Recovery Board
: RfM
Recovery from Mormonism (RfM) discussion forum.
By Adam C. White
Chapter 1
Saturday, March 30th, 1985
Holding back tears that threatened to dive down his face, Simon Stone sat on a two seat sofa in the most luxurious part of a Mormon temple. Head bowed to hide his emotions from Brother Costner, the man sitting beside him as an escort, Simon reflected upon the bizarre ceremony they just went through - the endowment. In it participants are washed and anointed, put on special clothing, make covenants, and are given the gestures and keywords that will enable them to one day pass the angels guarding heaven. Then they can enter a lavishly adorned area that represents heaven itself - the celestial room - where God’s divine presence can be felt.
Thinking about how repulsive that claim was now that he was there was too much to handle, and Simon shoved the thought away lest the tears fall. Nineteen years old and a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints since he was twelve, this was one of the final steps he must take to become a full time missionary. Soon he was supposed to attend the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah, then preach the gospel in Boise, Idaho and the surrounding area for two years. But those plans were in limbo now.
“Do you have any questions?” Brother Costner asked in a hushed tone. The sudden inquiry stopped the train of thoughts racing through Simon’s head, and for a moment there was quiet. It didn’t last. A list of questions came to mind. He tried sifting through them for an appropriate response, but they came at him too fast, like a mob of reporters shouting over one another to get the scoop:
Why are all these handshakes and passwords necessary to enter heaven? If you live a good life does it really matter what knuckle you place your thumb on and what that’s called?
What’s the point of having everyone stand in a circle and chant ‘pay lay ale’ while the women veil their faces?
Why must you swear you’d rather have your throat, chest, and bowels slashed open than reveal what took place here today? Is the church threatening its members into silence?
Don’t you think the time spent watching a video with so much screen time for Satan would be better spent volunteering at an orphanage or a nursing home?
How much does it cost to build these temples? Wouldn’t that money be better spent feeding the poor?
Simon looked at Brother Costner’s face, which shared none of his concerns. Brother Costner, or William to those outside the church, had picked up Simon and two missionaries granted a rare break from their work, and drove them all here. When Simon’s eyes met his, dark brown and brimming with tranquility, he couldn’t help but feel pity, and asked the least explosive question he could muster. “Am I allowed to write my initials on the garment tags?”
Underwear and undershirts with symbolic markings sewn on them, garments are worn at all times from the endowment forward as a reminder of covenants made in the temple. William’s brow furrowed, then he began to speak. Though his lips moved and sound came out Simon didn’t comprehend a single word of it, staring a thousand yards past him.
He didn’t notice when the missionaries sat on the sofa across from him, or when a few members from his ward entered the room. He didn’t want to see or be seen by them. To look up and exchange smiles would be condoning this religious charade, which supplanted a spiritual experience with creepy live action role playing. They all looked ridiculous in these outfits, with robes and slippers, fig leaf patterned aprons and oversized baker hats that looked more appropriate for Halloween than heaven.
Simon pictured himself dressed like this at the pearly gates, giving the angels the first keyword he received today and them howling with laughter before turning him away. The image gave him a strange feeling of déjà vu. At first he thought he was mistaken, that nothing about this scenario could seem familiar. Then tears welled up again as he remembered.
Shortly before joining the church Simon went through a class clown phase, where his only goal in life was to make people laugh. One day he and some friends somehow got onto bashing each other’s names. If yours was a diminutive form or even had one, like Mike or Michael, you were cast out from the group. In the end he was one of the only kids left. It was the dumbest joke in the world, which made it even funnier, but life would get the last laugh on Simon.
This morning at the beginning of the ceremony the first keyword he received was a new name. First he stood in a cubicle, completely naked save a white poncho that was open on both sides. The officiator, an elderly man with beige teeth and sour breath, dipped his fingers in oil and touched various parts of Simon’s body to anoint him as a king and priest unto God. It was uncomfortable, especially when the man grazed his trembling fingertips on the side of Simon’s pelvic region to anoint the loins, which Simon almost backed away from. Then the old man helped Simon put on his garments and gave him the new name - Elijah.
Seeing that group of kids again and this time not making the cut in their silly name game isn’t what bothered Simon. It was seeing the one in front of them dying with laughter. He had pale skin, smooth blonde hair, and a smile that hid the sadness in his eyes well. This little one didn’t know what impact being fatherless would have on his life, and how that would drive him to seek his Heavenly Father with devotion unmatched among his peers.
Through a glittering veil of tears Simon saw himself, before taking the path that would lead him to this godforsaken room. He wanted to go back through time and warn that boy of what was to come, but he couldn’t. Even though Simon was screaming on the inside there was nothing he could do except remain seated, physically drained and spiritually raped.
About fifteen minutes had passed since their group came into the celestial room, and members of the ward signaled to each other that it was time to leave. William stood up and motioned for Simon to follow. He did, staying one step behind William like a frightened puppy with its mother, eyes pointing down to the plush carpet the whole way. Before exiting he lifted his head and looked back.
The chandelier took center stage, a thousand crystal raindrops forming one giant cone, hovering above a marble table. Tall white walls were divided by frosted glass windows, which glowed from the morning light. Every piece of furniture had a replica on the other side of the room including two large mirrors which faced each other, creating a recursive image that stretched to infinity. To the Mormons that was a metaphor for eternity. To Simon it was just an illusion.
After changing back into their suits, Simon, William, and the missionaries were almost to the car when Brother Forrester caught up to them. “A group of us were going through again if you wanted to come along,” he said. The endowment is first done for yourself, then every time after that as proxy for those who have died without receiving it.
The pitch was made to William, who turned to Simon and asked if he wanted to. Simon couldn’t believe his ears, but pretended to consider the offer before answering, “I’m so hungry, I really need to get something to eat.” While many members were content with skipping breakfast and calling that a fast, he was on his 25th hour without food or water. William was probably fasting too as he didn’t argue with that logic, but flashed a grateful smile for the offer. Back to the temple Brother Forrester went.
They got into the car and onto the interstate. It was silent except for the road rumbling beneath them until William asked, “Well where do you guys wanna eat?” After deciding on a Taco Bell off the next exit they parked and went in.
The missionaries, Elder Butler and Elder Alley, were almost identical in appearance - crew cuts, clean shaven, white and lanky. One might struggle to describe a difference between them. For Elder Butler it was his long nose. For Elder Alley his suave facial features suggested he could be the lead singer in a boy band. He was also friendlier, asking Simon as they stood waiting in line, “So are you nervous about leaving for your mission soon?”
That was the last thing Simon wanted to think about. Given the faith shaking experience he just went through he supposed he should be nervous, but for now he just felt numb in its aftermath. “No, not really” he said, forcing the corners of his mouth upward.
William was kind enough to foot the bill for all four of them. Sitting across from each other at two wobbly tables placed together, they waited for their orders. That moment was almost quieter than in the temple.
Simon expected one of them to say something, anything, about the endowment. Not apologize or reenact it. Not even crack a joke to ease the tension. Just acknowledge that it happened. Instead, nothing. Even though the others were veterans at this thing, the mood among them was like someone had died. Whether they knew it or not, they were right. Elijah was dead.
A woman behind the register called out their order number, and Elder Alley brought the tray to them. In between bites the missionaries asked William about his job and noted the changing weather. Eating tacos and making small talk. Masquerading as normal people in sheep’s clothing, but wearing garments underneath, reminding them not to violate the covenants they made or else judgment awaits.
Part of Simon wanted to forget about what happened and play along like it was no big deal. Then a still small voice seemed to whisper to him, “Remember, remember!” It felt like the words pierced his soul. After that he couldn’t forget.
Once the shock wore off the only thing Simon Stone felt was anger. He swore in his wrath that he would never go back to the temple. Little did he know he would go back - one year later - for vengeance.
Chapter 1
Saturday, March 30th, 1985
Holding back tears that threatened to dive down his face, Simon Stone sat on a two seat sofa in the most luxurious part of a Mormon temple. Head bowed to hide his emotions from Brother Costner, the man sitting beside him as an escort, Simon reflected upon the bizarre ceremony they just went through - the endowment. In it participants are washed and anointed, put on special clothing, make covenants, and are given the gestures and keywords that will enable them to one day pass the angels guarding heaven. Then they can enter a lavishly adorned area that represents heaven itself - the celestial room - where God’s divine presence can be felt.
Thinking about how repulsive that claim was now that he was there was too much to handle, and Simon shoved the thought away lest the tears fall. Nineteen years old and a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints since he was twelve, this was one of the final steps he must take to become a full time missionary. Soon he was supposed to attend the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah, then preach the gospel in Boise, Idaho and the surrounding area for two years. But those plans were in limbo now.
“Do you have any questions?” Brother Costner asked in a hushed tone. The sudden inquiry stopped the train of thoughts racing through Simon’s head, and for a moment there was quiet. It didn’t last. A list of questions came to mind. He tried sifting through them for an appropriate response, but they came at him too fast, like a mob of reporters shouting over one another to get the scoop:
Why are all these handshakes and passwords necessary to enter heaven? If you live a good life does it really matter what knuckle you place your thumb on and what that’s called?
What’s the point of having everyone stand in a circle and chant ‘pay lay ale’ while the women veil their faces?
Why must you swear you’d rather have your throat, chest, and bowels slashed open than reveal what took place here today? Is the church threatening its members into silence?
Don’t you think the time spent watching a video with so much screen time for Satan would be better spent volunteering at an orphanage or a nursing home?
How much does it cost to build these temples? Wouldn’t that money be better spent feeding the poor?
Simon looked at Brother Costner’s face, which shared none of his concerns. Brother Costner, or William to those outside the church, had picked up Simon and two missionaries granted a rare break from their work, and drove them all here. When Simon’s eyes met his, dark brown and brimming with tranquility, he couldn’t help but feel pity, and asked the least explosive question he could muster. “Am I allowed to write my initials on the garment tags?”
Underwear and undershirts with symbolic markings sewn on them, garments are worn at all times from the endowment forward as a reminder of covenants made in the temple. William’s brow furrowed, then he began to speak. Though his lips moved and sound came out Simon didn’t comprehend a single word of it, staring a thousand yards past him.
He didn’t notice when the missionaries sat on the sofa across from him, or when a few members from his ward entered the room. He didn’t want to see or be seen by them. To look up and exchange smiles would be condoning this religious charade, which supplanted a spiritual experience with creepy live action role playing. They all looked ridiculous in these outfits, with robes and slippers, fig leaf patterned aprons and oversized baker hats that looked more appropriate for Halloween than heaven.
Simon pictured himself dressed like this at the pearly gates, giving the angels the first keyword he received today and them howling with laughter before turning him away. The image gave him a strange feeling of déjà vu. At first he thought he was mistaken, that nothing about this scenario could seem familiar. Then tears welled up again as he remembered.
Shortly before joining the church Simon went through a class clown phase, where his only goal in life was to make people laugh. One day he and some friends somehow got onto bashing each other’s names. If yours was a diminutive form or even had one, like Mike or Michael, you were cast out from the group. In the end he was one of the only kids left. It was the dumbest joke in the world, which made it even funnier, but life would get the last laugh on Simon.
This morning at the beginning of the ceremony the first keyword he received was a new name. First he stood in a cubicle, completely naked save a white poncho that was open on both sides. The officiator, an elderly man with beige teeth and sour breath, dipped his fingers in oil and touched various parts of Simon’s body to anoint him as a king and priest unto God. It was uncomfortable, especially when the man grazed his trembling fingertips on the side of Simon’s pelvic region to anoint the loins, which Simon almost backed away from. Then the old man helped Simon put on his garments and gave him the new name - Elijah.
Seeing that group of kids again and this time not making the cut in their silly name game isn’t what bothered Simon. It was seeing the one in front of them dying with laughter. He had pale skin, smooth blonde hair, and a smile that hid the sadness in his eyes well. This little one didn’t know what impact being fatherless would have on his life, and how that would drive him to seek his Heavenly Father with devotion unmatched among his peers.
Through a glittering veil of tears Simon saw himself, before taking the path that would lead him to this godforsaken room. He wanted to go back through time and warn that boy of what was to come, but he couldn’t. Even though Simon was screaming on the inside there was nothing he could do except remain seated, physically drained and spiritually raped.
About fifteen minutes had passed since their group came into the celestial room, and members of the ward signaled to each other that it was time to leave. William stood up and motioned for Simon to follow. He did, staying one step behind William like a frightened puppy with its mother, eyes pointing down to the plush carpet the whole way. Before exiting he lifted his head and looked back.
The chandelier took center stage, a thousand crystal raindrops forming one giant cone, hovering above a marble table. Tall white walls were divided by frosted glass windows, which glowed from the morning light. Every piece of furniture had a replica on the other side of the room including two large mirrors which faced each other, creating a recursive image that stretched to infinity. To the Mormons that was a metaphor for eternity. To Simon it was just an illusion.
After changing back into their suits, Simon, William, and the missionaries were almost to the car when Brother Forrester caught up to them. “A group of us were going through again if you wanted to come along,” he said. The endowment is first done for yourself, then every time after that as proxy for those who have died without receiving it.
The pitch was made to William, who turned to Simon and asked if he wanted to. Simon couldn’t believe his ears, but pretended to consider the offer before answering, “I’m so hungry, I really need to get something to eat.” While many members were content with skipping breakfast and calling that a fast, he was on his 25th hour without food or water. William was probably fasting too as he didn’t argue with that logic, but flashed a grateful smile for the offer. Back to the temple Brother Forrester went.
They got into the car and onto the interstate. It was silent except for the road rumbling beneath them until William asked, “Well where do you guys wanna eat?” After deciding on a Taco Bell off the next exit they parked and went in.
The missionaries, Elder Butler and Elder Alley, were almost identical in appearance - crew cuts, clean shaven, white and lanky. One might struggle to describe a difference between them. For Elder Butler it was his long nose. For Elder Alley his suave facial features suggested he could be the lead singer in a boy band. He was also friendlier, asking Simon as they stood waiting in line, “So are you nervous about leaving for your mission soon?”
That was the last thing Simon wanted to think about. Given the faith shaking experience he just went through he supposed he should be nervous, but for now he just felt numb in its aftermath. “No, not really” he said, forcing the corners of his mouth upward.
William was kind enough to foot the bill for all four of them. Sitting across from each other at two wobbly tables placed together, they waited for their orders. That moment was almost quieter than in the temple.
Simon expected one of them to say something, anything, about the endowment. Not apologize or reenact it. Not even crack a joke to ease the tension. Just acknowledge that it happened. Instead, nothing. Even though the others were veterans at this thing, the mood among them was like someone had died. Whether they knew it or not, they were right. Elijah was dead.
A woman behind the register called out their order number, and Elder Alley brought the tray to them. In between bites the missionaries asked William about his job and noted the changing weather. Eating tacos and making small talk. Masquerading as normal people in sheep’s clothing, but wearing garments underneath, reminding them not to violate the covenants they made or else judgment awaits.
Part of Simon wanted to forget about what happened and play along like it was no big deal. Then a still small voice seemed to whisper to him, “Remember, remember!” It felt like the words pierced his soul. After that he couldn’t forget.
Once the shock wore off the only thing Simon Stone felt was anger. He swore in his wrath that he would never go back to the temple. Little did he know he would go back - one year later - for vengeance.
Wow. It actually makes me want to read more :) Especially the exacting of vengeance one year later. Excellent. Keep writing.
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 05/12/2016 08:27PM by cinda.
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 05/12/2016 08:27PM by cinda.
I wish I'd read that 30 years ago.
I too wonder what then followed.
And what happened in that year.
I too wonder what then followed.
And what happened in that year.
readwrite Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> I wish I'd read that 30 years ago.
>
> I too wonder what then followed.
>
> And what happened in that year.
Has anyone else read the entire book?
-------------------------------------------------------
> I wish I'd read that 30 years ago.
>
> I too wonder what then followed.
>
> And what happened in that year.
Has anyone else read the entire book?
Excellent description! I'd add that family and friends greeting the newly initiated helped to soften the "what-the-fuck-did-I-just-do" experience of the pre-1990 endowment described so well above.
Exquisite. I wish I had felt that way instead of seeing the absurdity and accepting it anyway--good little brainwashed Mormon boy.
You have some real pearls* in there. I especially like:
"A list of questions came to mind. He tried sifting through them for an appropriate response, but they came at him too fast, like a mob of reporters shouting over one another to get the scoop..."
Three suggestions, which I intend in a constructive way:
1) It's overly hostile on listing the problems and complaints with the temple experience. Once you establish that it's been a big turn-off for Simon, mix in ambiguities and open-ended, problematic feelings. Instead of pointing out that the time could have been spent feeding orphans, give Simon a "sinking feeling" about not just the wasted time, but time spent watching overly concocted drama that paradoxically glorified Satan.
2) I'd go for a deadening, sinking feeling deep in the gut instead of incipient tears. Then link that to the disembowelment part of the ritual.
3) Consider toning down the end, "Little did he know he would go back - one year later - for vengeance," with something vague, foreboding, but not (yet) overtly ominous. You want the reader to know that evil is afoot, but not for sure. "He resolved to never enter a temple again. Only 19, he had no idea how drastically a mere year can change a young man, and a young man's plans."
I have an important Celestial Room scene in my novel. But my heroine is actually reinforced in her faith by the experience. I'd love to compare notes with you!
* "Pears" -- no relation to PoGP!
"A list of questions came to mind. He tried sifting through them for an appropriate response, but they came at him too fast, like a mob of reporters shouting over one another to get the scoop..."
Three suggestions, which I intend in a constructive way:
1) It's overly hostile on listing the problems and complaints with the temple experience. Once you establish that it's been a big turn-off for Simon, mix in ambiguities and open-ended, problematic feelings. Instead of pointing out that the time could have been spent feeding orphans, give Simon a "sinking feeling" about not just the wasted time, but time spent watching overly concocted drama that paradoxically glorified Satan.
2) I'd go for a deadening, sinking feeling deep in the gut instead of incipient tears. Then link that to the disembowelment part of the ritual.
3) Consider toning down the end, "Little did he know he would go back - one year later - for vengeance," with something vague, foreboding, but not (yet) overtly ominous. You want the reader to know that evil is afoot, but not for sure. "He resolved to never enter a temple again. Only 19, he had no idea how drastically a mere year can change a young man, and a young man's plans."
I have an important Celestial Room scene in my novel. But my heroine is actually reinforced in her faith by the experience. I'd love to compare notes with you!
* "Pears" -- no relation to PoGP!