Not a Sin in Sight
The fire crackles... Were all safe here. A village of formerly evil scugnizzos was reformed into this zeal, holy realm.

Luckily it is the hour of sanctification, [when Abba touches the faces of the heathens] and we have nothing to worry about.

Im sitting on the davenport now, with my sister, Gabrielle, and my brother, Malachi. Our parents are here, too, and we are all under a quilt made by the Christian Guild.

Every hour the raven crows, the schyth shinks, and the heathens are cut from the cords of hell, and casted into the Divine Sanctuary, a place where they are purified through the Waters of Baptism.

Gartheniguum, our guardian, sends our family and the other families of the Grouping to the Temple of St. Maraha, where we adorn his shrine with gifts to satisfy the Souls that were disobeyed by the heathens. I donate a pretty gem handed down to me by my abuela, Malachi contributes 28 shillings that he had earned at the Cafe, and my little sister, Gabrielle, donates her papier mache doll.

We aren't declared heathens, and as a matter of fact, only 2 people are inaugurated as heathens in this term. We will now return home to our accommodation, not a sin in sight.

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