Shancia Speaks: Short Stories Superb!

I approached as the archbishop preached and it seemed I had disturbed the summoning of God. Sitting there in their riveting attire, all were fixated upon His grace, not the grace of God, but the man...yes, the man. They turned sharply together, and I almost felt that my shadow resembled that of satan. Their gazes sure made me feel like it, fierce, disgusted and shocked. Not one smile nor holy welcome, just attitudes of " well here's an intrusion." The person I sought was immersed in the white congregation and I thought at least she would offer some of the grace from His grace. Instead, her demeanor spoke otherwise and without saying a word, she spoke volumes and it told me that I had interrupted her downpouring of reverence. A place where the presence of God is supposed to be felt from miles away reeked of haughty disdain, superiority complexes and materialistic pride. I was left aghast, for not too long ago I was contemplating my return to this place after being forced o...

 You stand there and watch me go through hell, stoic and in awe as your aura fails to disguise your thoughts of, "how the hell does she make it through." You know, I never asked you to walk through hell with me, I just thought that opening my door to you meant that you would have at least made the journey somewhat bearable. But no, instead you pay the volcano for its lava and secretly pour more in my way. You make deals with the sun to scorch upon my back as I trod, and you make friends with the devil so that he pops and petrifies me at every turn. You came with a mission but my desperation for love cast a veil that obscured your schemes. Some hero you are! A disgruntled knight without a horse, I let your shining sword confuse me. I thought you were here to fight for me, I thought that glitter was gold. Instead, you tricked me with your shield and pierced me with the very sword that you declared would protect me. You did not come to save, you came to "hit and run." ...

There is a void we try to replenish but we end up hungry each time. We eat but we are not nourished, no sustenance of any kind. None of us remember ever being prepared for what life serves on a platter, we just know that at times we do not get to choose the calories we consume. And so, as we grow, our mass increases but it holds a suffocating space. We become engorged by horrid relationships, awful friendships, unhealthy self-concepts, poor opinions, and draining connections. The plate presents itself continually, always landing on our tables and it is never balanced; just a rusty, dented platter, which keeps serving food from the past, reeking of regret. Saturated with oils of pain and questionable amounts of sodium, we sit, and are forced to feast. A repetitive meal, tiring to the mind and atrocious to the heart. The stomach churns and eventually growls and then gurgles with toxins that make their way up the esophagus, yearning to regurgitate. It cannot contain anymore and so the vom...

Transactional humans are everywhere. Authenticity follows them like a lost shadow, it never catches up. Yet, their claims of love for others sing in praises themed "Alleluia" up towards the sky where even God runs to hide His face, for He does not champion misuse. Users of the alien kind, pretense is their most formidable trait, engulfed by gullible halos that lurk and prowl. Credulous victims, the ones who still believe in life are usually their prey. Their offers to help should be taken as lightly as a grain of salt. Distasteful at most, dealing with them always feels like you are surrounded by bitter walls. Negotiations with transactional people spark an onset of giant beads of sweat because your mind wanders to a time where they will count that favor and remind you of it in the most vicious of ways. Your anxiety heightens just at the thought of reproach and so, before you ask, you have already concocted a cocktail of exchange, to dress the future wound that would be infli...