Alive by Victoria Cox
Frances W. Kerr Award for Excellence in Nonfiction
Third place
I choose life because of the small moments that make me feel
Alive.
There are moments that make me feel alive, and there are moments that are the reason for which I am
Alive.
They come seldom and they unfold strong, they last merely a few seconds, they take the breath straight from your lungs, and that…
that is why I wake up every morning.
*
Three days, seventy two hours, 4,320 minutes, 259,200 seconds. That’s how long I was absolutely and utterly alone.
The sky, a still and serene baby blue, washed over my screaming brain the moment I arrived. Sitting down, a plot of open ground surrounded me. I let the sky wash over me that day. I tried to pretend I wasn't scared. “Burly mountain woman”, I kept telling myself. “Burly mountain woman”, “burly mountain woman”,
“burly mountain woman”,
“burly mountain woman”…
I’d like to think I'm a burly mountain woman.
*
I suppose it was in some moment between the 24th and 38th hour that I completely lost my mind.
I looked in front of me at the open field that lay just beyond my plot of land; all that was separating us was a mere row of bush and brush at the bottom of a small hill. My legs, energized from the rest and recovery from the past day, sprung to life as I walked down that hill toward the field.
I distinctly remember violet. Flowers, weeds, I can’t be sure. But I remember that violet as vibrant as the dusk of a falling rainbow. The violet lay to rest amongst the golden brown and emerald green of the field. The blades of long grass all different, none sizing the same. Hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of feet lay before me. Color, open air,
freedom,
I reached for the cropped hemline of my T-shirt: torn at the edges, sketches covering it. The sketches depicted the mountainsides, the waterfalls where we collected our water, the dog who lay to rest beside me each afternoon, the faces that surrounded me… I pulled it over my head. I looked at the artwork I had created before I tossed it on the ground. Like Eve, my eyes reopened as I became so very aware of my bareness despite no chance of human contact until at least the next sunrise. My pants soon joined the pile with the rest of what had clothed my body.
*
I cleansed myself that day for the first time in months. The water running from the leather container decorated at it’s seams with worn rope competed with the stillness it brought to my mind and my body. I held the bottom with one hand as I held it’s spout with the other. I started slow but hastened my pace as drop by drop and then all at once, the water crashed over me. The first drop of water that landed atop my head, an icicle freezing down my body, my spine petrified by it’s shock. The water wasn’t necessarily cold…but yet it froze me as my body under the sun caused it to engulf me in shivers. I continued it’s pour as slowly and steadily my entire body was covered in water. The hot sun beat against my bare back and water dripped from every curve of my body. I wiped my eyes dry and took a deep breath.
So there I was, standing amongst the dirt and the dust. I looked, that day, to the field in front of me in that short beautiful moment, the breath barely escaping my awe struck lungs.
And my God, I was fucking Alive.
The God Complex by Victoria Cox
Frances W. Kerr Award for Excellence in Fiction
Third Place
I was eight and a half months old when I found god.
***
Oh my god I am heartily sorry for having offended thee. And I detest all my sins, not only for the loss of heaven or the sake of hell, but most of all because they offend thee, my god, who art all good and deserving of all my love.
I firmly resolve, with the help of thy grace, to sin no more, and to avoid near occasion of sin.
Kneel before your savior.
I rested my knee on the withered grass, bowing my head. My toe, the nail much too long, poked through my torn up shoe which I received 2,735 days ago for one of my saving anniversaries. The grass, now browned and dry with the cold weather rolling in, poked up around the silhouette of the tattered heel.
Behold, O kind and most sweet lord, I cast myself upon my knees in your sight, and with the most fervent desire of my soul I pray and beseech you that you would impress upon my heart lively sentiments of Faith, Hope and Charity, true repentance for my sins and a firm purpose of amendment, while with deep affection and grief of soul I ponder within myself and mentally contemplate your five most precious wounds, having before my eyes that which David spoke in prophecy of you,
O good lord:
they have pierced my hands and feet,
they have numbered all my bones.
All rise.
I look up to the congregation, mostly young. The space around me is constantly filled with the sounds of screaming children, their hearts utterly broken. Surrounded by people, but constantly alone. But god mends all, or so he preaches.
Take O lord, and receive my entire liberty, my memory, my understanding and my whole will. All that I am and all that I possess you have given me: I surrender it all to you to be disposed of according to your will. Give me only your love and your grace;
with these I will be rich enough,
and will desire nothing more.
Your morning prayer is complete. Cleanse yourselves. Monday morning saving will commence at first horn.
With that, god nodded his head to us, with a soft smile, his eyes tired and swollen, his wrinkled skin hanging from his brittle bones.
I followed Shay back to our shelter on the East end of the reservation. We’ve lived together for 1,465 days. I changed roommates after Jen got caught by the sinner patrol during a saving. Their blue and white vehicles screamed down the highway, while she screamed in the back.
YOU PROMISED.
I opened my closet, messier than normal. This week I had fallen particularly tired. I laid out my saving uniform.
Shay, boil some water and stick it in the closet would you? Make sure you close the door. My uniform is wrinkled, god told me it was my last strike last time.
My black pants, a black turtleneck. A fitted ski mask. My eye holes were much too small, but god demanded I cut them no further.
Your pupils. That’s all they should remember.
Shay helped me steam my clothes. We had little luxury in our lives, for our fulfillment was meant to lay in our love of god alone. So, we would steam water in a bowl, and sit it in a small, tight closet until the room steamed, and lay our clothes out until the wrinkles somewhat faded. We got dressed down to our pupils, pulling up our gloves, tying our shoes so not even a gust of wind could let anything through them.
The saving will commence in 15 minutes. In 14 minutes, the morning horn will sound. Be at your stations, or risk penance.
Nobody wanted penance. Hell hath no fury.
We made our beds, a task that kept some routine and sanity about our days. The walk from East reservation to center reservation was approximately 11 and a half minutes. Perfect. We began our stroll, joking in hushed tones about god’s flabby arms in morning prayer. These moments have a funny way of reminding me that I am human.
We arrived at center reservation with 30 seconds to spare, as god was screaming at people for their eye holes being too large.
IF YOU CAN’T MANAGE CUTTING A MASK, HOW CAN YOU EXPECT TO ADVANCE ON THE RESERVATION.
…god always got antsy before the saving.
We took vans to a new city each month. Sometimes fifteen minutes away, sometimes six hours away. He never told us how far we were going, we lay our trust in god’s hands.
This particular Monday seemed like the longest drive we had taken in a while. I sat beside Shay and Robin. Shay’s long brown hair wrapped up in a tight braid that was shoved underneath her ski mask. Her blue eyes were piercing, which is why god always had her do the distraction. She was our most valuable asset. If one’s beauty can be seen through their pupils alone, their power of influence is absolutely limitless. Robin’s eyes were a deep, deep brown, almost black. Terrifyingly awesome. We pulled up to the first house just in time for peak sun. How this operation carried on for so many decades was beyond me, but god was clever. All knowing and all powerful. We took shifts: three kept watch, one by the van, one by the front door, and one by the back door, while seven entered the house. Two were in charge of distraction while the other five staked out the sinners. The lord always did his research before the saving. We targeted households that held a baby of fifteen months or less. Any older, and they’d be too far molded in the vision of the sinners for saving. I was staking today. That was usually my job. I’m far more aggressive than Shay and Robin. Michael, Julie and I were the most aggressive of the elder members, so god valued us, that’s why we ranked so high amongst the elders. The saving was usually pretty routine. We worked in numbers…
…the people fear us.
Julie ran in first.
GET ON THE FUCKING GROUND.
Michael and I took each parent. Me the father, him the mother. We work opposite sexes, it usually yields better results.
Be strong, my children. They cry, they scream, but they know not what they do, what they need. We must save them. You cannot sin if it is for the saving of the sinners themselves.
The lord’s words ring in my ears like bells. I always need to remind myself why I obey him.
I grab the back of the father's hair. The trick is to dig in your nails while you grab.
So you must be daddy.
I kneeled down to level with his face, now sweating and red.
Where’s the baby?
He shot a nervous and invigorated glance to his wife.
Over my dead body.
He shook as tears streamed down his boiling face. The only four words his paternal petrification could utter. A shiver went down my spine. Most parents shut down, I wasn’t used to this.
…
I FOUND HER!
I looked over at Julie, holding the young infant.
Wipe your tears, my child. We must save the sinners. Only when they join the reservation, will they be one of us. We can mold their minds. The elder sinners are too far molded as sinners. You must stay strong my child. My will is word. Why, I remember the day you were saved, you were a crier on the way back to reservation. And look at you now. In the good graces of your lord. Eternally saved.
I immediately flashback to my fifteenth saving. I was new to the reservation, and I had fallen into a depression. My heart was heavy; I hadn't eaten in days. My stomach wrenched in pain. I couldn't sleep; their crying faces haunted my dreams. So, during evening prayers one night, I approached god. And he calmed me down, with his soft spoken words. I slowly started eating again, I slept from time to time.
My stomach ache never went away.
Look at her sweet little face! Elizabeth come hold her. She isn’t even a crier! Oh god’s gonna be so impressed.
Snap. Back to reality.
Uhh yeah! Let me see her.
I loosened my grasp on the father, now convulsing with rage.
LET HER GO. TAKE ME INSTEAD. PLEASE.
Shut the FUCK UP .
Michael snapped at the father, rushing over to knock him out. He doesn't like people who don't obey god’s word.
MICHAEL chill out. He’s just scared.
I couldn't believe those words had come out of my mouth. I was supposed to be the aggressive one. Heartless. Cold.
Michael shot a death stare at me, before he shook it off and turned around.
Julie handed me the baby, who I tucked in the nook of my arm, my other arm supporting her little head. She twinkled up at me. The deepest of blues I had ever seen in my life flowed through her eyes, specks of gray scattered about her pupils.
“Elizabeth?”
I looked up. The whole room was just staring at me — I must have been holding the baby for longer than I thought.
“Right then.” I nodded to Michael, who still had a grimace on his face. I rolled my eyes. He was always on the more dramatic side. I guess god can’t make us that uniform.
Leaving the home was usually when the risk was heightened. The screams would be more audible when we opened the door to file everyone out. The screams of the parents. The screams of the baby. This is the part we rehearsed the most. At least once a week, god would have us prepare for the run to the van. He made sure we kept physically fit — limiting our sugar intake, running laps around the reservation, cardio exercise, etc.
“Liz you good to carry the baby out this time?”
I never volunteered to be the primary saver: their face was the one who would haunt the nightmares of the parents for the rest of their childless lives. I shook my head and looked over to Shay. Her face and her gentle smile of validation had a way of calming down my pounding heart.
“I’ve got her.”
Shay came up to me. Years and years of sleeping just feet away from her, and seeing her every single day, yet still every time her arm brushed my arm, her hand brushed my hand, her leg touched my leg, my stomach doubled over with butterflies. I felt young again; I felt so alive. She grabbed the baby from my arms. A piece of me stung as she removed the little one. I closed my eyes, and reopened them in the midst of chaos. The parents were still tied to their respective chairs with no hope of loosening the ropes. The father was more feisty than we are used to, while the mother gave us a similar response to past parents: absolute misery and sobbing.
YOU CAN’T DO THIS. WHY US? WHY HER?
The father’s screams rang in my head as we filed out and jumped into the van. The door hadn't even shut before the screech of a U-turn. The darkened windows barely allowed us to see outside. I think this was on purpose. Shay was seated right next to me. She saw the tears in my eyes.
You never get like this. What’s up?
I don’t know. This one felt different. I want her to have a better life than us.
Her hand reached up to wipe the tears away from my face as she stared into my eyes, and suddenly we were the only two people in that van. Lizzy…
We were interrupted by screams. SHIT, HOLD ON!
The last thing I remember was Shay’s eyes widening.
***
HEY HER EYES ARE OPENING! FATHER STEVEN COME QUICK!
I’m seated on the end of a long wooden bench. In front of me, a shelf holding the same book side by side by side by side…
We have some extra food from the luncheon for you, are you hungry?
Despite every bone in my body petrified to stillness, I was able to nod my head.
A young looking man, with light brown eyes and neatly combed brown hair, glasses sitting halfway up the arch of his nose. He had a kind face. Not like god. There was purity in his eyes.
He handed me a plate with a fork, and a large glass of water. I don't think I’ve ever eaten that quickly, but the fear certainly made it hard to digest any food.
So where are you from…
Elizabeth. My name is Elizabeth.
Where are you from, Elizabeth? Do you remember what happened to you?
I grew completely silent. I must have looked like a deer in headlights. I don't even know this man, never mind where on Earth I am right now. All I could think about was where Shay was.
Elizabeth, you were involved in a car crash. Three were killed in your van…
My heart immediately started pounding. I grew dizzier every second. Shay…where was Shay…please don't let it be Shay…
One of our priests were walking by and found you flung twenty feet from the car. You were all in black ski masks, so honestly we can only assume the worst. But you kept muttering, “I am sorry god. I am sorry god.” The priest took pity on you. He carried you back to our church.
I barely let him finish before I croaked out the question I really wanted answered.
Did he happen to bring anyone else back?
The man looked back at another man standing a few rows behind. He had a kind face as well. The man nodded.
I believe we recovered one more.
A wave rushed through my body. A mix of relief and anticipation.
He is in the rectory in the back of the church.
Pain. Absolute loss.
Would you like to see him?
I nodded.
The man, who others referred to as “Father Steven”, led me back behind all the long benches to a small room. Seated in a chair, his face barely recognizable from the bruising and blood, sat Michael. An unrecognizable anger washed over me.
I ran over to him and grabbed him by shoulders. Tears I could not hold back started pouring down my face.
Michael, where’s..
I have no idea where Shay is.
He looked into my eyes. A sadness welled up in his pupils, something I had never seen in Michael before.
I’m sorry. I don't know if she was killed. She’s a fighter though.
And god?
He took a deep breath, and through a cracked voice, muttered as he looked away from me.
Dead.
Father Steven led me to the front of the large auditorium looking area, with a stage of sorts in the front, a table seated in the middle of the stage. I wonder what this place is. I’ve never seen anything like it.
Father Steven, as the others called him, led me to the door of a large room, with at least a dozen bunk beds.
Take your pick. If you need anything at all, there’s a telephone in the rectory, that little room just outside there. I wrote my phone number on a small slip of paper.
Wait, what? A tele-what?
Father Steven looked around. His eyebrows are burrowed.
Did you hit your head? Oh…I’m sorry I don't mean to be rude, it’s just…I just…are you telling me you don't know what a telephone is?
I shook my head.
He swallowed hard.
I’ll be back at eight in the morning. Try to get some rest.
***
Father Steven woke me up that morning, and I never sleep in. Ever since I could remember I had always woken up with the sun. But not this morning. I couldn't seem to force myself to get out of bed. While the room I was in had a certain air of peace, all I could wonder was where Shay was. Whether she made it.
After eating breakfast, Father Steven sat me down.
I have something to show you.
I followed him to a small room.
Go in there and have a seat. Don't be worried, I’m right next door.
Usually, I would have never done that. I hate being in enclosed spaces. Living on the reservation made me a creature of habit, and all I had ever known were open spaces. The only time I ever found myself in enclosed spaces was during savings. But I was overwhelmed with trust. For the first time in my life, I had no worries.
Elizabeth?
I jumped. The voice boomed.
It’s me, Father Steven. I’m right through this screen here.
I heard a tapping coming from the screen to my right. I peered closer, and could barely make out his silhouette.
Elizabeth, this is called a confessional. This is a place where you can say anything, tell me anything, and I cannot tell another soul. I think you could use this space to your advantage. Are you willing to be vulnerable with me?
I nodded my head, confused, deep in thought.
Elizabeth?
Oh sorry. Yes, I’m here.
There was a long silence. I felt clothed in strength, and my heart was heavy. If he really couldn't get me in trouble, what was the harm?
Me and Father Steven sat in that confessional for three hours. I started from the beginning.
I told him about how a man, who called himself god, and a group of his followers kidnapped me from my home when I was a baby. They brought me back to a section, deep in the wilderness, that they called their reservation. And for the rest of my life, that is where I lived, doing as he said and as he preached. It wasn't until my thirtieth year that I realized I needed to get out of there. It was all I had ever known, but I knew deep down it was wrong.
I told him about the savings, about how in order to gain new followers who would comply with the cult, we needed to kidnap them when they were babies. I told him about my stomach aches, about the guilt which fed on my insides. I told him about how much I hated myself for not leaving earlier. I told him about Shay. How I think I might have been in love with her. How I missed her so much my body ached. How she made me feel like I could escape. How she was the reason I had the strength to escape make it through every long, horrible day on that reservation.
And then I thanked him. For what felt like it went on for ages, I cried and I thanked him.
I don’t understand why you would possibly save me. I’ve spent my life hurting people. This sanctuary you have here…I don’t belong here. I don’t deserve this. I…
Elizabeth, listen to me. God is a forgiver. What happened to you is not your fault.
I heard the door on his side of the screen open. Soon after, he opened mine. Gently grasping my hand, he helped me stand up, and embraced me. For the first time in what felt like ages since Shay had wiped my tears in the van that tragic day, I felt a sense of safety and comfort. I began to cry.
But Father Steven, god is dead.
The god you know is dead. The God I know is very much alive.
***
Good morning Father Steven! Need any help today?
Good morning Elizabeth! Yes! We have an additional mass being offered this afternoon for the Robbin’s grandmother. Will you be sure to print out additional copies of the bulletin?
I’m on it!
Oh, and Elizabeth, happy one month anniversary of your baptism.
I beamed with pride. While a piece of my heart still felt like it had been missing all this time, I had found comfort in God and his church. In the savior from Father Steven. Even Michael, who worked alongside me now, had supported me, and me him, through our recovery from the trauma we had experienced for so many decades. A tear sprang to my eye as I looked back in my mind on how far I had come since living on the reservation.
It’s all thanks to you, Father Steven. You gave me the first home I have ever known.
He flashed me a wide smile and a nod. He looked beside him, as I began to notice that all the priests had entered the room.
Elizabeth, we know this journey has not been easy for you. To find forgiveness through God for yourself, for your former cult leader…you’ve done so well adjusting to life on the outside. We wanted to do something special for your one month anniversary of your baptism. It’s taken us a full month to figure out how to make this happen, hoping it was even possible…
I wondered what gift he was going to give me. Maybe that new parka I had been wanting for so long. I was picking at my nails, half paying attention, thinking of how nice that furry parka would feel for my strolls to the supermarket.
Suddenly, a shriek echoed behind me.
LIZZY!
My knees started giving way. I felt like I was going to pass out. I dropped to the ground and began sobbing in absolute hysterics. I would recognize that voice anywhere. I managed to spin around on the floor.
My eyes met hers in what felt like it must have been a dream. She sprinted over and joined me on the floor in an embrace that made it feel like all 43 years of pain and suffering had just melted away.
I could barely utter words through my hysterics.
Shay oh my gosh it’s you. It’s really you.
I took her face in my hands.
It’s really you.
I love you.
I love you so much. I love you I love you I love you.
She kissed my forehead and embraced me again.
I was forty three years old when I found God.