the Lord makes me stronger each day that I am free of the poisons of American life. I remarried Robert, with Lisa as co-spouse. This is in name only. Robert still shares my bed, and Lisa acts mostly as our spiritual guide and friend. She minds the children while we preach and minister to the sick in the poor neighborhoods, and we are left alone at night while she reaches out to the sinners and dangerous. Yet this is a useful double union, one that was accepted by the higher faith centuries ago, if only to show the world of New York an important lesson of the Lady. Our children also have two mothers.

I jest, yet I feel that the hate of the pseudo-Christianity has poisoned even the most devout and I struggle to understand why. So I pray for them, and I never forget the Lady’s final words.

Forgive them, they know not what they do.

 

The Endless Herd of Buffalo
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