All That Lives by Melissa Sanders-Self

turned to look at us even before the Reverend told the story, but I could not be sure. I did see Thenny twisting in a
     pew to my right and I thought she flapped her arms behind her father’s back for my attention, but I returned my eyes to my
     hands in my lap. I was extremely conscious of my tender skin and my arms ached where Joel and Richard pressed against my bruises.
     I listened to the Reverend read aloud.
    “See that none render evil unto any man, but ever follow that which is good, both amongst yourselves and all men. Pray without
     ceasing, quench not the Spirit. In everything give thanks, for this be the will of God. Faithful is He that calleth you, who
     also will do it. Amen.”
    “Amen,” answered the assembled.
    “Now, were I to ask among you, name the man most formidable, steadfast and upright in following God’s law, what name would
     you give? I believe the name John Bell would slip from many tongues.”
    Another breeze of whispers circulated through the church and Father shifted, uncomfortable, his movement shaking our entire
     pew. The congregation quieted, as any announcement in church regarding members of the community was almost always to do with
     an illness, a birth or death, so everyone’s attention focused on what they did not know about our family.
    “Our Brother John Bell has experienced strange and unearthly occurrences at his good home.” The Reverend paused and in his
     silence I heard someone behind me whisper.
    “ ’Tis true then, what the cook did say.” I realized many in the church must have suspected some disturbance was occurring,
     for they must have heard the gossip of the slaves.
    “I have stayed the past two nights along with John Bell and his fine family and witnessed for myself many horrific noises
     and some violent abuse of fair Betsy Bell. I ask all gathered here today, turn your prayers to the house of the Bell family,
     and apprise John Bell or myself with any knowledge you might possess to aid and remedy this dreadful circumstance.”
    “Ho, Reverend!” Kate Batts rose from her pew in the back, requesting attention.
    “Yea, Mrs. Batts, speak freely.”
    “Ask John Bell to speak of what torments him!” Kate yelled her request as if we were across the bridge and needed to hear
     her many yards away. A chorus of other voices joined hers, shouting.
    “Aye, speak! Speak to it, Jack.” Nearly the whole of Adams was gathered in the church and most of Father’s peers. I saw Mr.
     Thorn and Mr. Porter looking very much concerned. Everyone waited for Father’s response, even the good Reverend at the pulpit.
     The murmurs quieted, while Father stiffly rose, clearing his throat.
    “I know not what torments me.”
    “Might you know what form its actions take?” Old Kate had remained standing at the back, appearing very interested in the
     matter.
    “I am no good at speaking,” Father shrugged his shoulders, “especially on subjects I am not well versed in. The Reverend can
     relate the aspects of our suffering.” Father sat down and looked at his hands. I knew he would say no more. The sunlight outdoors
     had reached the high window over the pulpit and it spread out in rays to the floor. I watched it reach the Reverend Johnston’s
     back, producing a striking effect, as if God was sending his light down to us through the Reverend’s arms.
    “To speak and describe evil is not our business here. I shall say only never in my long experience have I witnessed such events
     as these, and blessed congregation of Adams, the Lord compels us to make our sole occupation as a community to rid John Bell’s
     family of this visitation, whatever it may be! All who are well intentioned and strive to walk the right true path of the
     Lord shall gather at the Bell residence this very evening at six o’clock to this effect.”
    A rush of questions issued from the mouths of all present and the noise of everyone talking at once gave me a dizzy feeling.
     Mother and Father