Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Illustrate the meaning of "Actions Speak Louder than Words" (without using the actual phrase). (02/21/08)
- TITLE: Detours
By Marita Thelander
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She slammed her door and threw herself onto her bed. She could hear her dad spewing obscenities to an empty room. Bill’s family learned to steer clear of him when this happened, lest they get the brunt of his anger. Bill’s co-workers were also familiar with his language skills, but hey, who among them were any better, right? He fit right in.
In the stillness of the night, Sarah held her breath and listened carefully. She could hear her Dad’s snoring through the walls as she slipped out of bed and pulled on a sweatshirt. With the stealth of a cat burglar, she slid her window open, popped off the screen and lowered herself to the ground.
“Saturday night just got better.” She giggled as she climbed into the black Camero waiting half a block away. Jason pulled her in close for a quick nibble on the neck and was pleased with the squeal in response.
“We’ll have us some fun tonight,” Jason flashed his perfect white teeth in a big school boy grin.
It wasn’t long before they found themselves lounged around a campfire in the middle of the woods with a dozen or so friends. Sipping beers and stupid antics seemed to be the direction this party was headed.
Jason and Sarah excused themselves from the party and said they were headed home before anyone could hand Jason another beer. “Better safe than sorry,” Jason winked at his friends.
Somewhere around three A.M. as Sarah slid back into bed, her mind wandered off to the 'detour' they had taken on the way home. She knew Jason loved her. He told her many times, but the fear of lying to him started to sink in. He had pressured her frequently to go on the pill, but she just didn’t know how to do it without her parent’s knowledge. That was three weekend ‘detours’ ago.
“Sarah, get your…..” Her dad was already at it.
“I’m up. I’m up.” Her head pounded out the rhythm of her Dad’s fist on her door. Attempting to hide the visual signs of her hangover, she ducked into the bathroom. The fact that she had only slept four hours, didn’t help the headache one iota.
“We have thirty minutes before we leave for church.” Bill shouted to the entire household as if he really needed to yell for his wife and daughter to hear him.
Hmph. Church…..whatever. Sarah muttered as she waited for the shower to warm up.
Fifteen minutes later her Dad pounded on the bathroom door and flung a storm of cuss words at Sarah. “Hurry up. We can’t be late.”
Settled into the family pew, Sarah assumed her position: slumped down, feet on the hymnal rack in front of her, and eyes avoiding contact with any of the sisterly saints that attempted to greet her. Her mother glared at her from her spot at the organ.
They really have no clue, do they, Sarah thought to herself. These people don’t see it.
The organ droned on and on and then suddenly stopped. Men in suits filed in and took their seats on the platform.
Here we go. Sarah reached for her mp3 ear buds and stuck one in her right ear and hid the cord with her long hair.
“Shall we stand as we prepare to go before our Lord and Savior this glorious morning?” Sarah could hear the big booming voice over her music. As she stood, she reached in her pocket and hit the volume button to turn it up some more.
“Our gracious heavenly Father…” The booming voice prayed.
“You may be seated” Pastor Jennings instructed as he approached the pulpit. “And thank you, Brother Bill, for such and elegant entrance into our worship service today.”
Sarah rolled her eyes in disgust as she cranked her mp3 volume up as high as it could go. Her dad slid into the seat next to her, smiling like nothing was wrong. Immediately, Sarah felt sick and lunged out of the pew towards the exit.
Unsure if she was finished, Sarah’s hand trembled as she wiped her mouth with her sleeve... Maybe I’m more hung over than I thought. Or maybe it was the sight of that hypocrite Deacon father of mine behind a pulpit. She gagged on the remains of the taste in her mouth. Or maybe it was the three weekend ‘detours’.
Now she really felt sick.
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