Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-36772767-20180831051828

''Hello all! I am new to the community and would appreciate any feedback I can get to make me a better writer. I will gladly return the favor and check out other people’s work. My piece is called, “The Missing Lamb and it’s inspired by cults and religious personalities. I am also a proud, recovering alcoholic who was saved by Jesus Christ. ''

PART I Christmas Eve

I sat among the sea of people in collective awe and silence to the message being delivered by our pastor. Every face wears a mask. They wish to hide disdain, anger, hatred and pain. Something had gone amiss though. One figure we all love is not with us. It’s been speculated that she has fallen ill or into grave misfortune. JoBeth is not the sort of person who randomly vanishes without being in contact with family, friends and church elders. She is after all, the accountant of our house of worship. Her work is vitally important to keeping the finances in order as well as morale among the humble congregation. There have been murmurs and whispering of mistrust though. The rumor mill is always hard at work before any factual evidence comes into play. Some say she has been embezzling money to fund a rather large gambling habit. Other wives got their feathers ruffled when their husbands paid a little more attention to Jo. She is a very attractive and young, single woman.



Christmas day brought more than presents to our small town this year. Instead of cheerful tinsel laced with glowing lights. Sirens fill the air and yellow tape carefully wrapped around an area of rural land. There is something dark up ahead. Some disturbing figure. Here lies JoBeth Williams. Her face is staring into an infinite state of nothing. Another striking feature of this heinous act is the removal of the victim’s hands. Due to lack of blood evidence, detectives were definitely not standing at the scene of a crime. For everyone else, it was a typical Saturday. Kids rode their new bikes or scooters up and down the main drag. Wives and mothers work away in the kitchen, fattening up their families for the upcoming winter season. Sunday, our pastor gave a very passionate sermon, one which implored our Great Savior to heal us in this time of grief. To forgive the sins of those who trespass against us. Little did we know that it would be one of our own?

Time moved on a bit, but then an interesting development happened. A well known, homeless man who camps in a van down by the river, came forward with a dirty old satchel and story about two people with the bag. He said they seemed to be arguing, tossed it and took off. Thinking it could be something good, the curious man went to recover his would be loot of the day, only to discover the gruesome truth inside. It was assumed and later discovered that these were indeed the hands of JoBeth Tiffany Williams.

''Dear diary, I messed up really bad. These could be the very last words I write to you. They are coming to get me. I know it. Who’s going to take care of my mom? We shouldn’t have done what we did! We shouldn’t have done what we did! Jo''
 * Diary entry, Halloween (before disappearance)

'''PART II The local kook and a bizarre confession'''

State detectives questioned and let the vagrant man who found JoBeth’s hands go. He was never any harm. A well liked fellow in the community. His happenstance discovery did raise questions about how many people could be involved in this. So far, Jo is connected to mysterious individuals who carelessly disposed of evidence. Were they arguing because they were in a hurry? None of it made any sense. When everything came to a standstill finally and there was nowhere to go in the case, a young man wandered into the county police station. He’s disheveled, slightly unwashed. This is a face no one recognizes. He ignored the desk clerk and made his way into the police chief’s office. “Can I help you?” the Chief asked him. He barely looked up from his work. “JoBeth Williams” said the young man. It became so quite in that building, you could’ve heard the sound of ghosts whispering in walls. “I removed her hands as atonement for sins against our Great Savior. She was a thief and a liar.” Before the chief of police could even get a word in, the suspect asked for an attorney and buckled up for possibly his last ride as a civilian through free society. 