Another Sunday, another day spent doing what I hated most. The day started with me stuck in the same heart-breaking and dispiriting routine. Like any other Sunday, I woke up drowning in the same old monotony, wanting to go to church, but behind my big smile, a depressed and hurting beast lurked, waiting to pounce. As I recalled the cold conversations and hangouts with my friends at church, the priest's words sounded fake, his teachings full of hidden agendas. To be honest, the entire church thing disgusted me. I hated it.
Wolfa's gentle knock on my door shifted the whole mood. "Boity baby, come help with the cooking. We shouldn't be late for church," she said. I could already smell the freshly baked paw bread wafting from downstairs. The warm sunlight streaming through the window highlighted the dust motes dancing in the air. I really liked helping Wolfa out, especially with the cooking.
Like always, I put on a big smile and headed down to cook breakfast with my mom. The sizzle of eggs and bacon on the stovetop, the clatter of plates, and the chatter of my fur-sibs filled the air, but my heart wasn't really in it that day. I was thinking about all the vague teachings at church. The words echoed in my head: "Those who don't come to the pack temple anymore have fallen away from the Moonfather's presence, and if they die still out of the church they are unlikely to enter the pack paradise." As if going to church was a guaranteed entry to heaven. Was I staying just because I was scared of not making it to the wolfhaven?
The thought made my chest feel heavy. But I tried to push those thoughts away by joking around with my family. We laughed and talked about silly things, like our favourite foods and TV shows, and for a while, I forgot about my doubts.
My mom asked me about my friends at church, and I told her about the funny things they did. I told her about how they made me laugh, and how they were always there for me. But deep down, I was only telling her what she wanted to hear. The truth was, my friends at church were not as great as I made them out to be. Telang and Limpho were actually pretty mean, always gossiping and starting drama. But I didn't want to worry my mom, so I kept that to myself.
To shift the mood and topic, my other little fur sib started making funny faces at the table. He crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue, making us all laugh. Soon we were all giggling and having a good time. It was a small break from the thoughts swirling in my head, a chance for me to relax and just enjoy my family's company.
As we walked into the church, the scent of old books and wood polish hit me, and I felt a familiar sense of unease. The stained glass windows cast colourful patterns on the floor, and the sound of the organ echoed through the hall. Before I knew it, my fur-family was settled in the church, listening attentively to the sermon. They were all smiles and attentive, not missing a beat. But I was lost in my thoughts, stuck in my head.
I went through the motions – clapping, standing up, laughing – because everyone around me was doing it. But I wasn't really there. My mind was miles away, wrestling with doubts. Deep down, I wanted to walk away from it all. I wanted to step out of that church and never look back. But the thought of my family's reaction kept me stuck. They'd be hurt, disappointed, confused.
As the service started wrapping up, I stood too, my beast pounding in my chest. Somehow, someway, this had to change. I didn't know how yet.
A few minutes after the church service was dismissed, I met up with Telang and Limpho. We were a pack of three, inseparable friends, or so it seemed. We headed down the streets to our usual spot, a pack pit stop where we could grab some fast food and hang out. The familiar smell of fried den delis and the sound of laughter filled the air as we slid into our favourite booth.
Telang and Limpho were already diving into their usual trash talk, joking about everyone and everything. I laughed along, playing my part in the trio. But my heart wasn't really in it. I only hung out with them because I didn't want people to think that I was isolating myself from other people, but deep down, I really didn't like hanging out with my friends.
Then Limpho dropped a bombshell. "We're joining Lumarri wolves, right girls?" she asked, a sly grin spreading across her face. Telang's eyes lit up like a firecracker. "The Lumarri wolves?" I echoed, my voice a bit too high. "I'd heard a dark rumor about them – they're trouble with a capital T."
"Yeah, but they're the classiest group," Telang said, her voice full of awe. "You get to be an usher, be close to the priest, drive fancy cars… and get this – you could even get mated with one of the top stars or rich wolves in the country." She wackily raised her eyebrows. "Damn, imagine being that girl, respected by everyone in the church and community."
I felt a weird knot in my stomach. Something about this didn't sit right. "But… what do they want in return?" I asked, trying to sound casual. Limpho shrugged. "Dunno, but it's gotta be worth it, right? I mean, who wouldn't want all that?"
I didn't say anything, but my mind was racing. What kind of strings came with being a Lumarri wolf? Was it worth losing yourself in the process? The pack pit stop's noise faded into the background as I zoned out, weighing the pros and cons. Telang and Limpho kept chatting, hyping each other up about the possibilities.
As we were about to leave, Limpho turned to me. "What about you, Boitseko? Are you gonna join us next week when we present ourselves to the Lumarri pack in church?" I hesitated, not wanting to rain on their parade. "No, my friends," I said softly. "I don't promise, but I wish you two a happy and blessed journey."
Telang snorted. "Poor girl, there's never a day you're going to stop being a fool, right?" Limpho chimed in, "Yeah, she's so stupid, she can't even see the opportunity that could change her life." Telang added, "Fine, sit out your decision, but don't expect us to keep being friends with fools like you. Find new friends."
I smiled awkwardly, trying to brush it off, but the words stung. We parted ways, and soon we were back at church with our families, ready to head back home.
As I slid into our usual pew, I watched my family soak in the post-service high. Wolfa and Papa were chatting with the priest, beaming with pride. My little brother and sister were giggling and playing footsie under the pew, having a blast. Everyone seemed so… content. Like they were exactly where they were meant to be.
I smiled, trying to fit in, but my mind was stuck on the Lumarri wolves, and if this was the force taking control of the church, the pastor too was without doubt part of it. I stood looking at my poor parents who were clearly unaware of the monster they were so joyously talking to.
Yes, this was the church of wolves, and we were all part of it, no question. But the church wasn't like this before. Like our spirits were no longer connecting in the church, when others pulled to the south I pulled to the north.
As we drove home, I took a deep breath. The chatter in the car picked up, and everyone started gathering their stuff. I joined in, mechanically, still lost in my thoughts. What was the right choice? Only time would tell.
The familiar routine of our Sunday afternoon unfolded before me like a well-worn path. Mom started bustling around the kitchen, putting away the leftovers from breakfast and starting on lunch. The clatter of pots and pans, the hum of the refrigerator, and the murmur of my siblings' chatter created a comforting background noise. But I felt disconnected, like I was observing it all from a distance.
I wandered over to the window, staring out at the yard. The Lumarri wolves, Telang and Limpho, the church – everything swirled together in my head like a whirlpool, pulling me in. What was I supposed to do?
Mom called out, "Boitseko, can you help me with the salad?" I nodded, even though she couldn't see me, and headed to the kitchen. The crunch of lettuce, the snap of cherry tomatoes, and the tang of vinaigrette dressing filled my senses as I started chopping veggies. For a moment, the simple task was enough to distract me.
But as we sat down to eat, I zoned back to my fantasies. The taste of Mom's cooking, usually so comforting, now felt bland and unremarkable. Dad asked about my day, and I forced a smile, trying to sound casual. "It was good, just a normal Sunday." The words felt hollow, even to me.
Mom and Dad exchanged a look, and I knew they didn't believe me. But they didn't press the issue. The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. I did my chores, watched TV with my siblings, and tried to lose myself in the mindless entertainment. But the questions lingered, nagging at me like an itch I couldn't scratch.
As the sun started to set, casting a golden glow over the room, I slipped out into the backyard. The air was cool and quiet, with just a hint of the night's chill. I sat down on the swing, feeling the gentle creak of the chains as I rocked back and forth.
I closed my eyes, letting the peace of the evening wash over me. "Why do I hate the church so much?" I thought. "Maybe, just maybe, the answer would come in time," I said.
The sound of the crickets and the rustle of leaves in the trees were the only sounds that broke the silence. I sat there, lost in thought, waiting for something – anything – to give me a clue about what to do next.
As I sat there, the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, and the moon cast its silvery glow over the yard. Suddenly, I heard a rustling in the bushes behind me. I turned to see my mother, her eyes wide with questions. "Boitseko, what are you doing out here?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
I smiled and said, "Just thinking, Mama." I ruffled her fur. She climbed up onto the swing beside me, and we sat there in silence for a moment, watching the stars.
Then she spoke up again. "Boitseko, can I ask you something?" "Of course, Mama," I replied. "Why do you always look so sad when we're at church? You're always smiling, but your eyes look sad."
I wasn't taken aback by her question. I had realized that she had noticed, but was waiting for the perfect time to confront me. I took a deep breath and started to explain.
"You know Mama, sometimes we do things because our family or friends want us to, even if we don't really want to do them ourselves?" I asked her. She nodded, her eyes wide with understanding.
"Well, that's how I feel about church sometimes. I know that you want us to go, and I know that it's supposed to be a good thing, but sometimes I just don't feel like it's for me, you know?"
Mama looked at me thoughtfully, then nodded again. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Like when we have to eat veggies, but don't want to?"
I couldn't help but laugh. "Exactly like that! And just like how you might not like veggies, but you eat them because they're good for you, sometimes I go to church because it's what's expected of me, even if it's not really what I want to do."
She nodded again, then looked up at me with a curious expression. "So, what do you want to do, baby?" I smiled at her, feeling a sense of relief wash over me.
"I'm not really sure yet, Mama," I said. "But I'm trying to figure it out. And in the meantime, I would like to take a break from church attendance."
Mama nodded, then leaned over and gave me a hug. "I love you, Boitseko. And I'll support you no matter what you decide to do."
I hugged her back, feeling a sense of gratitude towards her. It was nice to know that I had at least one person in my corner, no matter what.
We sat there in silence for a moment, watching the stars twinkle above us. The night air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and the sound of crickets provided a soothing background noise. I felt a sense of peace wash over me, and I knew that no matter what I decided, I would be okay.