Chapter 1

A Cult. That’s what it was. They called it a community but, it wasn’t. A community is a place where everyone works together for the good of the whole. Where everyone is of free mind, opinions are respected and differences are solved by coming together and reaching a compromise. Not dictated by the Holy few…the appointed Elders…and most certainly not controlled by fear. From the outside it probably looked impressive but, yeah, I was raised in a cult. Literally born into it, and remained until 12.

My memories are scattered and few….strewn together in a time warped collage of confusion and struggle. Sure there are moments of light but they tend to be fleeting. If I concentrate really hard and swim through the chaos, I can find a smile. Like remembering that one of my most favorite things to do was to wear my older siblings, my parents, or anybody who was older, shoes. I wonder if I thought it made me someone else while in them.

Some background into the grounds. I lived in the middle of nowhere. Literally. No outside communication. No electricity. A self-contained farm where we raised our own meat, grew our own vegetables and most definitely followed the leader. A group of up to 150 people, depending on who had been cast out or were fortunate enough to have a moment of clarity and forge their own way. Mindlessly we followed the rulings dictated to us by the hierarchy. My father being the highest of all.

I will say, in retrospect, the mechanics of the day-to-day life there were pretty impressive. Completely self-sufficient except for paper products and a few cooking needs….which were collected during a weekly “town trip” where a select few would cross the river and make the 100 mile trek to the nearest civilization. We made everything. Flour. Butter. Cheese. Butchered or hunted our meat and grew all vegetables. 500 acres of natures best.

As far back as I can remember, my most long-serving duty was to tend to the herd of goats. One of my older sisters being the main goat keeper. I would arise before dawn for the morning milking and, weather/season permitting release them from the confines of the barn into the neighboring pasture. After collecting the milk, it was hauled back to the Tabernacle where it would be separated from the cream by way of an old crank separator. Then, at 4pm every afternoon it was time to return, collect the goats and harvest the evening milking. That was my steady duty. Everything else changed daily. Depending on whatever duties were delegated. There was a schedule put up that every morning after our communal breakfast….because every meal had to be eaten together in the aforementioned Tabernacle so as not to break the bond….the members would check to see what they were expected to do. Gardening. Field work. Building. Harvesting. Animal care. Kitchen duty. Whatever it may be. I always begged to stay in the kitchen with my mother. I felt safe there. Away from the men.