Scars

by Megan Finsel

Every scar has a story,
even the ones you can’t see
when you look at her
the ones crisscrossing her heart like a map
telling where all she has been and what all has happened.

She is a walking novel,
a compilation of the lies she has been told
and the lies she has believed
the words people have said
sketched for eternity into her flesh.

A civil war rages within her,
although she is taking up arms,
the enemy is throwing daggers into her self-worth.
While her demons
chase her in circles around the room inside her head,
telling her what all she is not,
and repeating every ugly nickname she ever had.

Bio: I’m a Special Education major with a love for books. Writing is not only a hobby, it’s my passion; it’s how I connect with the world by share my thoughts and emotions. If you want to get to know me, you need to read my stories, because I put a piece of myself into each one. My goal is to inspire at least one person with my work; then I know I’ve done my job.

Today As I Walked

By Annette Kinship

…downtown called upon me to notice the many beautiful sights. There are buildings of great importance: a well-known museum; a magnificent looking bank with a Gold dome; an old theatre where famous plays and dances had been seen and an Old Catholic church of great size.

It is fall and the leaves around town were at their height of beauty in color. The old church was wrapped around with leaves, on vines, of golden yellows, brilliant oranges and romantic reds. I stopped to look at this master piece of a building with all its glory: the pillars, the stone construction and stained glass windows.

I became curious as I saw movement through one of the windows. I wondered, “A woman?” Then I saw two bodies. “Are they kissing?” I said, wondering as I turned around to see if anyone had heard.

Why would it seem so strange for them to be kissing? What deemed such importance to my soul? Possibly because the Catholic Church has such an incredible reputation of self-control.
. . . (I began to sing a song from the 70’s)?

Gazing upward into the window, I realized they were definitely kissing and hugging, even more intently now. They appeared relentlessly not wanting to release. Suddenly they backed away from one another relinquishing their lust. For a moment I thought to walk away, but they swiftly and ravenously molded back into each other’s arms. I could see them fairly clear as they were behind a window that had obviously been replaced with clear glass, as the stained glass in all the rest of the windows seemed, still, to be intact. The windows height revealed them from thigh to above there heads, which allowed me to see the closeness in which they stood.

Were they so encapsulated that they had forgotten about the clear window? I stood gazing, exhilarated by the beauty of the stone and fall leaves, and the passion of two human beings within a high society catholic church embracing their desires with such efficacy. Romanticism engulfing me in this rare and courageous moment they were sharing.

As I thought upon these things, he reached for her leg at her thigh and pulled it to his hip, her inner thigh being raptured into his groin with such passion. I could feel the excitement. Beginning to feel guilty I wondered should I walk away and give them their privacy. Is anyone

watching me watch them in this passionate moment. I could not look away.

In the church…, I kept thinking, the Roman Catholic Church of worship! Passion discouraged if not shunned especially within the cathedral. They did not know I was there watching them. If anyone belonging to the church knew of this would they be forced to leave the church and never return? Would they be shunned to the body of the church and through eternity? Though I see love as a gift from God, and intimacy of this type, relished by the God I would want to know, they were making love in the church!

They had removed clothing sometime when I was in deep thought, and the passion had worked its way to me where I stood on the sidewalk. She embraced him tighter while he pulled her closer, then she lay back, allowing him to move in closer and deeper as she welcomed him into her.

They had absolutely, unconditionally made passionate love in the church, the Roman Catholic Church. The heart of legalistic religion. The influence of man’s means to survive. They were now my idols.