outside of the church and heading for home.
Jacob put his jacket on, covering up his nakedness as best he could. Why only the jacket? The voice inside him seemed puzzled. Jacob allowed the confusion to last a while as he walked the few blocks to his house. A few more yards and he was outside the shed. Rays of moonlight glimmered off the dull-metal surface of the lock. He felt in his coat pocket producing the key. Oh, now I get it. The voice intoned. As he slid the key into the lock, Jacob paused. He saw a hazy figure standing beside him. Walter reached out placing his right hand over Jacob's.
"Let me help." The man's fingers were cold. As the lock opened, Jacob noticed the marks on Walter's wrist. "I guess I did something right after all." A wide smile slowly forming on his lips. He ran his fingers down Jacob's chin and kissed him. Jacob watched as Walter's beautiful, blue eyes glazed over. "Rachel, I'm coming home."
Walter faded, leaving only Jacob to deal with what was behind the door. With a deep breath, Jacob pulled on the rusted handle. A ray of moonlight caught the girl lying on the ground by the lawnmower. Her body appeared stiff. Jacob knew she wasn't breathing. He moved past the various yard tools to her crumpled form. An expression of terror still marked her features. Jacob placed one hand on her chest. The other he rested on her shoulder. He waited to feel a rise or fall from somewhere beneath his fingers. None came. A bluish, black bruise stood out on her arm. I killed her. Jacob thought, staring off into the darkness. Dad, I'm sorry.
He didn't notice the white fingers slide beneath his chin. Felt nothing until the air entering his mouth no longer made its way to his lungs. Jacob's eyes bulged as Mary Jane plunged her thumbs into his windpipe.
Mary Jane stood in front of the S. King United Methodist Church wondering how she got there. She noticed the words "or Hell: the Choice is Yours" in bold, black letters on the sign in front. Several of the letters were on the ground where someone had kicked them off. Who would do such a thing? The thought lingered as she took a few steps and opened the ornate doors. She smiled at the naked, black man as she passed. Mommy liked black men and now Mary Jane knew why. As she entered the overly warm interior of the church, she noticed the bingo cards on the tables. Bingo. She thought. I freakin' hate this game.
"Please, take a seat young lady." This came from an old woman sitting behind a plastic box full of numbered balls. "The next game is about to begin."
Thank you for enjoying my story. For more information about me and my other works, please search my full name Mark Alan Trimeloni.
Author’s Note: The way a nudist views the human body is different in most cases than what a clothed person does. Nudity is not sexual any more than clothing is. Sex is an act. Nudity is a state of being. Genitals are seen as a normal part of that body and my stories represent them as such. Made from the same flesh as your hand only in a different shape and used for a different purpose.
"I'd rather wear the clothing I was born in than something man-made."--Mark Alan Trimeloni
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