Glistening dew settled on the well-kept lawn between the parsonage and the little, old whitewashed church in disrepair.

Joy’s mother was off to the church women’s meeting at the local library. Her papa, Reverend Blake, was speaking with Laveta Winslow, their housekeeper as she cleaned the Blake’s home.

Laveta’s thirteen-year old daughter, Crissy, followed Joy to the church to play the organ, to play church and play preacher. Both little girls padded along in bare feet.

Six-year old Joy stood on a chair at the pulpit. She slammed a Bible on the podium and hollered, "God damned the people of sin. Send the sinners all to hell-fire and damnation. You all go to hell. All you whores and damn women, listen to your daddies. They are God’s Bosses. Amen!"

"Hallelujah!" Crissy said. "I’ll play the organ now. Sing with me, Joy."

"Yes, Jesus loves me. The Bible tells me so."

Reverend Blake entered the church and sat listening. His eyes lit on Crissy, her bulging belly and big blue eyes. He rested his glare on her firm youthful figure.

Crissy glimpsed the Reverend. The music stopped in a jumble of notes. Crissy cringed with fear and rose from the organ bench to leave.

In a flash, the Reverend moved to her, grasping her, and ran his chubby hand through her long golden hair. "Now, you sit down and play us more music while I speak to my daughter."

He placed Crissy’s skirt across the bench and sat on it to secure her there.

The Reverend jerked his belt from his breeches, pulled Joy’s panties down. He slung her across his knee give her another lickin’. Joy wailed.

Crissy sat frozen to the organ bench; her eyes on the back door, she recalled the Reverends words, "You’ll go to hell if you don’t obey God’s servant. Your pastor is God’s servant." Tears rolled down Crissy’s cheeks as she played the organ.

Rubbing her butt, Joy asked, " Papa, where does God live?"

"In the church, dummy."

"Where? I don’t see him."

"I’ll show you. Come here. I’ll teach you to mock me."

"The Reverend took Joy with one hand and Crissy with the other and walked Joy to the church closet, shoved her into the dark room.

"God’s in here. Find him."

Joy’s papa grabbed his red-devil’s mask with wicked horns from a hook and placed it over his face. He closed the door on Joy and bolted it.

"It’s dark in here! Let me out!" Joy banged on the door and squalled.

The Reverend spoke through the crack in the door and shouted, "Stop your bellowing and find God. He’s in there. He’ll be watching you."

Joy’s behind stung. She couldn’t sit down and she knew she had to be quiet. Her eyes began to adjust to the dark. She found a pull chain dropped from the ceiling. A dim light overhead came on. She looked around in the dank and dusty closet searching for God. There were shelves of books, some old hymnals and papers. Some old dusty coats hung haphazard on wire hangers. A glass globe sat on the dusty old desk. Joy picked it up and shook it. As she held it toward the light an eye appeared in the snow. In sheer fear, she dropped the globe, "God’s eye!" she whimpered. "I want my mama!"

Joy peeked out the crack of the door and her papa. He sat on the altar bench with Crissy. He spread his chubby fingers through her hair. He took her face in his hands and French kissed her through his mask.

Crissy struggled and cried

Papa laid Crissy down on the altar.

She cried, "Get off me. My mama says I’m going to have a baby."

"Oh yeah. Who knocked you up? That boy Chase?"

"No. Chase is younger than me. He doesn’t even like me." She cried. "I’m gonna tell mama on you. You’re hurting me."

"You shouldn’t be getting yourself pregnant. You are God’s servant and he told me to love you."

"You got me pregnant," Crissy sobbed. "I want my mama."

He held his hand over her mouth. "Be quiet. We’ll go get ice cream. Get your panties back on."

He held onto Crissy’s hand, pulled her from the altar, took off his mask and yelled at Joy.

"You stay quiet in there, young lady. God is punishing you. I’ll be back in a little bit." He squeezed Crissy’s arm. "Come on honey, we’ll go for ice cream."

Joy peeked out the crack in the door and watched them pass the church windows.

They left through the front door and walked around the side of the church by the vine-covered fence, to the back of the church. They squeezed through a wobbly, squeaking gate.

Nine-year old, Chase Conley came up beside the church in back of the parsonage to play with Crissy and see the Reverend’s colorful, prized bantam chickens. He watched Reverend Blake walk with Crissy behind the church into the cemetery.

Soon, flush-faced and panting, the Reverend returned from the cemetery by the church and yelled at Chase. "Get your butt out of here. Go home."

In fear, Chase ran and disappeared down the alleyway.

Joy waited in the dark for what seemed an eternity. She could hear Laveta Winslow calling for Crissy, and calling for Joy. Then at last, Joy’s papa showed up.

"Okay girl. You can come out of the closet now. Don’t you dare tell anyone where you’ve been, or God will leave you in his closet until the flesh rots off your bones. Then he’ll hang a rope around your neck and bury you in the cemetery."

"I won’t tell, Papa."

Her lips quivered as they walked from the church. Joy’s bottom sore where blood stuck to her panties irritated her behind. It felt like a piece of raw hamburger meat.

"Laveta, I found my daughter." Reverend Blake called to her. "I believe Crissy went off with some friends."

~ * ~

It was two days or maybe more, Joy couldn’t remember, when she heard the sheriff and the adults talking about finding Crissy’s body dangling, cold and limp from a Mimosa tree limb at the back end of the cemetery.

"Stark naked," the sheriff said. "Had a rope tied around her neck, eyes bulging and her tongue lolled out, "dead as a doornail."