Room 203

203.jpegMarcie was trying hard to empty her mind of all its clutter so she could focus on the task at hand but there were far too many distractions. The carpet for one. She’d forgotten to pack her slippers and never wore socks so was forced to walk barefoot around the room. Hotels were notoriously nasty anyway, but budget hotels? Well, one could only imagine. She wondered how many florescent blobs of seamen would show up if she were to somehow access one of those ‘black lights’ forensic scientists use at crime scenes, then shuddered at the thought.

Thoughts of the semen covered carpet made Marcie think of the bed. She wouldn’t be able to sleep soundly tonight. If the floor was covered in that stuff then what chance did the poor bed have? She opened her bag and proceeded to examine her night clothes: long sleeved T-Shirt? Check. Jogging bottoms? Check. Bandana? Check. Hooded sweatshirt? Check. One pillowcase from home? Check. One double sheet from home? Check. The important thing, Marcie mentally reminded herself, was to ensure that not one ounce of skin or hair touched the hotel sheets. Her mind went back to a recent conversation she’d had with her cousin about the time he’d contracted ringworm from sleeping in a hotel when working as a flight attendant.

Another shudder.

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Forgive us our Trespasses…

LordsPrayer.jpeg‘Let us pray’.

With hands clasped and eyes closed I bow my head solemnly but the anger racing through me makes it impossible to communicate with God in a meaningful way.

Surely the most blasphemous deed is presuming to know the thoughts and wishes of God, yet these so-called preachers, these ‘messengers of God’ – of all religions, commit this sin every time they open their dirty putrid little mouths. Wars are started because of these people! Conflicts that wipe out entire generations and scar those lucky (or unlucky) enough to survive.

I love God with every fibre of my being so it hurts – I mean really hurts when these fraudsters claim to be speaking on behalf of God.

My boyfriend is nudging me and as I open my eyes I see that he’s pulling faces and trying to make me laugh. The site of him creates a warmth within me that is so powerful I want to cry. I don’t know if Tony will ever fully understand how I feel. He’s an atheist so the notion of me being offended by people manipulating and mis-interpreting the word of someone who, as far as Tony is concerned, doesn’t even exist, makes him laugh. Continue reading