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will? I just couldn’t stand it. None of what I was seeing was
making any sense to me.
    I quietly and
unceremoniously left my pew and walked towards the doors,
completely ignoring the man who tried to wish me a good day and
hand me a pamphlet on my way out. I barely heard a word he said
over the volume of the music. It was all just too much for me. Too
much too soon. I didn’t care about being healed. I didn’t want
Jesus in me.
    Fuck it , I thought as I walked down
the steps and onto the courtyard outside. I want a fight with Satan. I want to take Satan
on !
     
     

Part II
     
     
    I walked onto
Nelson Street not bothering to rush. I had a bit of time to spare
figuring that had mum attended her church this morning she should
be arriving home soon anyway.
    Nelson Street
leads onto Bowmont Street. At the end of Bowmont Street there is an
empty section with overgrown grass ravishing it. I cut through and
followed the path that has been made by many others in their
infinite wisdom, yet for some stupid reason people still follow the
footpath right around. I don’t know why. If there is a shorter path
to where I want to go, I see no reason not to take it, unless the
view is better the long way, but in Invercargill that is few and
far between. For some reason this section appeals to me. Grass is
unkempt and the weeds reach up to my knees, yet the path is well
worn and the overgrowth is no struggle to get through. I also know
that by the time I reach the other side, there is only one road to
cross and Mum’s house is just around the corner.
    The path was
slightly muddy and dirt clung to the side of my shoes, but I
trudged on anyway letting the overgrowth slide away from my legs as
droplets of water fell from their place of rest and landed on the
soil beneath. Sunlight had been scarce over the last couple of
days, evaporation even more so. All those lingering droplets had no
chance of ascending into the heavens above, only to fall into the
soil below and be transformed from one simple state of hydrogen and
oxygen into something much more complicated that soaked and
mudified anything it came into contact with. Yet days would pass,
sunshine would eventually appear and heat would fool the earth into
giving up its moisture and return it to the skies above.
    As I got to
the edge of the section I looked sideways at the jungle of weeds I
was leaving behind: no one had paid any attention to them,
completely ignored them, not even bothering to tidy them up into
something more respectable. These weeds got to do whatever they
wanted; they got to follow their own will – the will to grow.
Nothing more, nothing less. While droplets of rain transformed into
vapour and mist and received their ascension without even
questioning it.
    I turned and
walked onto the footpath that runs alongside Elles Road. Traffic
was scarce so I crossed over onto Ettrick. As I rounded the corner
onto Ness Street I suddenly realised that I had been walking much
faster than previously, so I slowed down to catch my breath. I
passed mum’s car in the driveway, knocked once on the front door
and walked in.
    The hall is an
uneven assortment of pictures: Jesus being crucified on the cross
in all bloody detail on one side, on the other happy family photos.
I don’t remember the happiness.
    Mum was
sitting at the kitchen table looking out at the garden behind the
house, cigarette in one hand, smoke drifting into the stains on the
ceiling; a tumbler of whiskey sat on a coaster in front of her.
    “ Mum?”
    She turned around and smiled, but without much enthusiasm;
almost like she was thinking ‘ ahh, here is
my prodigal son, the one I couldn’t control, come to grace me with
his presence again. How nice of him! ’ At
least, that’s how I used to interpret it. Today there was a greater
sense of resignation than ever before. I wondered if today was the
day that she had decided to give up caring completely.
    “ How are ya?” I said taking a seat opposite her and