Free Seductive Poison by Deborah Layton Page A

you can help make history. As a group, we can wipe out racism and immorality throughout America.” His voice was warm and compassionate. “Yes, many of you are too selfish to make a commitment to help those not as lucky as you. However, those of you who can and do make that commitment will profit in this life and in many more to come.”
    Could that be reincarnation?
    “Yes,” the minister seemed to answer me. “Those people who cannot commit to more than their own personal journey, those who do not give of themselves, will come back as lesser organisms. Yes,they will return again and again until they learn through centuries of lives that giving is greater than receiving.”
    I was dumbfounded. It was as if he had read my thoughts.
    “There are only a few who are enlightened enough to be able to communicate with me in this manner. I am speaking to you. You can grow exponentially if you stay within my aura. It is not an accident that you came today. You are here because there is something greater in store for you in this world. You are meant to be a part of this cause. You came here today because there is a greater power and he wants your help. I want you to help me make this a better world.”
    Could he be talking to me? I wasn’t special.
    “Oh yes, you are important. I need you. Stay here with me and you will become everything you can be. I want souls with fighting spirits, people who have been underestimated, underprivileged, misunderstood, and have not been given the chance to realize their potential. You are the one.” I lowered my eyes. My face felt flushed, the minister was looking at me. “You, darling, are what this ministry is all about.”
    How could he want me? He must not know how bad I’ve been.
    At the end of the sermon the audience rose, yelling out praises to the handsome, kindly, fatherly pastor, the Reverend Jim Jones. He seemed truly embarrassed and humbled by all the accolades.
    “Thank you, Father,” shouted the elderly gentleman behind me.
    “Thank you, Jim,” waved a blond teenager across the auditorium.
    “You’ve saved my life! Thank you, thank you, my savior!” called out an old woman with white hair.
    “You’re truly the only one who understands! Thank you, blessed Pastor Jim,” cried another.
    “You gave me another chance, you gave me hope to continue on this rocky road,” proclaimed the elderly black woman next to me.
    I was flustered by all the commotion around me. People were jumping up and down and clapping their hands to music. I wished Larry were there so that I could ask him all the questions on my mind. I was glad to get up and stretch my legs. We’d been sitting for three hours. I noticed the young black organist playing and singing dramatically. She looked about my age, seventeen. I watched as the young people began dancing around, happy, comfortable, not the least bit self-conscious. I took it all in, mesmerized by the energy inthe room. I watched in wonder as this family of all races, ages, colors, sizes, and shapes strolled from group to group, hugging one another, gabbing, laughing, and sharing stories. I felt insignificant and wished I, too, could join their great temple of humanity.
    While women were laying out food on buffet tables at the back of the church, little children ran about with towels and swimsuits, yelling to their parents to watch them dive into the pool. People were lining up with plates and utensils at the food-laden tables. I noticed a group of teenagers who had gathered around the pianist, singing a Marvin Gaye song. I realized how close the young black singer was to the reverend. She accompanied him the entire service. Sometimes she played loudly and people would sing along; at other times, according to his tone of voice, her playing was soft and ghostly.
    Then my attention was drawn toward the pulpit where a long line of people waited to speak with the Reverend. A sudden spurt of bravery made me get in line behind the old black grandmother