Journal of a Cult Survivor.

[Almighty Bard]

So, this will be some stuff I have written, and will write for a short story. It shouldn't be too long. There should be more than one chapter by the end of it, and they will all be pretty short, as I do not like long, windy chapters. If you find what you read is something you like. let me know through a PM. If you have any concerns you can also let me know through a PM. Well, here we go, enjoy the ride.

[Almighty Bard]

Chapter One: The Whole Truth.

The leather backing of the booth I was sitting in squeaked. The source for my newest humanities piece was late, they were always late. With a heavy sigh I looked down at the digital watch on my wrist, "Half passed nine. Forty-five minutes late. Awesome." As I adjusted the watch I caught a glimpse of myself from a reflection on it. I shuddered a bit at the sight of my face. I had a rough five day beard growing in, as well as bags under my eyes big enough to be used by Paris Hilton. I looked like death warmed over. For a moment I fought with myself about going to the bathroom and trying to freshen up. Any thoughts of that were crushed by a cough. I looked up and cringed again. The young man before me looked no better than I did. For a moment before he sat down I sized him up. His skin was abnormally pale, and it looked like he had been deprived of sleep for a while. The bags under his eyes were a lot worse than mine.

As he sat down, the booth seat squeaked again, it was an annoying sound. His hands began to roll over one another in a nervous gesture. The young mans eyes darted back and forth for a moment, as if he was expecting someone to jump out and get him. "Are...are you Mr. Leonard?" The voice that came from the boys lips was something to be expected, meek and quiet. I looked at him for a moment and then slowly held out my hand to shake his. "Yes. I am Collin Leonard. You can just call my Collin. Ok?" The boy scooted backwards as far as he could in his seat, as if afraid to be touched. I smiled to him, softly, and just let my hand stay there. A minute went by before he finally grasped my head and let out a croak. "My name is Nicholas Macmillan."

I smiled to the boy and then reached into my pocket for my recorder and notebook. I pulled them both out and laid them on the table. "Ok Nick. You said you were willing to talk to me about what happened to you in the Cult of the Rising Phoenix. Very little is known about this cult, and I was hoping you'd be able to explain it all to me." The boy looked timidly down at his hands and then up to me. "Can...Can we order food first? I haven't eaten in a while." The look in the kids eyes struck one of my heart strings like a harp. I pursed my lips for a moment and then nodded, "Sure kid. What do you want?"

A light appeared in his eyes and he grabbed a menu. The diner we were in was a good place to grab a bite to eat. They served everything here, pizza, burgers, steak, sandwiches. And, as I watched the kid look over all of the options in the menu, I felt kind of bad. I never would have looked at the menu with such awe, but this kid; he looked at it like a Jesus freak did the bible. It was all over his face, love, want, salvation. This menu was everything the kid had ever wanted in life. I smiled, "Order whatever you want Nick. It's on me." The way the kid's face lit up, I did not want to think of what was going to happen to my poor wallet. Truth be told, this story was a long shot, and I was on my last dime. If this story did not pan out, I was going to not only be broke, but jobless as well.

I sighed outwardly and motioned to the waitress. As the young woman came over, I noticed her name tag read Cindy. She was cute in her own way, but not really my type. I smiled to her and motioned for the kid to order. He ended up ordering two bacon cheese burgers, a large plate of fries and a milkshake. I shook my head wanting to call the boy a name, but I refrained simply laughing a bit. I myself ordered the chicken salad sandwich, and a cup of coffee. We sat in silence as we waited for our food to arrive. I figured I would let the kid eat before we started in on the questions. This meal would eat up all of my cash, and hopefully by the end of the night, I would have enough information to get more for my publisher to pay me.

A half and hour passed and we ate, again in silence. I watched Nick devour his food with a vengeance. It almost made me feel bad for the kid, thinking of what he had gone through since he left the cult he grew up in. From what I have learned of the kid, for the passed two years he has been living in an underpass out near Oregon Highway 47 in Portland. The kid was homeless, and it was obviously not agreeing with him. I smiled to myself as I thought about myself at his age; no direction, no purpose, the world was a big scary place. For a moment I looked at the face of this young man, and saw too much age. He was only seventeen, he should be in high school, going out and drinking with his buddies. Instead, he was living in a cardboard mansion under a bridge.

I waited for another ten minutes and then reached to my recorder and pressed the buttons to begin it's purpose. "Ok Nick. I'm going to ask you some questions now about the cult. If you can, I would like you to give me as much detail about what you went through. What happened there. If, at any time, you feel you can't continue I'll try to ease us to a halt. Now, if you don't mind, we'll begin."

I paused for a moment, and waited for the kid to nod his consent. "My name is Collin Leonard, and I am here interviewing Nicholas Macmillan. We will be discussing the activities he has witnessed, and the events he went through while a part of the Cult of the Rising Phoenix. All accounts discussed here will be from his point of view, and should be noted as such."

I looked up and smiled to the boy, who seemed hesitant now to talk. I cocked an eyebrow at the kid and looked down at the recorder. I motioned to it, and then said, "Take your time Nick. We have all night." The young man nodded and then ran a hand through his greasy brown hair. I noticed his hands begin to shake, so I made a note of it. He cleared his throat, working up the courage to speak. It was obvious from the look on his face that this was something hard to talk about. After a moment he looked to me, "What do you want to know Mr. Leonard?"

I smiled and pressed my pen to my notepad, "The truth Nick. Just the truth."

[Almighty Bard]

Chapter Two: In the beginning

((Chapters will alternate points of view between the Reporter and the Kid. This chapter will be first person from the Kid's point of view.))

I exhaled deeply, and it rattled around in my chest. This reporter was seriously interested in the horrors I had seen through my short life. I could not really blame him though, most people wanted to know. With another large breathe I looked up and into his eyes, "The first thing I remember is a smell. A terrible smell."

I paused and thought back on everything, "It was the smell of burning flesh. To be honest it is a horrible smell. All the hair on a body, all that flesh just, it is terrible. The only thing I can compare to it for smelling like that is tires burning." I shivered for a moment before continuing with my story. "The next thing I can remember from my earliest years is the look of passion on the leaders face as I was christened. His name was Doctor Howezer. Later when it all fell apart we would find out he wasn't really a doctor. But, that is a long time from where we are now."

"The look in Doctor Howezer's eyes was something akin to what I think the religious fanatics on T.V. must have. He was so energetic, and enthusiastic, it was almost impossible not to be taken in by him. His basic doctrine was that through death, we find new life, and are reborn in a better place. What I thought of as a kid, was that after I died I would be happy and surrounded by nothing but light. Howezer however meant something very different. Again, that comes later."

I breathed in deeply as the memories of my past came to play in my head. For so long I had tried to erase them, but there they were, dancing in front of my eyes like a movie screen.

"My christening was awful, as it was for all of us. We were stripped naked in front of the congregation, and we were laid on our backs upon an altar. As we lay there, docotor Howezer would come to stand over us with his arms spread wide. He would begin to speak in some language none of us knew. He called it the Tongue of the Divine. As he finished, his second in command Earl Worthington, would press a branding iron to our genitals, searing our flesh, and marking us forever with the crest of a phoenix."

I watched as Collin shuddered at the thought of something so painful. He had no idea.

"We were all seven or eight when we went through this. A lot of the kids would never be able to have children again. Those that did, well we found out later that the ones who did were all raped several times by Howezer and Worthington. No one ever talked about it though. The girls went to Howezer. He liked them young, preferably right when they started their period. Worthington."

I paused for a moment to stop my hands from shaking again. "He liked the boys. He usually took them right after they were branded."

I looked up to the reporter again and gave my best sad smile. It was empty though, what was going through my mind right now was more rage at the man who had done things to all of us. How we had been used and treated like cattle. The shaking of my heads intensified. The reporter just nodded, and leaned in to switch off the recorder.

I just looked at him for a moment, as he looked at me, and then motioned his head towards the bathroom. I understood him, he felt that with how angry I was right now, I needed to cool off. He was right.
((Took forever to get back to this. But, here we go.))

[Almighty Bard]

((Took forever to get back to this. But, finally it is here. Chapter 2. xD))

[terradi]

Minor spelling correction: it should be 'half past nine' not 'half passed nine'.

For formatting, you should start a new paragraph each time a new character speaks. This is standard in writing for dialogues.

Right in the beginning you generate instant sympathy for the boy. He sounds like he's had a rough, rough time of it, whatever he's been through.

Quote:

I shook my head wanting to call the boy a name, but I refrained simply laughing a bit.

The cadence on this feels off. Perhaps nix the comma before but and stick it after refrained?

Quote:

With another large breathe I looked up and into his eyes,

breath.

Quote:

"The look in Doctor Howezer's eyes was something akin to what I think the religious fanatics on T.V. must have.

This seems like an odd comment for a kid who grew up in a cult and then became homeless to make. How does he know that religious fanatics are on TV if he hasn't seen one? If he has, why the 'must have' in there?

~

This isn't bad, but your chapters are awfully short. Are you planning to keep them about the same length or expand on them a bit?

Also, have you thought much on what sort of issues Nick might have as a result of all this? Even if he's had all the right therapists, I'd imagine he would have to have a few mental scars, probably PTSD.

I want to know why he's meeting with a stranger in a cafe and whether or not the situation scares him because he's vulnerable. I want to know what he's still scared of and if he has any flashbacks. Tell us, your audience, about the damage so we can understand he's going through.