Worthy – Spencer B | Vignette/Flash Fiction For AP Literature

I was chosen at birth, always one of the best. The Lamb God, Shub-Niggurath has always revered me, I know it. Since my birth me and my parents would always go to the church for her blessing. 

The citadel loomed over the bright city below. It was dark, The sanctuary was only lit by torches, enough to barely illuminate the pews and the carpet. The carpet was a soothing welcoming red. One could compare it to the color of dried blood. The stage had a singular chair. The torches' warm glow reached just far enough to engulf the chair in their orange glow. The pews were among some of my favorite things to look at in the citadel, they were dark, sleek, and wooden. They must have been oak, but from where? No one knows where gray oak grows. The pews also had splendid embedded stained glass. The color was hard to make out in the torch light but I always saw the same elegant red that paints the floor. However, because this was glass, it always appeared glossy, looking just like real blood. I could almost feel its warmth, watching what felt like blood swirl and twirl within the page. Although I knew it was just glass, I swear I could see it drip from time to time. 

Church was my favorite place to be. The All Mother was infatuated with me. We would go for our bidiurnal blessing and nearly every time I was anointed as the ritual candidate. My parents say I was selected a few times as an infant. But the first time I remember doing the ritual was when I was four, it was pure ecstasy, I had never felt closer to Magna Mater than in that moment! I remember after it was complete I was in a lot of pain.

I asked the father if Magna Mater hated me, to which he replied “No my daughter of the lamb,” 

He spoke with a gentle and kind voice, one that could only be the voice of a saint. “It only hurts because this is your first ritual.” 

He paused for a moment before continuing “The All Mother is now joined with you, she will live on in you and you will live on for her.”

The pastor always knew how to make me feel better. Even when I wasn’t feeling bad he would still always comfort me, he would come to me specifically after sermons explaining how much Magna Mater loved me, telling me things like how I was definitely the favorite out of all of The All Mothers constituents. He would always stand close enough for me to feel his body heat, I could always smell his breath, when he would whisper in those moments I could always feel each word reverberate in my bones. He never failed to comfort me. Whether it was through his soothing voice, cordial words, or his wonderful sermons, all of it made me feel better about myself, I always felt at home. His sermons made me feel snug and loved, every word he spoke pulsed through my veins and immediately mesmerized me. 

His words would reach my ears. "Children of the lamb,” his voice easily spread through the sanctuary and back, 

“We gather again with the gaze of The All Mother, who sees not what we see, but what we are meant to become and produce.” he pauses letting his voice ring out.

“The Lamb God doesn’t make mistakes, you were all chosen for a purpose” directing his attention to the ceiling as a sign of reverence he continues:

“The people outside, ignorant of The Lamb, try to teach the myth of ownership” he says through gritted teeth while slowly lifting his head and glaring back at the congregation, but he wasn't glaring at us. The glare was for those on the outside.

“They know not of the teaching of The Lamb” he says sharply, “Your body is not your own, your will is not yours, and your future is not yours to decide.” 

“We submit ourselves fully to Shub-Niggurath, consenting to her plan for us, providing for her with as much as we can.”

His eyes are now fierce and fiery. “Do not spite those who are chosen for the ritual,” his face relaxes and he says softly, “The All Mother loves you all.”

He pauses for a moment “do not fear just because you are not selected, she will only choose those who are ready”

His sermon concluded, and shortly after, the ritual’s process started. He began by speaking in a language foreign to us. Me and some other people in the congregation have started to get visions when he speaks in the old tongue- I think it is the result of the assimilation of our bodies with Magna Mater. The closer we are to her, the more we understand. After praying and speaking in the foreign language, the pastor raises his hand high and points at the ceiling awaiting direction from the mother, then her presence guides his finger to members of the congregation. Once his finger finally stops to point at someone, his finger will either curl up to signify that is all who is selected, or will continue to move until she chooses as many people as she wants. This time his finger started in my direction, it slowly moved as if undecided as to what it wanted but it stopped abruptly when it pointed it at me. This was my fourth time being picked in my last five visits. 

The pastor and I went to the back of the shadowed stage where a room with nothing but a desk, candle, and a bed resided. This is where the pastor sleeps and works, this is also where the ritual is performed, in private, The Lamb God’s grace is not for all to see, just for those selected. The ritual used to hurt, but now that The Lamb God has grown quite fond of me, it feels good. She loves me greatly and I am getting closer and closer to meeting her myself, the same way the pastor does. He would tell me after the rituals that I was closer to meeting The All Mother than anyone else besides himself, and that I’m only a few rituals away from meeting her. Though he couldn’t tell me how many, he told me The All Mother decides that he only knows that I’m close. 

It wasn’t many sermons and rituals later that the pastor was arrested. The police took him in the middle of a ritual with some of the youngest of the congregation. They are the most important for the ritual to effect, they need the imprint of The Lamb God to grow properly. The police then took everyone in the congregation away, trying to teach us the outside world propaganda, the very stuff the pastor warned us of. 

They were at it for weeks, eventually getting through to some people and they started losing faith in our Mother. Even my own parents lost faith, and at that point they decided to take me out of the anti Shub-Niggurath program. They then moved me to an educational institution; the school was bland, white walls, tan tile floors, and white lab coats (for the professors). The only color throughout the building is the blue gloves the teachers would sometimes wear when teaching me. My room is even worse than the rest of the building, the walls and the floor are white and padded and my bed is closer to an eggshell white but still just white. I’ve noticed over my time at this institution that the teachers have been slowly changing. I don’t know if they know, but they have been growing extra limbs and their existing limbs have been morphing. For example, the teacher that normally administers my exams (which I always pass), his head has started to grow horns and his feet are turning into hooves. It's very hard to tell through his pants but it's almost like his knees have started to invert themselves, I really do hope they get help. 

That’s what brings me here, the teachers gave me a writing assignment, they wanted me to write about my life so they can examine it! I am so very proud of my work so far. The teachers said it will be good for me if I keep writing, they said it's a way to stay smart.

I haven't touched this paper in a few days. I simply haven't known what to write about. But I think I’m going to start documenting the anomalies that I keep discovering. Today I found a weird red and blue rectangle with the letters “N” and “S” on each end respectively. I believe this to be a creation of the god, for when I swipe the “N” end on my door knob it unlocks! And if I use the “S” end it relocks it, but by far the most mystical part of the whole contraption is it’s telekinesis powers, when I hold it next to this sharp blade I found on the ground of my room it gets stuck to the rectangle, the rectangle pulls it!! I believe that Shub-Niggurath has finally found me, presenting me with this legendary rectangle as a sign that she is with me. 

The doctors have been growing increasingly strange, my main instructor doesn't wear pants anymore, instead he flaunts his hairy goat legs. His assistant teachers have melded into what I can only describe as a flesh monster with skin that must be filled with molasses. Their skin droops low and folds in on itself. Their face is nothing but three gaping holes, two for the eyes and one for the mouth. I do wonder if the nose is lost under the slumped eye bags that fall to where you would think a mouth should start or if it's just gone. 

I’ve come to realize that these grotesque manifestations are signs from The All Mother, like the metaphysical rectangle, these are signs that she is with me, every face I see at night, and every pain I feel inside. They are all the physical emanations of Magna Mater, she wants me to be with her. I know it. I hope she will take me. I hope I will be worthy soon.

I am at a loss for words, the so-called "teachers" have placed some new students in my room with me, but they didn't give any of them a bed! And if that isn't bad enough they don’t even talk to them. I really do try to get them to though, I always mention them and ask why they are being neglected, and the teachers just look at them and sigh.

Recently I have been letting them sleep in my bed, and I make sure to test them on the same things the teachers test me on. I wish I could describe them to you but lately it's been harder to write, and it feels like the other students keep changing. However, I’m sure I’m just tired. 

The teachers have been growing faster, they are using their claws on me nearly every day. Some have started to grow fangs. They change so often now I don’t have time to record it. I keep waking up with scars and pains all over my body, I know it's them I just know it.

My friends have started to disappear, I think they are taking them while I’m sleeping. They are taking them and eating them. That must be it, they are truly evil, they are definitely not teachers.

THe walLs have started too talk. They tell me thingsn, letly they know the wall ins the world.

I felt too sick to write those past two days. They took something from me, and it weakened me. I know they took something because they said they did tests but they did not talk to me so they must have taken something. 

I have no friends left, they ate them all. I only have the souls that have been trapped in these walls left to stare at. I think the teachers did something to them because they don't talk anymore.

I'M NEXT. I KNOW IT> THE TECHAERS WANT TO GET ME NEXT. IVE CAUGHT THEM BEFORE, THEY WALK AWAY FROM ME NN MY SLEEP WITH SHARP TOOLS.

I hear a voice in my head now, it tells me not to worry, it tells me to stay strong. I don’t do much anymore but I do wait for the voice. It speaks

“You have proven yourself, it is time you join me” I don’t recognize it from anywhere, if fact I don’t believe it could be human, it was much too deep and much too high at the same time. When she speaks I hear a symphony not an instrument.

The voice never says who it is but I know it is Mother, she has come for me, to let me join her mass of beautiful off spring. I am finally worthy.

“The teachers are not who they say they are,” she said to me today with a hiss.

“They will keep poking and prodding you until you end up like the others.” She spoke with conviction.

“You know what you need to do. Do it, then join me.” Mother’s last word sizzling away like cold water on a hot pan.

She was right, I knew what to do. I grabbed the metal blade and the rectangle. I closed the door and locked it, the teachers knew what I was going to do, and they were jealous. They saw the tools, they knew. They came running to the door but I had locked it with the rectangle, they started howling and scratching at the door, as much as they wanted to stop me they couldn’t. 

I am now carving my heart out to prepare myself for Shub-Niggurath. I know she is watching because I feel no pain. 

I have now ripped the necessary ribs from my chest, my hand is clasped firmly around my heart, badum, badum. I can feel her warmth, I can feel her talk. And just as I’m about to rip my heart from my cavity I start to speak, but not English, the old tongue, the one my dear pastor used to speak. I had no clue of the words I was saying, but I was speaking and I could tell she was listening. I gripped my heart a little tighter and began to pull, rip, rip, rip, blood begins to flow like a garden hose. I begin my final motion, and I am finally ready to meet Shub-Niggurath. The heart leaves my chest and I loo