Sunday Morning. 25th July
The alarm clock rung out at 7:00 am. I dragged my half asleep corps from its slumber. I had 10 minuets to get ready. The shower was cold. Trickling water blurred my vision, this was something I was used to, objects and people blocking me from the full picture, so I could never see what was beyond what I had been taught by my parents and church school, you know the whole 'Rock music was made by the spawn of Satan'.I dressed in my Sunday best with my hair combed and my brown leather shoes freshly polished. Mother called me from the bottom of the staircase. "Breakfast Caleb!"
Mother set out toast and spreads over the table. Father sat adjacent to me sipping his orange juice and reading the newspaper. The expression on his face rarely changing from a frown. He glanced at the assembled table and set down his newspaper. He put his hands together in preparation for breakfast prayer and me and Mother followed. Father began "Father we thank thee for the night, and for the pleasant morning light. For rest and food and loving care, and all that makes the day so fair. Amen." "Amen." me and Mother said in unison. Father had said that prayer every morning, since before I could remember. Was I the only one who found it meaningless? Why was I blindly reciting these words that had no purpose anymore that had been drained of their worth? I dare not question my father though, it wasn't worth the consequences.
We arrived at Sunday service at 7:45 am. Fifteen minuets before anyone else. Father was the Vicar of St Mary's Church. Mother made refreshments for afterwards as I distributed the Bibles. Was this all I was destined for? Would these boring 17 years of my life just be the start to a miserable existence, where I was in a bubble of my own scepticism in Christianity, unable to share my true personal views with another soul.
After service had begun and the rows of villagers blankly staring at my Father were almost full, the church doors creaked open and a face cape from behind it. A girl, her angelic face glowed. She had blonde layered hair and black makeup around her huge ice blue eyes. She wore a plain black t-shirt that oddly was turned inside out, blue jeans and some sort of high leather boots. She looked reckless, full of life, misplaced. I liked it. Walking to the back of the building and leaning on the wall, she swung her arms confidently and tapped out a small tune with her red nails on the painted stone. The mere sight of this rebellious looking girl gave me a sense of hope strangely, like I could leave this hellish life behind me.