The Horrors of Indoctrination

Chapter 1 : Prologue The small room was shrouded by darkness, with the moon throwing a glimmer on the window and the stars visible through the narrow slit between the curtain fabric. A bed in the corner carried a delicate figure, her breathing faint and fragile. Sheri, just eighteen years old, was once bursting with vigor, probably one of the happiest girls in Kiambutu village. But now she lay on this bed, and though her soul was still clinging to her withered vessel, she knew with dismayed certainty that her body was finally failing her. She felt heavy, as if a load was resting on her, and from dusk, she squirmed nervously, the ache in her leg acting as a cue of her inescapable mortality. Sheri’s eyes, once filled with optimism, were now sunken and darkened by her misery. She had faith in God’s ability to cure her and bring her through this struggle. But as the days grew into weeks, months, and then years, her hope faded like a flickering spark in a blow of wind. Death’s shadow loomed in the room, and as the night grew older, Sheri found herself struggling with a mix of emotions. Fear, anxiety, and regret surged inside her like a brewing storm. She reflected on her childhood in Heavenly Gates Church, and how the teachings there had molded her perspective from an early age. She remembered their enthusiasm for worship, and their faith in the power of prayer to heal all afflictions. In the living room next door, Sheri could hear the quiet sounds of people praying. The words were indistinct whispers, but she recognized the sounds. Her parents’ voices. The reassuring lilt of their native Kikuyu accent filled the small living room, joined by the murmurings of their small circle of friends from the Heavenly Gates Church. Since she fell ill, evening prayers were held in this house every other night. And for the longest time, the prayers were the most comforting thing in Sheri’s life as everything else seemed out of her reach. But this night, as she lay on her bed alone with her thoughts, she couldn’t help but doubt the legitimacy of the doctrine. The wound on her leg throbbed with terrible pain. And she constantly wondered: How could an omnipotent and merciful god allow an innocent believer to go through this agonizing demise? As the murmuring continued to intensify in the living room, Sheri was struggling to find solace in the familiar ritual unfolding just meters away. Instead, it filled her with a lot of disquiet. She reflected on the events that had led her to this point. The horror show was her right calf. Three years ago, a small cut from an old rusty machete didn’t seem bad at first. But it quickly became very infected and eventually, it began to putrefy. The cut turned into a deep, smelly wound with an exposed bone sticking out; it was more like rotting meat than living flesh. Her once smooth dark brown skin had become tight over lumpy areas of swollen tissue and bone, a jagged hole oozing with thick yellow pus that dripped down her thin calf, mixing with dried blood in a gross clumped mass. The entire wound throbbed nastily as if something inside was trying to get out of the rotting pit. With each breath Sheri took, new beads of creamy fluid bubbled out, releasing an overpowering rotting smell. When entering the room, one had to cover their mouth and nose to avoid vomiting. Around the hole, the skin had turned an angry deep black color, blotchy and wet with leaked fluids. The swollen area was edged with a sickly yellow that crept further up Sheri’s skinny thigh each day. Occasionally, wriggling white worms could be seen through the open flesh fat larvae eating at Sheri’s deteriorating muscle. As they burrowed deeper, they left shiny tunnels that leaked pus and b****y matter, staining the sheets with thick yellow, red, and brown streaks. The bed linens usually stuck to Sheri’s ruined leg in a hardened crust, ensuring every small body shift reopened the scabs and released fresh discharge. No matter how tightly they wrapped it with plants and herbs like the religious leaders instructed, the terrible wound just kept getting bigger and deeper. In the dark, smelly room, Sheri thought of her parents, Mama and Baba Maina, staunch believers who had raised her and her siblings according to the church’s teachings. She recalled the warmth of their love, the firmness of their convictions, and the sacrifices they had made for their faith. However, amidst these recollections, a lingering doubt crept into her mind. Sheri questioned whether she had been foolish to place so much faith in the church’s doctrine, in her father’s church. She pondered the choices she had made, and the consequences that had led her to this quiet moment of reflection. She was caught between doubt and faith, burdened with a persistent sense of betrayal, self-betrayal for clinging so desperately to her beliefs, betrayal of her sister Mumbi for planting seeds of doubt in her mind, and perhaps the greatest betrayal of all, her belief that God had abandoned her in this pitiful state. Still lost in thought, Sheri kept asking herself, “Was Mumbi right, after all?” Her internal questioning was interrupted by a sudden creaking noise that made her heart skip a beat. As she craned her neck, her eyes adjusted to the dim light, and she saw a shadowy figure slinking across the room. Though the moonlight barely illuminated the space, Sheri could see the darkness creeping in from the corners, slowly consuming the room like a thick cloud. Her heart raced with terror. The entity was here: an old, familiar presence that had tormented her in nightmares. This time, however, she couldn’t discern whether she was awake, in a trance, or trapped in a dream; the presence felt far too real. Sheri squeezed her eyes shut, silently pleading for it to leave her alone in her final moments. Her ears began to pick up faint whispers, like a thousand voices speaking from all directions. “Your faith is a lie.” The words rang cruelly through her mind, a hollow promise to trap her thoughts while her body rotted away. “No...” Sheri’s cracked lips barely formed the word, but even in her protest, the weight of the words felt undeniable. The whispers grew louder, more intense, becoming a deafening roar that rattled her senses. Sheri clamped her hands over her ears, but it did no good. The sound seemed to come from within her very bones, shaking her to her core. “You know it to be true,” the voice purred, “All those years spent suffocating under their rigid doctrine, their blind hatred of anything that doesn’t conform to their twisted dogma. Did you really think empty prayer could save you?” Despite her best efforts to block it out, the voice pushed deeper into Sheri’s soul. Her mind conjured horrifying visions of the shadowy entity that had haunted her for years as her condition worsened. “Please, no...” The words were little more than a whisper, a tremor running through her frail body. “I don’t have the strength to go through this again…”“There is nothing but the eternal dark.” The voice took on a mocking tone. “Do you finally accept what you truly are? A sacrifice, offered up to slake my insatiable hunger?” Fear gripped her heart as the evil presence drew nearer, eager to take control. Sheri opened her mouth to scream, but no sound emerged. “God is with me…” Sheri forced the words out, more to convince herself than to counter the mocking entity. For a moment, she felt a spark of warmth in her chest, a defiant reminder of her belief, her devotion to the teachings of the Heavenly Gates Church. But just as quickly, the memory of years of suffering snuffed it out. No prayers or faith had ever helped her. Defeat flooded her heart, and she became paralyzed with helplessness. Slowly, the invisible force took hold of her, washing her body like icy ocean waves. Her mind struggled against the invading consciousness, but it was futile. The last fragments of her will were drowned out as the dark entity’s power consumed her. Sheri coughed violently, her body wracked with tremors, as the cold mist entered her body through every opening—her mouth, her nose, every pore. From deep within her, Sheri felt a chilling, paralyzing fear seizing her spirit. The surrounding darkness sank through her nerves, leaving her arms and legs stiff and numb. Her eyes rolled back, and blood streaked down her pale cheeks. But just as she teetered on the edge of unconsciousness, the door creaked open. For some strange reason, Sheri could see herself standing at the entryway leading to the living room. Before she could utter a word, though, her consciousness slipped away, and her world went blank.